Текст книги "The Wall of Winnipeg and Me"

Автор книги: Mariana Zapata

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

How messed up was that? I couldn’t even bother feeling that guilty about it, especially not when we’d gone to a good family with strict but caring adults. Not like what I’d had before. “I don’t like being scared. I wish I wasn’t, and I’ve tried not to be,” I blabbered on mindlessly, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

He reared back, and I could tell he was looking at me with an uncertain expression. “It was only a question. Everyone is scared of something.”

“Even you?” I made myself meet his eyes, easily batting away the defensiveness I’d felt a moment ago and clinging onto the subject change.

“Everyone but me,” came his smooth, effortless response.

That had me groaning. The bright beam of light between us was throwing shadows over parts of his face. “No. You said it. Everyone’s been scared of something. What about when you were a little kid?”

The silence went thoughtful just as thunder made the windows rattle. I subconsciously touched him right between the pecs with my fingertips.

“Clowns.”

Clowns? “Really?” I tried to imagine a tiny Aiden crying over men and women with overly painted faces and red noses, but I couldn’t.

The big guy was still facing me. His expression clear and even, as he dipped his chin. “Eh.”

God help me, he’d gone Canadian on me. I had to will my face not to react at the fact he’d gone with the one word he usually used only when he was super relaxed around other people. “I thought they were going to eat me.”

Now imagining that had me cracking a little smile. I slid my palm under my cheek. “How old were you? Nineteen?”

Those big chocolate-colored eyes blinked, slow, slow, slow. His dark pink lips parted just slightly. “Are you making fun of me?” he drawled.

“Yes.” The fractures of my grin cracked into bigger pieces.

“Because I was scared of clowns?” It was like he couldn’t understand why that was amusing.

But it was. “I just can’t imagine you scared of anything, much less clowns. Come on. Even I’ve never been scared of clowns.”

“I was four.”

I couldn’t help but snicker. “Four… fourteen, same difference.”

Based on the mule-ish expression on his face, he wasn’t amused. “This is the last time that I come over to save you from the boogeyman.”

Shocked out of my mind for a split second, I tried to pretend like I wasn’t, but… I was. He was joking with me. Aiden was in bed joking around. With me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I was just messing with you.” I scooted one more millimeter closer to him, drawing my knees up so that they hit his thighs. “Please don’t leave yet.”

“I won’t,” he said, settling on his pillow with his hands under his cheek, his eyes already drifting to a close.

I didn’t need to ask him to promise not to leave me; I knew he wouldn’t if he said so. That was just the kind of man he was.

“Aiden?” I whispered.

“Hmm?” he murmured.

“Thank you for coming in here with me.”

“Uh-huh.” That big body adjusted itself just slightly before he let out a long, deep exhale.

Without turning around, I laid the flashlight down behind me and aimed the beam toward the wall. He didn’t ask if I was really going to leave the flashlight on all night—or at least however long the battery lasted—instead, I just smiled at him as I took my glasses off and set them on the unused nightstand behind me. Then I tucked my hands under my cheek and watched him.

“Good night. Thank you again for staying with me.”

Peeking one eye open, just a narrow slit, he hummed. “Shh.”

That ‘shh’ was about as close to a ‘you’re welcome’ as I was going to get.

I closed my eyes with a little grin on my face.

Maybe five seconds later, Aiden’s spoke up. “Vanessa?”

“Hmm?”

“Why was I saved on your work phone as Miranda P.?”

That had my eyes snapping open. I hadn’t deleted that entry off the contacts when I quit, had I? “It’s a long, boring story, and you should go to sleep. Okay?”

The “uh-huh” out of him sounded as disbelieving as it should have. He knew I was full of shit, but somehow, knowing he knew, wasn’t enough to keep me from falling asleep soon after.

And when I woke up when it was still dark outside, rain pattering the windows, it took me a moment to realize where I was: on my bed, and I was doing my best to imitate a blanket.

Aiden’s personal human blanket.

One of my legs was thrown over his thigh, a forearm was flopped across his bellybutton, and the top of my head was literally nestled onto his bicep. My freaking mouth was an inch from his nipple.

What in the hell was I doing?

Moving my head slightly back, I found Aiden on his back with his palm acting as his pillow—where his pillow was, I had no idea—and his other arm, the one who’s biceps I was using as a pillow, was wrapped around my neck.

Pulling my leg and arm back so that I wasn’t acting like a massive octopus, I slowly rolled over, keeping my head where it was. I tried to imagine what Aiden would have thought if he’d woken up and found me in that position, and I didn’t want to know.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“I woke up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water,” Zac said over a bowl of oatmeal and bananas.

I took my glasses off and let out a big yawn. Aiden had accidentally woken me up that morning at six when he’d rolled out of bed. My bed. The one he’d slept in with me all night. Well, for six hours. I’d tried going back to sleep, but I hadn’t been able to. Instead, I’d laid in bed and watched television until I figured I was awake enough to get some work done before eating breakfast.

“And your door was wide open,” he continued.

I slammed my mouth closed.

“Noticed you weren’t alone, darlin’.” The idiot didn’t even bother hiding the shit-eating grin on his face. He was enjoying this way too much.

Now I could have handled the situation in a few different ways. I could have played dumb. I could have freaked out. Or I could have made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. When you’re dealing with one of the nosiest men in the world, option three was really the only choice. Tapping the fork tines against the plate, I leveled an even look at the dark blond across from me. “The lights went out last night during the storm.”

“Uh-huh.”

He was eating this up. “He knows I’m scared of the dark,” I continued.

“Scared of the dark.” Those tawny eyelashes fluttered. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s all that happened. Stop looking at me like that.”

Zac chuckled before spooning oatmeal into his mouth. “Whatever you want, Mrs. Graves.”

That had me groaning. “It wasn’t even like that.”

“I’m not arguin’ with ya, darlin’.” He said that, but I wasn’t remotely convinced he was going to let it go.

“It really wasn’t like that at all,” I added anyway. “He’s just… trying to be my friend.”

A friend who climbed into bed with you? I wondered to myself. Maybe next time he would just get me a lantern for emergencies.

I could easily believe he’d woken up from the lightning and the crazy thunder and the crazier wind. But what had made him think about coming to my room once the lights had gone out? Because he’d seen how it was for me, right? Because he cared at least a little, and that’s what friends did. Or maybe it was because if I had a heart attack in bed, everyone would see that this thing between us wasn’t real, and he wanted to protect his reputation.

I didn’t have the energy or the will to think about it too much.

Zac raised an eyebrow before digging back into his food once more. “You’re more than likely the first person he’s ever tried to be friends with, Van.”

I eyed him, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. I just shrugged and went back to eating my food. After all, what would be my argument? “You’re his friend.”

“Not so much, sugar.”

I couldn’t totally disagree with him; all the components I thought made up friendship were seriously missing between Aiden and Zac. They didn’t do anything together. As far as I saw, they never really talked to each other, especially since Zac had gotten kicked off the team. That bond between them had become even thinner. They were just, well, roommates.

Then again, this was Aiden. Did we expect him to give hugs and write love letters? “You know, that day we went out and you got hammered? He came downstairs and helped me get you on the couch. He was worried about you. That says something, I think.”

It was obvious he brushed off my words, and I didn’t push. I didn’t get male friendships and I probably never would. “Are you spending Thanksgiving with Diana?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No.” I’d texted her a couple days ago and her response had been: TOO SOON TRAITOR. I’d give her another week to chill out unless she contacted me first. It wasn’t a big deal. After all, it was just Thanksgiving. How many years had I settled for macaroni and cheese in a box for it? “My little brother has a game on Friday. I’m just going to stay here. What about you?

Zac scrunched up his nose. “I gotta head home. I wouldn’t hold it passed my ma to come get me and drag me back by the ear if I don’t.” He chuffed. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

I snickered, thinking of Mrs. James and agreeing with him. She was intimidating and outrageous, and a southern belle down to the tips of her French manicured nails. I’d met her on several occasions when she’d come up to Dallas for games. “I could see her doing that.”

“She would. I think she thinks she’s been givin’ me enough slack since I got released. ‘My baby needs to come home and let his mama help him get sorted out,’ her last voicemail said.” He shot me a look. “You wanna come with me?”

For a moment, I contemplated tagging along but shook my head. “I should probably just stay here. Thank you though.”

He shrugged, only looking slightly disappointed. “If you change your mind, you know you’re welcome.”

“I do. Thanks, Zac. I’d tell you to stay, but honestly, I’m a little scared of your mom. I’d probably drive you myself if I had to.”

“Chicken.”

I grinned. “You’re the one who doesn’t want to go home. Just make sure you keep up with running. I don’t need you slacking off. Your smoker’s lung is bad enough and we’re on a tight schedule.”

He moaned but grudgingly nodded. “I will,” he assured me with a smile that came and went as quickly as it had appeared. “Before I forget again—what the hell is up with you and Christian?”

The grin I had on my face disappeared. “Nothing.”

“Don’t nothin’ me. You said that thing about not likin’ him for a reason, and I kept fuckin’ forgettin’ to ask you about it. What happened?”

When the hell had I acquired an older brother? I wondered before the tall blond, who looked nothing like me, waved his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture that had me scowling. “It isn’t a big deal.”

He simply moved his fingers again, and I realized in that moment, he wasn’t going to let this go. He’d put his Aiden britches on, apparently. I figured the sigh that came out of me was well deserved. I dropped my head back, slowly lifted it, and peeked at him with one eye.

“He’s a douche bag. You know that,” I went with, opening my other eye. “And he tried coming onto me once.”

Zac blinked those baby blue eyes. “When?”

“Maybe a year and a half ago.” It was definitely a year and a half ago, but who needed to be specific? “I was out with Diana at a bar and he was there. He was drunk. He recognized me… and then he just started being obnoxious, trying to kiss me and be sneaky and touch my butt. Just douche-bag stuff.”

Reaching up, my friend tugged at his earlobe and shot me the fakest smile someone as genuine as Zac was capable of. That didn’t put me at ease. At all. “No shit, sugar.”

I waved him off. “It isn’t a big deal. I just try to stay away from him now. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

His eyes had kind of glazed over and he seemed to daze off, looking at something over my shoulder.

“Yoo-hoo. Zac?”

His eyes strayed back to look at me, focusing, a real smile finally reappearing on his mouth. “Sorry.”

This guy didn’t have a rude bone in his body; the fact he’d zoned out didn’t sit well with me. I narrowed my eyes at him. “What were you thinking about?”

He threw my words back at me. “Nothing, Mrs. Graves.”

“Stop it.”

The next week went by pretty quickly. I had a lot of work to do, and when I was called and requested for an emergency babysitting job by Diana’s brother, Rodrigo, because she couldn’t get out of her appointments, I didn’t say no. I couldn’t say no. I really liked his boys, and even if Rodrigo was an idiot who refused to believe his sister could lie to him, he was still a great guy. It just so happened that I found a little toy his kids had that made me laugh, and paid them five dollars for it.

My mom had called once to ask if I was planning on coming for Thanksgiving dinner, and I gave her the same response I had every Thanksgiving since I was eighteen. “No.” I’d stopped bothering to make excuses why I couldn’t make it. My little brother wasn’t going to be there, and him begging would have been the only reason I’d show up, but he’d never do that to me. She didn’t say a word about Susie or the other two demons I shared genetics with.

Before I knew it, it was Wednesday and the house was empty. With a Thanksgiving Day game against the Three Hundreds’ top rivals, the only roommate I had who was still in town was gone all the time.

So I was surprised on Wednesday afternoon when my phone beeped from its spot next to me on the desk.

It was Aiden.

Aiden: Game tomorrow?

Me: Sign me up, but just one ticket this time. Please

Aiden: Only one?

Me: Yes…

Zac was gone and Diana had let me know via text message that she was going to see her parents in San Antonio for Thanksgiving and that if I wanted to come along she wouldn’t purposely wreck her car on the drive there. I texted her back, letting her know I appreciated her generous offer but was fine with staying in Dallas because I was planning on seeing my little brother who was playing a game nearby on Friday. I figured on Thanksgiving Day, I could get ahead on doing some T-shirt designs I’d been inspired to do instead.

Aiden: There’s no one to go with you?

Me: < – Forever Alone – >

Aiden: < Forever Annoying >

Me: You’d miss me if I was gone, sunshine.

I’d barely hit ‘send’ when I cursed, then sent him another message.

Me: Thanks for the ticket.

He didn’t respond, but when I got out of the shower that night and found something in the team’s colors wrapped in clear plastic on my bed, I stared at it. And when I ripped off the packaging and shook it out to see that it was a brand new Three Hundreds jersey with GRAVES written on the back, I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.

Taking a peek at the clock next to my bed, I saw it wasn’t nine yet and made my way to Aiden’s room, the master bedroom down the hall. His door was closed when I got there, but I knocked, listening for him on the other side.

Sure enough, “Vanessa?”

“It’s Muffin.”

He made a noise I couldn’t distinguish. “Come in.”

I turned the knob and slipped inside, leaving it open behind me. Sitting on the edge of his California king-sized bed, Aiden was busy rubbing a towel over his head. The first thing I noticed was how smooth his jaw was. Without the beard, he looked younger… nicer. I’d only seen him freshly shaved a handful of times in the past since he usually did it at night and it all grew back in while he slept.

“Did the light go out in your room?” The smug-ass dragged a towel over the back of his neck as he asked.

“You’re so funny.” I rolled my eyes so he knew how irritating I thought he was. “Dummy.”

The corner of his full mouth perked up a bit as he tossed his towel into the hamper in the corner of the room.

And it was right then that I realized he was only wearing that little piece of gold resting right by his collarbones and boxer briefs. Gray, form-fitting, made with some kind of spandex, boxer briefs.

My mouth went dry and I averted my eyes to look somewhere else—anywhere else—instead… instead of at those huge thighs I used to see all the time in compression shorts when I would take pictures of him. Or instead of that thick, shadowy bulge tucked along to the left against his leg. I locked my eyes on his dresser. “I, ah, saw the present you left me on my bed,” I noted, grasping for words.

“Uh-huh,” he muttered as I saw him stand up in my peripheral vision and make his way toward the same dresser I was trying to focus on.

What was he doing? I swallowed and peeked at the greatest butt I’d ever seen for one second before looking away again. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

The two bulky muscles lining either side of his neck went up and down. You’d never seen trapezius muscles until you’d seen Aiden’s. “I got it for free, and you needed a new one.”

I glanced at his butt one more time for a second. I was weak. Then I glanced again. So freaking weak. “They gave it to you for free?” My voice sounded strained and why wouldn’t it? I could stop staring at the greatest bubble butt and pair of thighs in the universe. I wanted to bite them. I honestly wanted to bite them.

“It’s the only one I’ve ever asked for. They had to give it to me,” he explained over his shoulder.

His comment warmed me way more than it should have, and it had me focusing on the gold chain around his neck. I wanted to ask him about his parents and why they weren’t figures in his life. I wanted to know if he’d been a pain in the ass when he was a kid. More than anything though, I wanted to find out what was his favorite thing about his grandparents was. But I didn’t. Instead, I asked his back, “Can I ask you something?”

“I said you could.”

We might get along better, but I still wanted to shank him from time to time. Something told me that would never change. “I’ve always wondered, why didn’t you play hockey instead of football?”

He turned that big, damp body around to face me as he slipped heather-gray pajama pants up his legs. Those long, size-thirteen feet peeked out from beneath the baggy hems of his pants. And that upper body…

It hadn’t gotten old, and I hadn’t become desensitized to those hard, square pecs covered with a sprinkling of dark chest hair. Or those hard slabs of stacked abdominal muscles. Those wide shoulders, trim waist, and bulging biceps only made him look that much more spectacular. He’d turned down a magazine cover photo shoot for some stupid reason the year before, and I hadn’t understood why. Even when he was at a higher weight, he still looked amazing. If he sold a calendar filled with pictures of himself in it, he could make so much money.

That was something to think about later when Aiden wasn’t busy telling me I was stereotyping the rest of his countrymen. “Not every Canadian is good at hockey,” he explained, tying the cord of his pajama pants.

I glanced at his calm face and raised my eyebrows. “Are you saying you sucked at it?”

He gave me that smug look I usually hated as he planted his hands at his waist. “I didn’t ‘suck at it.’ I’m good at most sports. I didn’t enjoy playing it, is all.”

Arrogant much?

“You’ve sat through all those interviews with me. You know everything,” he added in a way that struck a chord with me, like he was trying to tell me something I couldn’t piece together.

“You’ve always just talked about how you liked playing lacrosse, but that’s it.” For some reason, no one had ever outright asked him why he didn’t play the more popular Canadian sport than one that was predominantly American, at least as far as I could remember.

The big guy leaned his bottom against the dresser. “My grandfather enrolled me in it for a few seasons when I was younger, but it didn’t click for me, you didn’t know that?” I shook my head. “My high school’s hockey coach tried recruiting me to play for him in grade 10. I was already six feet tall. I weighed two hundred pounds, but I told him I wasn’t interested.”

While I recognized the differences between football and hockey were vast, I still couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to hint at. “What didn’t you like about it?”

“I didn’t like it. It’s that simple.” His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and the big guy didn’t make any theatrics about what he said. “My dad used to beat the shit out of me because he could, once a week at least until I hit puberty. I’ve gotten into enough fights in my life; I’ll fight somebody if there’s a good reason, but not for a game.”

I never tried to throw myself too much of a pity party over what I’d grown up with. Over not being loved enough by my mom. Over not being important enough for whoever my dad was to stick around or at least attempt to meet me. While I definitely wasn’t as messed up as my sisters, I had a temper. I got angry easily. But I had made myself learn how to control it. I had decided early on that I wasn’t going to let that emotion define me.

I wanted to be better. I wanted to be a good person. I wanted to be someone—not necessarily someone great or someone important—but someone I could live with.

My little brother didn’t drink at all, and I knew it was because of our mom’s drinking problem. While he was four years younger than me and had spent less time in that household than I had, he remembered enough. How could he not? But I didn’t want to avoid alcohol because I was scared of what it could do to me. I didn’t want to demonize it. I wanted to prove to myself that it wasn’t a monster that destroyed lives unless you let it.

Life was all about choices. You chose what to make out of what you had. And I wasn’t going to let it make me its bitch. I could be a mature adult who knew her limits. I could be a good person. Maybe not all the time, but enough.

So Aiden’s explanation, and the fact that his motherfucking asshole dad used to pick on him, pricked at the soft, tender pieces of this place that went deeper than my heart. I knew what it was like to not want to fall into a hole that had been dug for you before you even had a chance to fill it up. It made my eyes sting.

I made myself look down so he wouldn’t see what had to be eighty different unwanted emotions written all over my face.

And maybe Aiden felt as unbalanced as I did because he set the subject back into place, and moved on to a safer one. “I was playing lacrosse before that anyway.”

The rest of the story I was familiar with, and I told it while my gaze was still on the muted beige carpet. “Then Leslie talked you into trying football,” I relayed back to him the information he’d shared with others a hundred times before. According to the story, he’d never played football before and he’d been interested. The rest was history. Except now I knew a fragment of the story I didn’t before—he’d known Leslie for a long time. He’d been his grandfather’s best friend. Leslie believed he’d asked him at the right moment. It had been a split second decision that had changed the entire course of his life.

That summer between grade 10 and 11, he gained twenty pounds of muscle and practiced with Leslie several times a week. By the middle of his last year of high school, several schools in Canada and the U.S. had already begun trying to get in on the Aiden Graves pie. He was a phenomenon. A natural. His talent and hard work was etched so deeply into him, it was impossible to ignore the diamond in the rough.

“Leslie asked me to play for him the day after my grandfather caught me with a girl in his backseat, and told me I needed to find something more productive to do with my time or he would.”

How about that. He really wasn’t a virgin. Huh. My mouth twitched and I raised my gaze up to meet his. “Well, I think it’s really admirable that you only get into fights with people who deserve to get the shit kicked out of them. If no one else ever tells you, it’s really noble. Very superhero-y.”

My comment had the big guy rolling his eyes, uncomfortable with my compliment. Well, he was uncomfortable with every compliment ever hurled his way. I didn’t know why I found it so attractive, and I didn’t really want to, but it was impossible to feel otherwise. How could someone be so arrogant but so humble at the same time?

“I’m not even close to being some kind of hero,” he argued.

A burst of affection filled my chest. “You came to save me last week when I needed you. You can be an off-white knight in shining armor,” I told him before I could think twice about what I was saying.

His chin seemed to jerk back and those irises focused on me. His jaw went tight.

I’d already said enough, and I didn’t want to push too much. At the rate I was going, I’d end up complimenting his butt next. “Okay, I know it’s close to your bedtime, and I just wanted to say thank you for my gift. I’ll wear it with pride, but just don’t tell Zac I left his at home.”

The big guy nodded, standing straight. He shook out his hands at his sides. “Good night, Van.”

I took a step back and grabbed the doorknob, smiling as I closed the door on my way out. “Night, night.”

Meet me in the family room, the note, written in neat print on the back of a grocery store receipt, read; I’d only been expecting my ticket, not the pass to get me through security that had been inside along with it.

The pass burned as a constant reminder inside my pocket the entire game—a game they lost. I’d kept touching it to make sure it hadn’t fallen out, trying to wrap my head around why he would ask me to meet him afterward. I mean, I’d met him afterward a few times, but it had always been because he needed something from me when I worked for him.

I had to ask a few of the stadium’s employees where to go, because when I used to meet up with Aiden in the past, I would usually drive straight over and go through the entrance allocated for family members.

I wasn’t looking forward to going to the family room, mainly because it would be the first time I’d see everyone since last season. I wouldn’t call any of the wives I’d been friendly with ‘friends,’ but I didn’t think they’d forgotten about me in a year. Back then, I’d been the only woman in Aiden’s life, and for a little while, I’d been ‘the new girl’ because most of them hadn’t been convinced I was his assistant and our relationship was solely a business one.

And now…

Well, now I looked like a lying schmuck when there really hadn’t been anything going on between Aiden and me in the past. But it wasn’t like anyone was going to believe that now, even if I hadn’t seen them since his injury last October.

If I wanted to be honest with myself, I was dreading it a little.

Okay, more than a little.

I had to really reach down into my spine and pump some steel into it, reminding myself that I knew I hadn’t lied to anyone. As long as I knew that, it was all I would need. I was there for Aiden, not anyone else. In my head, I kept repeating those words as I marched through security checkpoint after security checkpoint with my pass and ID in my back pocket ready to get put to good use.

The ‘family room’ was really just a glorified area on the way toward the players’ parking lot, with a few couches and circular tables, clear away from the media. I took my time walking over, but it came too quickly anyway. With one last security check, I raised my chin up high and walked into the room like it was no big deal, like I had nothing to feel bad about.

The room was packed. Packed with kids and women and men of all ages. It was stuffed full of Three Hundreds’ apparel. The first “Oh, honey, congratulations!” smacked me right between the shoulder blades, and while I wasn’t any sort of actress, I didn’t like being a rude asshole when it was me being deceptive.

So I turned around and tried to give the woman talking a bright expression.

What followed was probably one of the most painful thirty minutes I’d ever spent, and that was saying a lot considering my last trip to El Paso had sucked complete ass.

“I am so happy for you!”

“You two are meant for each other!”

“Are you expecting?”

“You have to make sure to always support your man.”

“Make sure to plan the baby for the offseason!”

Meant for each other? My man? A fucking baby?

I wasn’t sure how I didn’t throw up. Honestly. Then there were all the subtle comments about how an NFO player’s wife, especially a player for the Three Hundreds, was supposed to act. The players were supposed to be the center of the universe. Families were preferably not seen and not heard. ‘We’ were the invisible support systems.

I didn’t know a lot about the women, but I knew enough about the guys from the bits and pieces that Zac occasionally shared with me, and only a few of them were impressive. And if a guy was a piece of crap, what was his girlfriend or significant other like?

It was when I was in the middle of thinking about things like that, that I remembered I was married to the person who was considered by many to be the biggest asshole on the team. At least according to what Zac had told me in the past. He wasn’t friendly, much less open, and he put zero effort into establishing friendships with anyone, much less the spouses and families of the people he played alongside with. He’d said it time and time again, he didn’t have time for friendships or relationships.

What did that say about me? I was a lying asshole and a prostitute, depending on how you analyzed the facts.

I was in the middle of trying to lie to one of the vets’ wives that I’d already had a Thanksgiving meal when players began trickling into the room. Apparently, her husband was one of them because she patted my arm almost immediately after peeking over my shoulder. “I’ll have to get your phone number next game. We should get together, babe.”

On top of being an asshole and a prostitute, I was an imposter. Here were these women who were trying to be nice and include me—though a portion of them were those who had turned me off from hanging out in the family box—and here was I. A fake wife. I was a person who would be out of their lives in a few years, if not sooner depending on whatever Aiden decided in the near future.

Maybe this whole hanging-out-in-the-family-room thing hadn’t been a good idea.

The good thing was, the regular season was already more than halfway over.

With a loose one-armed hug, she left me standing there alone for the first time since I’d walked into the room. I watched as the players approached their families in varying moods. Some of them had acceptant smiles, some of them had reluctant ones, and others wore sad smiles. A few looked pissed and didn’t bother trying to hide it; it was obvious they would have rather been anywhere else than where they were.