Shit.
I sigh. Take a deep breath. Ask God for forgiveness for whatever it is I’m being punished for.
“Seriously, Maverick,” I huff, taking a step back with both hands on my hips.
His shirt is slightly raised and from here I can see the elastic band of his boxer briefs and the beginnings of his tattoo.
“Jeanne, where are you now to see your charming prince turn into a frog?” I grumble, reaching down for his ankles and pulling him out of the car until he falls flat on his ass.
“What the heck?” he grunts, his eyes flying open, red as crushed roses in a rainy afternoon.
“Stand up,” I order, and he mutters obscenities under his breath as he pushes himself up off the ground and leans against the car.
I take a deep breath and slide under his arm again, attempting to carry him up to the apartment the way I carried him to the car. Unlucky for me, he feels a heck of a lot heavier now. Or maybe I’m just thoroughly exhausted.
Maverick’s head lowers a little and I can feel him sniffing my hair. I want to swat him away, but my hands are too busy propping him up.
“Damn it, Maverick wake up and walk,” I grumble as my knees start to buckle. He does no such thing. Not that I don’t know better than to think he’d listen to my commands or make my life at least a little easier.
It’s only by the grace of God that we make it into the building. The elevator dings open almost as soon as I push the ‘call’ button and I lean him against the wall, grateful for the support.
How can one person be so damn reckless? There’s a game coming up in a few days, doesn’t he need to be in good form or something? It’s a miracle – and completely unfair - that he’s as good as he supposedly is because heaven knows he could put in a lot more effort in the “giving a shit” department.
The elevator stops at his floor and I manage to get him to the door. I fumble for the keycard, slide and kick the door open, catching my jaw before it drops at the sight of this godforsaken condo that no kid Maverick’s age should have.
I turn back to urge Maverick to step the hell inside and muster up the strength to walk to his bedroom, but Maverick’s no longer standing. He’s now fully sprawled out on the carpet outside his door. I can feel my temper rising, my muscles burning just at the thought of having to carry an ounce of his weight again.
“Get up!” I grunt, grabbing his shoulders, but he’s gone again. Out cold.
My shoulders are no longer interested in supporting his full weight and my arms feel completely raw from trying to keep him upright.
I stoop down beside him and poke his cheek, but he doesn’t respond.
“Wake up, damn it,” I groan. “Come on Mr. too cool for school.” I stand up and tower over him, kicking at his legs. “Wake up!” I plead one last time, contemplating whether or not it would be that much of an asshole move to leave him here. Just as I’m in the middle of deciding that an asshole move is just what Maverick deserves, his hand shoots up, catching my wrists in a tight grasp. He doesn’t have to pull hard to have my body shooting toward the him. Seconds later, he has me pinned under his arm, sprawled across his chest, lying on top of him.
My heart frantically flutters around in my chest.
His body is solid and every muscle feels toned to perfection against my soft stomach. His silky hair falls lazily over his forehead and his soft blonde eyelashes seem unfairly long and voluminous. Is this money or good genes?
“Dad,” he whispers, and my eyes are drawn higher, unable to avoid just how chiseled his jaw is and how perfectly his cupid’s bow rests atop plump lips. I despise myself for finding him attractive, but he is and it’s irritating. Seems like such a waste, really. A beautiful face, to mask such an ugly heart.
“It’s not my fault,” he mumbles, sounding like a human being for the very first time in his life.
“No. Please,” he mumbles.
“Maverick?”
“I’m sorry.”
His hold on me tightens, and it’s almost sad how much desperation there is in the way he clings to me.
Something is broken in this beast of a man. And no matter how tightly he holds on right now, I know that by the time morning comes, he’ll remember that I’m not the one who has the tools to fix him.
16
There’s a cold draft caressing my neck from somewhere unknown, forcing my eyes to flutter open. The surface beneath me is solid, but soft, and I glance down at an unfamiliar carpet. My upper body cries out as I try to move.
My herculean efforts to get Maverick to bed last night come flooding back to me. I look to my right to see if he’s budged and I’m shocked to see that I’m alone. I scoff at the realization.
He left me sleeping on the floor? Wow. Really classy, Maverick. First class.
I slowly pull my aching limbs up off the floor to stare at the door. He left me sleeping on the floor AND he locked me out? What an ass.
I raise my fists to pound on the door and manage to hit it only once when a small woman opens it. She’s wearing a light pink uniform and bright yellow latex gloves.
“Hi,” I blush, and she nods at me with a kind smile.
“He told me not to wake you.”
Asshole.
“You were both sleeping when I got here,” she explains and I nod, too ashamed to speak.
Walking over to the sink, she picks up a glass and starts to scrub away at it.
“That’s okay,” I smile, getting over the initial embarrassment of the situation. “Is he still here?” I ask, and she nods again.
“Bastard!” I say, under my breath, but the word is out clear enough to raise her brow.
“You can still run for the hills, you know.”
“I’m not much of a runner,” I joke and her eyes twinkle.
She sighs. “You ladies these days sure know how to pick ‘em.”
“I’m actually not his girlfriend,” I blush, and she covers her face and starts to apologize.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, looking a little ashamed by her assumption. “I just assumed because you were so both cuddly when I got here that....”
“No don’t apologize. It’s okay. You’re not far off.”
“Not far off?” She sets the glass in her hand down to pick up and dry another.
“I’m his wife.”
Her fingers go limp and the glass slips and falls with a crash to the floor. But that’s not the thing that startles me the most.
“Why the hell are you still here?” I turn around to see Maverick leaning against the wall wearing nothing but sweatpants and a hard frown.
“You’re welcome,” I growl at him and he scoffs.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, you’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“Do you even know how you got home?” I ask, trying hard not to shout. And trust me, it’s a hell of an effort because I am mad. Furious! Livid!!
“Do you want me to thank you for doing your job? What do you think this is?”
I can’t believe him.
“You’re being paid, Beth. You’re welcome. Now get the hell out of my house.”
17
“Maverick, she said she was sorry. You know how she is. She doesn’t like the idea of sharing you with anyone but me.” Suzanna is at my desk, interceding on Jessica’s behalf for her bad behavior at Slate.
I glance down at her stooping by my side with her hair cascading around her shoulders and her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth.
“I’ve told you both before, I’m not yours to share. Either of you.”
Suzanna flinches and I pull my arm away from her just as Beth walks into the room. If I didn’t hate the idea of being married to her as much as I do, I might admit that she looks like a million bucks personified.
Suzanna jumps up and stares at her, trying to hide her shock at the highlights in Beth’s hair.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she hisses. “Did you use a sharpie to get that do
ne?” Jealousy drips like hot honey, coating each word in a mess of envy.
Suzanna takes the seat across from me, marking territory that isn’t hers to mark. In classic Beth fashion, Beth ignores her and glances up at me before looking away. Our earlier argument replays in my head and I roll my eyes at the reality awaiting me.
In the midst of the chatter of seniors waiting for class to begin, the intercom goes off and Beth and I are both summoned to the Dean’s office. She grabs her things and bolts through the door like a fish being returned to water.
Maybe she’s eager to get to the office. Maybe she’s just trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Either way, it’s not much of my concern. I slowly follow behind her, not in much of a hurry to get there.
I stop on the way, swallow a drink of water, have a chat with a few of the guys already gathered in the halls. If you were to say I was dragging my feet, you wouldn’t be wrong. The fact of the matter is, neither Hamm nor Coach give a damn about the time I’m wasting being married to Beth, so who am I to respect their time?
I take a few more unnecessary stops before turning in the direction of the office. Just as lazily as I made my way here is as lazily as I swing the door open.
“Good morning.” I smirk at the secretary at the front desk. Her cheeks tint a little at the sound of my voice. She’s young. Barely old enough to be working here, but too old to still be in school.
“They’re all already inside,” she says, her voice stuttering just a little. I wonder if the same rule about not banging your teachers applies for other members of staff.
“You wanna join us,” I throw over my shoulder. I don’t have to turn around to know that she’s blushing beet red.
If I was in a good mood before, all of that goes to shit the minute I enter the office, walking right into the déjà vu from hell.
Coach, Beth and the Dean are all seated, waiting on the guest of honor to arrive. I take the empty seat beside Coach and glance over at him. I can tell he’s heard the good news. Collin couldn’t keep his yap shut, I imagine.
“I believe congratulations are in order,” Coach smirks.
Beth rolls her eyes and Dean Hamm’s face remains sullen, but I know we’re all thinking about the same thing.
“Does that mean I can start training for the title game now?” I ask matter-of-factly.
“Well, getting married was only the first step,” Dean speaks up, barely looking over at Beth who hasn’t taken her harsh, judgmental eyes off him.
“Yes, I spoke with Collin, there’s quite a bit left to do, but the impromptu wedding was a good place to start.” Coach is shamelessly optimistic despite the heated glares being hurled at him by Dean Hamm. He has no moral high ground in this matter, so I ignore his hypocrisy and focus on what’s important - my prospect of being drafted after graduation.
“I’ve reached out to the folks at Madison and they’re willing to put you back, but only if you meet a few conditions.”
“And we have a few conditions of our own,” Dean Hamm utters with a vengeful look in his eyes.
“Conditions? Are you kidding me? How much more do you people want from me? I’ve already married the hag. That should be enough.”
Dean Hamm jumps out of his seat and crosses the room. He’s standing before me in seconds. For a moment, it looks like he’s about to knock my jaw out of place, lucky for him – and for me – he seems to decide against it. Instead, he leans forward, his long nose jutting out into my face as he sneers. “Let us get one thing straight. I am not pleased with this charade. Tread very carefully or I’ll pull the plug on your whole career.”
“Umm...excuse me?” Beth shrieks and I’m surprised at her defensive tone. “Nobody will be pulling any plugs on anything. Tell him what he needs to do, and he’ll do it.”
“You don’t speak for me!” I bark at her effrontery.
“You’re right. I don’t speak for you. I speak for myself and if your plugs get pulled so do mine and this entire gingerbread house will come crumbling down. If that can happen to you without affecting me then sure, lights out. But I highly doubt it won’t affect me, so nobody will be doing any plug pulling. Thank you very much.”
When the heck did this become about her?
Dean leans against his desk and looks over at her. “Has he hurt you?”
We both scoff at his ridiculous question, though I imagine the reasons are not the same.
“No more than usual.” Her face contorts into the embodiment of disgust before she folds her arms across her chest and casts a sideways glance at me.
Dean walks back to his boring black chair and fixes his bright pink tie. I’m pretty sure his wife made him wear that. Beth will never have that chance, not with me, anyway.
“What are the conditions?” I ask through gritted teeth and lean back to hear the new creative ways these morons have come up with to ruin my life.
“The recruiters want to know that you’ve at the very least been conditionally approved for the green card before they make any final decisions about taking a serious interest in you. And…more importantly, that you’re getting your shit together,” Dean starts, and I nod.
“You can’t have any charges brought against you between now and graduation. Not convictions, Maverick… charges.” Coach continues, “Unless they’re proven to be false charges, in which case, they don’t count.”
That one may be a bit of a challenge.
“You have to pass the fitness test by their standards and you have to score at least five goals in the next game.”
“You’re kidding.” I stare at Coach’s shiny forehead then down into his beady eyes.
“And for my condition,” Dean smirks and something inside me tells me I’m about to hate his condition even more.
“You can’t be seen or thought to be, kissing, touching, fucking anyone other than Beth while you’re married to her.”
‘Fucking.’ Seriously. Is he even allowed to use that word to a student? “Same goes for you, Beth,” he tacks on.
Her jaw falls open and her eyes grow bigger in her small face as she tries to wrap her mind around all the nonsense coming out of the Dean’s mouth.
I, on the other hand, have no time for subtleties.
“Hell, no!”
“Fidelity is the illusion we’re going for here,” Dean says condescendingly, and I want to jump up on his desk and roundhouse punch him in the face. “This is a very serious phase you’re both about to enter. Now that we’re applying for an extension and the green card, all eyes will be on you,” Dean says.
“Also, if you’re going to be moved to the list for State, we’re going to need you in top form at all times both in work outs and out,” Coach tacks on. “The interviewers for the green card will want to speak with loved ones and see your place and all that other invasive stuff. Between that and keeping him in check for the upcoming games, Beth, you may want to consider relocating temporarily.”
I glance over at Beth in time to see her wipe a tear from her eye. We had spoken about this briefly before, but now it’s being made an actual condition. I should be the one crying.
“It’s so funny,” she chuckles sadly, “he kicked me out of his place just this morning. Karma, I guess.”
She turns to look at me and I scowl at her. How the hell has this become my life? So many talentless hacks run around getting exactly what they want rather than what they deserve. And here I am, with all the talent, reaping shit for rewards.
“Oh you’ve been there?” Dean asks, his voice a bit higher than usual.
“Your star player here got wasted last night and called me to-”
“Shut up,” I snap at her, annoyed by her incessant need to complain. Fucking tattletale. Seriously.
“Eat a dick, Maverick. You left me sleeping on the floor,” she retorts, and I laugh.
“I could have had security throw you out. You’re welcome.”
Dean Hamm’s nostrils flare and his knuckles seem more distinct behind his
paper-thin skin when he clenches his fist as his face reddens. In the meanwhile, Coach Willis has a look of wide-eyed shock on his face.
“You idiot.” Coach’s heavy hand comes down with reverberating sound effects on the back of my neck.
“Coach!” I shout, rubbing the assaulted area.
“Did anyone see her?”
“Sky,” Beth offers, and I roll my eyes at the lunacy.
“The Sky saw you? Really? You’re such a douche.”
“No moron, Sky, your cleaning lady,” she snaps back.
Why the hell would I know that?
If she hadn’t been busy chatting up the help, neither of them would have been there when I woke up, which frankly, is how I prefer my mornings.
“Jesus Maverick. Have at least a little common sense.”
I glare at Coach. “Whatever. Can we go now?”
Dean Hamm shakes his head disapprovingly at me, but waves me away like a bothersome fly, but Coach’s heavy hand on my shoulder stops me.
“I expect to see you at all training sessions from here on out. You should never come to my training hungover or drunk. I want to see no more videos of you making a fool of yourself. I want to hear no more news of you terrorizing Beth… and Maverick - “ He leans in closer to me, his nose just inches away from mine, his grey eyes hardening as he stares into my face. “If I so much as hear that you’re dating anyone else, you’re out.”
“What about the crazies that will say we’re dating even if we aren’t?”
“You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Dean Hamm says as though he were speaking to the scoundrel who stole his last dollar.
“You need to be on the ice today.”
As coach demanded, I’m at training, sober, on time, and ready to do the only damn thing that brings me a modicum of happiness. Through my helmet, I can hear Jared’s nasal voice somewhere in the rink complaining about the changes in the line-up before I even push the shocking orange double doors open to enter the hockey stadium.
Vile Intentions: A Dark Sports Bully Romance Page 9
