Bishop blinks slowly. “I thought we already established that this wasn’t a favor. It was me making sure that your dick ex knows that you’re not available and he doesn’t have a chance with you. Not ever again. That video makes things a lot easier, if you think about it.”
“Easier how?” All I can see is the nightmare this is going to be: people asking questions and wanting things from me because I know Bishop and I’m related to RJ. All the time I’ve spent protecting myself from the spotlight has been for nothing.
“You don’t have to hide behind hoodies and sunglasses anymore. I can pick you up whenever and wherever.”
I stop pacing and spin to face him. He’s still naked. And so am I. He still has a semi, and I’m anxious. “That can’t happen, Bishop. We can’t be seen in public together.”
“Why the hell not?”
Because I’ve worked too hard not to be Rook Bowman’s sister just to end up as Bishop Winslow’s girlfriend. My phone rings before I can open my mouth to share that, and like an idiot I answer the call.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all morning! What the hell is going on?” Awesome. Now I get to deal with my angry brother.
“Hi, RJ.” I yank the bedsheet free and wrap it around myself, because it feels weird to talk to my brother when I’m not fully dressed.
“Seriously, Stevie? You’re making out with Winslow in public now?”
“Relax, RJ, it was just a kiss. It’s not like he stole my virtue or anything. That’s been gone since junior year of high school.”
Bishop makes a noise that sounds a lot like a growl, but my brother continues his angry tirade, forcing me to give him my attention. “I did not need to know that, and it’s not the point. Winslow was told to keep his damn hands off you while you were working together, and clearly that’s a bunch of bullshit. How long has this been going on?”
This has so much potential backlash: things I hadn’t considered in the heat of the moment, like Bishop getting in trouble. So I do the only thing I can think of as triage. “It was me. I kissed Bishop. He came with me to the event as a favor because Joey was going to be there with a date, and I didn’t want to go alone. This is on me; it’s my mistake.”
Bishop opens his mouth to speak, but I give him a warning glare and a headshake.
“Are you still with him?”
“No. I’m alone right now.”
“I’m coming over.”
“No. You’re not. I have shit to do today that doesn’t include you reaming me out for making out with someone you don’t like. I already told you: I made a mistake. I don’t need you to make me feel worse about it. I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I don’t wait for him to answer before I end the call and toss the phone on my bed.
My bed that smells like sex and Bishop.
“Why’d you do that?” Bishop asks quietly.
“To get you off the hook with my brother and your teammates.”
“And did you mean that?”
“Mean what?” I rub my temple, exhausted, even though I’ve only been awake for a handful of minutes.
“That this was a mistake.” He motions between us.
“I don’t know, Bishop. I just . . . didn’t expect all the attention. It’s not something I want, and it never has been.” I sigh and turn away. “I have to take down decorations today.”
“Pattie and Jules said they would deal with that,” he reminds me. “Or is this you telling me you want me to leave?”
“I need time to think. I’ve spent a lot of years avoiding my brother’s spotlight, and now I’m in it in a way I never wanted to be. I don’t know how to deal with it at all.” I can’t look directly at him because if I do I’m afraid of what he’ll see. That I don’t want him to go at all. That I’m scared and confused and I don’t want what’s supposed to be ours to be everyone else’s as well.
“Right. Yeah. I get it. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He bends to pick his clothes up off the floor and heads down the hall without another word. Several seconds later the door clicks, and I crumple in a heap on my bed that smells like last night’s decisions.
I think I just broke my own heart.
CHAPTER 25
THAT WENT WAY WRONG
Bishop
How I’d planned to start my morning: inside Stevie.
How my morning actually went: not at all like I’d planned.
I do the walk of shame across the hall naked, holding all my clothes. Thankfully, no one is there to witness it. My brother isn’t home, so I don’t have to deal with him, which is a good thing because I’m pretty much in the mood for nothing and no one. Talk about a shitty end to the best sex I’ve had in . . . well . . . ever.
I don’t want to wash the smell of Stevie off me, but I realize going to practice smelling like sex after a viral make-out video goes live isn’t a great plan, so I jump in the shower and head to the arena. I get stopped by Alex before I can step foot in the locker room. “We need to have a chat.”
Obviously he’s seen the video. “I can explain.”
“I don’t want an explanation. I want you to shut your damn mouth and listen.” I follow him down the hall, away from the sound of my teammates, to his office. Alex motions me inside and forcefully shuts the door. “Sit down.”
I follow the order and keep my mouth shut, unsure how this is going to play out. A flash of inconvenient memory pops up—one of me with my head between Stevie’s legs.
“Wipe that smirk off your damn face.” He slaps a palm on the desk, startling me.
I sit up straighter. “Sorry.”
He drops into the chair behind his desk instead of the club chair beside me, which tells me a lot about his frame of mind. One of the reasons Alex is such a successful coach is that he treats us all as equals. Right now, I’m not his equal at all. I’m the problem, and he’s the coach.
“I asked one thing from you, and you couldn’t follow through. Do you understand how that video looks?”
“It wasn’t a—”
He cuts me off, his voice rising with anger. “You were supposed to keep it professional while you were being rehabbed. That was it. Instead you’re all over social media making out with the person who was rehabbing you. It’s like a blatant ‘Fuck you’ to me. To this organization. Is that what you meant to do?”
Until this very moment I hadn’t looked at it that way, but I can see how he and everyone else would. Which is a bit of an eye-opener. I try to come up with some kind of defense for my behavior. “I’m back on the ice, though, so technically I did keep it professional while I was being rehabbed.”
“That’s not the damn point!” He slams his fist on his desk, making the water glass rattle. He takes a few deep breaths and flips his laptop open. Spinning it around, he cues up the video that’s gone viral. The one of me making out with Stevie. It seems a lot more graphic and intense on a larger screen. “Do you have any idea how this looks from the other side?”
Like soft-core porn is the first thought that comes to my mind, but I don’t think it’s what he wants to hear. When I don’t answer right away, he barrels on.
“This whole thing makes it look like you’re not serious about your rehab at all, or your teammates, for that matter, or my goddamn orders.”
“I’ve been working my ass off.”
“Based on this, it looks like you’ve been doing a hell of a lot more than that.” Alex pinches the bridge of his nose. “Rehab with Stevie is done.”
“But—”
“There are no buts, Bishop. We laid out the rules, and you shat all over them.”
“I did follow your orders until last night.”
He gives me a look that tells me he thinks I’m full of shit. “If there was something going on, you should’ve been forthcoming, but you weren’t.”
“I would’ve told you if I’d had the chance, but that wasn’t really possible, now, was it?” Although, to be fair, I planned to change things last night, regardless. I should’ve told
Alex about the event either way, but I hadn’t considered how it would look, which is really damn bad.
“Are you seriously lipping off to me, Winslow?”
“I’m trying to explain. I worked my ass off with Stevie. We spent a ton of time together over the past two months, and until last night I kept my end of the bargain. I was hands off and focused. She’s the reason I’m back on the ice.”
“Which means you don’t need her for PT anymore. If she actually worked for the team, she’d be out of a damn job for this. I need you to see the team physiotherapist, and then you can head home.”
“What about practice?”
“I think you need to do me a favor and give your team captain some time to settle down.”
“Let me get this straight. I’m being sent home because Rook is in a mood?”
“You’re being sent home because I need to set an example. You went against a direct order, and you didn’t come to me when you should have. This could’ve been avoided. PT and then home. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
I don’t ask any more questions because I don’t want to make things worse.
I get to play the following night, but I can’t say that’s a good thing. My head is all over the place, and Rook is pissed at me, which means everyone is tense. Add to that missing out on practice yesterday, and my on-ice performance is less than awesome. I’m also tight as hell from not having Stevie forcing extra PT on me.
To make a shit night even shittier, I haven’t seen or heard from Stevie since she sent me home yesterday morning. I don’t know what the protocol is. She wants space, so does that mean I should leave her alone entirely? Do I send her flowers? A pizza? Do I knock on her door and ask her if she’s ready to talk? Or do I let the dust settle and wait for her to come to me?
It’s late by the time I get home from the game. I stand in the middle of the foyer, breathing in the excessively fragrant flowers sitting on the glass-topped table, considering whether I should knock on her door. I don’t want to cause myself more problems with my team, and I don’t want to push Stevie to talk about this before she’s ready, so I leave it alone, even though I don’t want to.
The next morning we leave for a short series of away games. We’re playing in Nashville, Tennessee. Being in my home state is something I usually get excited for. It means I’ll invariably run into old friends from college, but I’m not looking forward to having to explain the viral video.
My go-to defense is generally to avoid commenting when stuff crops up on social media. It’s what I’ve always done with the women who’ve posted pictures of me after they’ve slept with my brother. But I’ve never had anything spread so far or wide this fast, so ultimately I’m avoiding doing anything because I honestly don’t know where Stevie and I stand, since she’s not talking to me.
I don’t want to corroborate what she said to Rook about it being on her, but I also don’t want to say we’re dating if we’re not. It’s a fucking mess. Until we have a conversation, I’ve decided to keep my damn mouth shut. Lord knows when I open it up and say the things I want to, I usually cause an assload of problems for myself.
Kingston and I are sharing a room, as we usually do, but he’s been off with me since the viral video happened. He drops his suitcase on the bed, unzips it, and starts putting his stuff away. Kingston functions on routine. He turns on the steamer he always packs so he can rid his clothes of wrinkles before he hangs them in the closet.
I flop down on the other bed and fold an arm behind my head. “How long are you going to be pissed at me for?”
Kingston moves his boxers from his suitcase to the nightstand drawer beside his bed. “I’m not angry.”
“Really? ’Cause it kinda seems like you are.”
He rolls his head like he’s working the kinks out of his neck before he turns to face me. “I’m disappointed.”
“About what?”
“How you’re dealing with this whole thing.”
“You mean the Stevie thing?’”
“What other thing is there?” he asks.
“It’s not my fault someone posted a video of us kissing.”
His lips thin, and he shakes his head. “Maybe not, but you’ve done nothing to dispel any of the rumors out there, made no statement; you haven’t even apologized to Rook.”
“What the hell do I have to apologize for?”
“For not thinking your actions through, Bishop. You put his little sister under a spotlight and did nothing to protect her after the fact. You say you’re into her and you want to date her, but your lack of action says exactly the opposite, don’t you think?”
“Stevie freaked out and told me she needed time to think and she didn’t want to be in my limelight, and now she won’t talk to me. Then Coach told me that my rehab with Stevie was over and that he better not find out I’m going behind his back. What am I supposed to do?”
“Something is better than nothing. That video has been up for four days, and you’ve done nothing. You dodge everyone’s questions and make no attempt to dissuade people from believing the worst. No one wants to be portrayed the way she is right now.”
“So what do I do?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Stop making her look like a puck bunny and claim her as yours.”
“But Coach said—”
“Coach and everyone else on the team thinks you messed around with her to be an asshole. No one actually knows you like this girl, apart from me.”
He makes a good point, one I hadn’t considered. “What if she doesn’t want to be mine?”
“At least you’ll have dispelled all the crap rumors floating around out there. You owe her that much, and the rest of your team, don’t you think?”
We end up winning the game and I manage an assist, which is a damn miracle, considering how frosty my teammates are being. Understandably so, considering the conversation I had with Kingston earlier. In spite of Stevie’s lack of communication, I send her a message to let her know that I still think we need to talk. I want to address the video, but I need a little guidance from her as to the direction I should take, because what I want to say is in direct opposition to what she told Rook, and that will inevitably open a whole different can of worms. I’m not opposed to dealing with him. I need to know what stance I’m taking, because the last thing I want is to throw Stevie under the bus, even if I think her bullshitting her brother is pointless.
As done as I am with today, I hit the bar with the rest of the team. As usual, Kingston orders a glass of milk and I grab a beer. A handful of people we went to college with show up, which means one beer turns into several. I keep checking my phone to see if Stevie’s responded, but nothing so far.
On my way back from the bathroom I stop at the bar. I should probably stop drinking soon, or tomorrow isn’t going to be awesome, but Stevie’s lack of communication and my inability to take action are making me antsy.
Someone edges their way between me and another guy waiting at the bar. The perfume is familiar, and I glance over at the woman crowding my personal space.
“Shippy! I thought it was you! Couldn’t forget that back-end view if I tried!”
Shit. This is the last thing I need after today. “Penny.”
Her lipsticked smile grows wider, likely at my displeased expression. “Don’t worry, Shippy, I’m not here to start problems.” She flashes her hand in front of my face, diamond ring glinting in the dimly lit bar.
“Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?” At least I don’t have to worry about her hitting on me.
“Chuck Peterson. Owns the real estate company in our hometown. You remember him, right? He’s got billboards all over town these days. Biggest agent in the city.”
“That’s great.” Obviously nothing has changed since she and I broke up: always about status, money, and flash.
I order myself a beer and offer to buy her whatever she wants, because it means I’ll get rid of her faster. Of course she wants some kind of f
ancy-ass drink. Her eyes light up and she slaps my chest. “Let’s get a selfie! Chuck will be so jealous that he missed seeing you and King!”
She pulls out her phone and hugs my arm, making that weird face all women seem fond of these days. I let her take the stupid pictures—otherwise she’s liable to make a scene—and I even try to smile so I don’t look like a complete asshole.
Thankfully, the drinks appear, so I toss some money on the bar and get my ass out of there before she can corner me again and make me take more selfies. I head for a table in the corner where Kingston is holed up with friends from college.
I’m about to take a seat when someone grabs me.
“What the hell, man?” Rook seethes.
I look down at his hand wrapped around my arm. “What the hell, what?”
His lip pulls up in a sneer. “You think this is some kind of joke?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“You and the goddamn bunnies. There’s a viral video of you and Stevie, and this is how you manage it, by making her look even worse?”
I thumb over my shoulder. “I went to college with these guys.”
“And that’s supposed to make it better, when you’re posing for selfies with some chick in a bar but you were macking on my damn sister four days ago?”
“You really don’t know shit, Rook.”
“Like hell I don’t. She’s a mess over this. Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage? Is there anyone you think about other than yourself?” Rook is all up in my space, just as agitated as me.
“Are you kidding me right now? You’re the reason she’s not talking to me. You’re the goddamn problem, Rook.”
“I’m the problem? I should’ve beat your ass weeks ago.”
“Hey, guys, you need to cool it unless you want to end up on suspension.” King tries to get us both to take a step back, but we ignore him.
I’m tired of Rook and his bullshit. Tired of people taking the things I want. “You think I give a shit about a suspension right now? Fuck that. You wanna throw down, Bowman, then let’s throw down.”
A Favor for a Favor Page 24
