Breakaway (The Rule Book Collection)

by A. M. Johnson

  She let out a breathy sigh, and I had the urge to kiss away the sadness from her lips. Kiss her until my hands sank into the curve of her hips and…

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Her question cleared my head. “Nah.”

  That wasn’t the truth and I wasn’t sure why I lied. But it seemed she ignored my answer anyway as she continued without pause.

  “I married the first guy I loved. And over time, I think we’ve both fallen away from each other. We’re so different.”

  “You changed?”

  “No…” She was thoughtful, looking through me when she said, “He did.”

  “How so?”

  Her laugh was gentle. “Do you really care?”

  “I’m still sitting here, aren’t I?”

  She ran the tip of her finger around the top of her glass. “He doesn’t like me anymore.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No, I mean...” She stumbled over her words and took a deep breath. “I mean, I’m still me. I’m still the same girl he fell in love with. The girl who loves bad punk rock music, and trashy novels. I binge watch shows when I should be cleaning. I still want to get the tattoo I’ve always wanted, but he gets angry if I talk about it, if I talk about the past. I want to be spontaneous again, travel—do something risky. He’s happy in his tiny, complacent, little life. He tells me I need to grow up, be serious all the time, but I’m only thirty-two, and I feel older than I should. I feel so stagnant.”

  “If you were married to me you could do whatever you wanted.”

  Her vacant eyes flared and locked me to my seat. I shouldn’t have said that, but what she said next floored me.

  “Time is what binds me.”

  “How long…”

  “Thirteen years. We’ve been married for thirteen years.”

  I coughed. “Whoa, that’s a long ass time.”

  “Too long to throw away.”

  “Kids?”

  “No.”

  Time wasn’t enough to hold a person. Time was fragile, and loyalty could only get you so far. I’d learned that for myself the hard way. It didn’t matter how much you loved a person, it wouldn’t make them love you back.

  “Where is he tonight?”

  “Back home in Richmond for a work thing. I’m here to visit with my family. I needed to get away… missed being here. I was raised east of Tampa, but moved years ago when we had the opportunity to build our accounting firm with his best friend from college.”

  “You’re an accountant?” Thinking about her in a tight blouse with the top four buttons popped opened, her hair pulled up into a bun, turned my grin into something scandalous.

  I had her blushing as she laughed through her next sentence. The woman had read my mind. “It’s not that exciting.”

  “I’d like to see you behind a desk.” My tone was coated with innuendo.

  “So charming, did you pull that fantasy from the latest issue of Playboy?”

  My chuckle shook my shoulders. “Nope, just my own dirty mind.”

  The rim of the glass rested against her bottom lip as she smiled at me. It was easy to make her smile, to make her happy. I wondered how, in thirteen years, her husband hadn’t realized that. Then again, I didn’t really know her at all, did I? For all I knew, it could be the wine that pulled out those pretty smiles and brushed those soft cheeks with a glow.

  When the server came by the table, I thought for sure Stevie would ask for the check, but she surprised me and ordered another glass. She was more than tipsy when we’d decided to take off. I paid our bill even when she tried to kick me under the table in an attempt to stop me. Apparently, she was a feisty drunk. I let myself imagine she was feisty when it came to other things, too. This girl was bottled up and I wanted to set her free. We’d spent the last hour talking about her life in Richmond. She was bored at her job and hated that she hadn’t made any real solid friendships over the years. All her friends were his friends, and after she’d had her last glass of wine, her truths had become a faucet. I wanted to drown in them for her. Her husband had put her on the bottom shelf and, from how she portrayed it, he’d forgotten she existed beyond the office and the normal good mornings and good nights of their marriage.

  She never once asked me about my life, and it didn’t offend me at all. She needed a sounding board and allowing her to vent was a hell of a lot better than listening to some broad tell me how great I was, when she didn’t even know me beyond the rink. Only once did I have to deal with one of my teammates. He’d stopped by the table on the way back from the bathroom and asked if I was heading out with them to the strip club. Stevie had gotten a good laugh at that and, when I said no, Bryson shrugged his shoulders and went about his business.

  The usual humid air clung to the fabric of my shirt as I held the bar door open for her. I felt disappointed that she was ready to leave, and almost wanted to ask her back to my apartment, which was a quick car ride away. But I didn’t want to be that guy. I didn’t want to capitalize on her misery. She was married and confused and needed to figure her shit out. And I certainly didn’t need to open the new season with another cheating scandal.

  “Thanks,” she said as we walked a few steps away from the crowd of people smoking outside the building.

  “For what? The wine? It was—”

  “No. For listening.” She took a step closer, and holy fuck, I wanted to reach out, wrap my arms around her waist and pull her body against mine.

  She didn’t seem fragile anymore under the light of the moon. She was taller than most girls, but small compared to my six-foot-one frame. The table we’d sat at had hidden her lower body for the most part, but standing in front of me was a full-on hourglass. Those hips and that ass. She was thick, but in a good way. Like I wanted to bite her thick, hold her down thick, explore every inch of her and not have to be gentle kind of thick. Goddamn it, she was married.

  “Your husband is an idiot,” I blurted without thinking, and she giggled.

  The sound of it was like fog in the dense October, Florida air. Warm and soothing.

  “I’ll make sure and tell him you said so.”

  The breeze was salted as it stirred from the bay, whipping strands of her long chocolate waves across her cheeks. She lifted her fingers to her face to move the stray pieces, and laughed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Her eyes closed and her nostrils flared as she breathed in. My hand itched to touch her, to feel the flesh of her cheeks, but I kept my arms planted at my sides.

  “I’ll find us a ride.”

  I reached into my pocket, disappointment filling my chest again when she spoke so quietly I almost missed it. “I don’t think I can go home yet.”

  All my restraint got stuck in my throat when her wide eyes pleaded with mine. I didn’t want to use her. She was drunk and I wasn’t about to take advantage. Not after everything she told me. She wasn’t the type of woman I wanted to use for a quick, messy fuck. In another lifetime, she would’ve been the type of woman I would’ve tried to keep.

  “Let’s walk around, sober you up,” I offered, and as if to prove my point, she took a misstep and laughed.

  “Good idea.”

  It was late enough that the usual crowds had dispersed. The bars were still open but the sidewalks were empty.

  “Ready?” I asked and let myself take one small token as I threaded our fingers together. She paused, tipping her chin, her eyes examining my hand in hers. “Am I overstepping?”

  “No.” She lingered on the connection briefly before tilting her gaze to my mouth.

  Her hand was hot in mine and I let it sear through me. I licked my lips and stared down into hooded eyes. The static in the air fed the erratic beat of my heart. Want. Want. Want. The sound of my pulse thundered in my ears. My free hand cupped her cheek, and her lids fluttered closed. We were both breathing too fast, sucking down each other’s air like it was precious. My thumb dusted the high arch of her cheekbone and her lashes tickled the tip. She was go
rgeous and scared and felt perfect under my palm.

  “Hey.” My voice was rough with suppressed need as I lowered my hand from her face. Her eyes opened and that fear I sensed shadowed her irises. “Tell me to stop.”

  “Stop.” The way she said it though… she couldn’t lie if she tried.

  “We shouldn’t do this, right?”

  “Right.”

  But her hand remained in mine.

  I couldn’t stand still or I’d break down and kiss her.

  “Come on,” I said and led her along the walkway.

  I kept my nose down as we made our way through a group of guys sporting Tampa Bay jerseys. We walked about a block before I tested her again. “What if someone found out?”

  “They wouldn’t.” She stopped and shook her head. “I mean… nothing is going to happen.” She let go of my hand and I didn’t fight it.

  “Would you feel guilty?”

  I wasn’t sure why I asked. She’d clearly stated nothing was going to happen. But my heart was a fucking battering ram, and I could see my need reflected in her eyes. Her blush had spread all the way down to those spectacular tits, and the alcohol I’d consumed blurred the line. I stepped in, leaving little room for her to breathe anything other than me.

  “I’d feel terrible.” Her admission was real and I backed off.

  I knew better.

  She cleared her throat and left my eyes cold as she turned and walked away from me. I let her get a few feet in front of me, but she stumbled again and I grabbed her hand. It was more selfish than valiant, but she held onto me, and I smiled even though I shouldn’t have.

  That hot silence covered us as Stevie kept pace with me. Seconds, maybe minutes, passed before she said, “Tell me something, Mark… I talked all night, it’s your turn.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know. What do you do for a living? Where did you go to college, did you even go to college…” She playfully bumped into my shoulder. “Oh God, are you still in college?”

  My laughter brought us back to that pleasant little bubble we had going at the bar. Where it was safe.

  “I’m twenty-five, not eighteen.”

  She glared at me and I laughed harder. I hadn’t laughed this much in a long time.

  “I grew up in New Hampshire, went to The University of Maine.”

  “Major?”

  We both stopped on the corner as we waited for the light to change. I had no clue where we were going. But things felt easy, so I ran with it. I just hoped she didn’t ask me what I did for a living again.

  “Education.”

  That got her attention and a slow smile spread across her face. “Like a teacher?”

  “Yeah, well, more like a coach.”

  “You’re a coach?”

  “Not yet, maybe someday.” I had my dream job already, but being a coach, watching kids succeed, reach their goals, help them live out their hockey dreams, when I retired from the NHL, coaching college hockey was all I wanted to do.

  The light changed and before she could ask me another question, I gently pulled her into the crosswalk. We’d walked farther than I had intended and if we kept going, eventually, I’d have to tell her the truth about who I was, and I didn’t want to watch her change from this unassuming woman to some fangirl. Maybe she wouldn’t, but my past experiences proved otherwise.

  We got to the other side of the street and I released my grip on her hand. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. “It’s getting late, can we share a ride? I live on the other side of town.”

  “Sure.”

  My phone felt heavy in my hand, and I had to make myself not look at her as I found the closest ride with the app on my cell. “The car will be here in two minutes.”

  “Great.” She didn’t sound like she thought that was great.

  The awkward moment didn’t last long, thank God. The ride arrived faster than I thought it would and, before I knew it, I was tucked away in the back seat asking Stevie for her address.

  “I live kind of far away, you should get dropped off first.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  I gave the driver my address, and without any guilt, I took her hand in mine. She scooted closer, and I forgot I wasn’t supposed to want this, want her. Her hair smelled like the salted air of the bay mixed with something fruity. She melted nicely against my side and I wanted to pull her even closer, but I kept my hand in hers and my arm as the barrier.

  “Who’s Atlas?” she asked and caught me staring.

  “My dog, I got him last month.”

  Her free hand traced the letters of ink on my forearm. I didn’t give a damn that my skin broke out in goose bumps, and that she could see, plain as day, how her touch affected me.

  “Great Dane, cutest fucking puppy on the planet.”

  She bit back her smile. Her teeth pressing into the pink of her bottom lip.

  “You’re kind of adorable.” She giggled and tapped my shoulder again with hers.

  “What? Atlas is like my kid.”

  She smirked. “I bet.”

  The driver stopped outside of my apartment building, and I exhaled an unsure gust of air. This was it. My last shot on goal. I shouldn’t take it. It’d be a sloppy shot, but maybe this was what she needed to remember who she was, just like her friend had said.

  “Come up and meet him?”

  The seconds that ticked by were agonizing. The emotions flew past her eyes as she struggled with her own conscience.

  “Yeah?”

  I gripped her chin between my fingers, letting my thumb explore the outer line of her bottom lip. “Is that what you want?”

  She swallowed. “I should go home.”

  I let go of her hand and chin at the same time.

  “You should.” I smiled before I turned to open the door. Even though I felt like I was letting something amazing slip through my fingers, this was the right thing to do. Nothing ever good came from lies or deceit. I sucked down a sobering breath. I’d been the victim once, and I never wanted to be the one to inflict that pain on another person. I’d let Stevie’s eyes, her lips, the cloud of beer, and the sweet smell of her skin get the better of me. “Thanks for chilling with me tonight,” I said once I was out of the car.

  “Thanks for keeping me company.”

  I leaned down like a masochist stealing another greedy breath of her scent. “Take care of yourself, Stevie.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply, or a goodbye. I shut the door and tapped the roof of the car twice. I took the loss like a man, and as the car drove away, I pretended I didn’t see the regret in her eyes as she turned for one last look.

  Present Day

  A quiet tension had fallen across the table, but I hadn’t noticed it at first. Typically, I was good at that sort of thing. Feeling out the dynamic, seeing a play before it happens, tuning in to the opponent’s line and realizing the weak link and taking advantage, but I was too busy trying to hear above the pounding of my own pulse, too drawn into her eyes to realize I might’ve made a huge fucking mistake approaching her.

  “Wow.” Her smile faltered as the guy sitting next to her draped his arm possessively behind her chair. “I never thought—”

  “I’d see you again.” I finished the sentence for her, hiding the nervous candor of my voice behind my grin. I kept my focus though and rested my hand on the high-top table. “You look good.”

  Stevie’s lips lifted at the corners as her gaze lingered, at first on my face, my mouth, and then lazily down my body as if she couldn’t believe I was standing here. The feeling was mutual.

  “Who’s your friend?” the guy sitting next to her asked, regarding me in a way that if we’d been on the ice I would’ve thought about punching his teeth in. All condescension and bravado.

  One of the other suits almost spit his beer all over the table at the question. Fuck, he recognized me. “You have to be kidding. Ben, you’re not that out of the
loop, are you?”

  Ben.

  Shit.

  That possessiveness made sense, and I felt a twinge of guilt. She’d only said his name a few times the night I’d met her, but I’d never forgotten it. He was the reason I hadn’t taken what I wanted. The reason that drum in my heart stopped beating and that familiar feeling of loss, the feeling I got when I was sure I had the win but shot too wide. She was his.

  Stevie’s eyes fell to her friends across the table. Confusion cinching her brows together. “What are you talking about, Alec? Out of the loop?”

  I clenched my jaw waiting for the hammer to drop, or maybe my heart. I hated the fucker who was about to unveil me, show me off, and ruin everything. The third guy, not Alec, not the whistleblower, kept his head down avoiding my stare as his friend plowed along. Alec’s excitement, his inner fan, started to unravel. Most people tried to pretend not to be affected by the “stardom” of a celebrity or an athlete. It wasn’t arrogance, it was a fact. Eventually, the cool exterior people held onto cracked and faded and exposed their intentions.

  “You guys…” Alec sent a glare around the table before giving me an apologetic smile. “Mark Carmelo…” Stevie’s eyes widened when he said my name.

  Her face blanched. I could almost hear the question in her eyes. Why did her friend know my name? Several emotions played across her features. Anxiety, confusion, and finally as he said, “He’s a starting forward for Tampa Bay.” Something akin to mortification settled inside her eyes.

  “And I’m supposed to know what—”

  She cut Ben off with a whispered, “Hockey?”

  Her face—that fear and wonder swirling in her stormy eyes—was precisely why I’d never wanted Stevie to know when I’d first met her who I was. I’d wanted our moment to be pure of that infectious expectation. I’d been just a guy in a bar, hitting on a beautiful woman, and it had been hands down one of the most bittersweet nights of my life. I couldn’t lie and say I hadn’t thought about her, about the what-ifs, over the past year. It was like the whole thing had been some sort of dream. Like I’d conjured her from my winning-night high.