Play My Game: A 100 Series Standalone Romance

by Lara Adrian

  “I’m sorry,” Jared says, his voice as grim as his expression. “That’s no way for anyone to grow up.”

  “Jen got the brunt of his rage because she was so similar to him. She had his lightning temper, the same habit of lashing out when she felt attacked. She was rebellious, too. That only escalated the conflicts between them, which meant all of us suffered for it.”

  “How did you manage to turn out so normal? Hell, better than normal.”

  I shrug, brushing off his assessment with a downward glance and a shake of my head. “I don’t know about that. All I ever wanted was to hold the pieces of my family together, whatever it took. If that meant tutoring my middle school classmates for a few dollars each week in order to help put food on our table when Mom’s small paychecks didn’t stretch far enough, that’s what I did. If I had to put myself at the striking end of my father’s fists so he didn’t end up killing Jen during their fights, I weathered the blows before my mother had the chance to step in and get hurt, too.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Jared reaches out to me, gently stroking my cheek as if he can see the bruises that used to ride there after my father’s manic rages. His thumb traces my jawline, his dark eyes smoldering with a combination of outrage and tender concern. “I’ve never met anyone as courageous and strong as you are. No one, Melanie.”

  I haven’t told him the worst of it. No one knows that ugly truth except my mom, the only person alive who endured it along with me.

  His compassion right now is almost too much for me to bear. I turn my face away from the comfort of his caress. I don’t want to crumble against him, no matter how tempting it might be to take the couple of steps that would move me into his arms.

  “Where is your father now?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his low voice. “How did you finally get away from him?”

  “He was killed in a car accident when I was thirteen.”

  “Driving drunk, I assume.”

  “No. Ironically, I don’t think he’d had anything to drink that night. He was having one of his manic episodes. He started driving erratically, shouting and swearing over nothing. Speeding like a man possessed as we approached the bridge on the freeway.”

  Jared’s brows furrow. “You were in the vehicle with him?”

  “We all were. Mom, Jen, and me.”

  “What happened?”

  “We had been at one of my school events, driving home from a regional science fair on Long Island. It was dark and raining that night. Dad was in a mood after hearing he’d been laid off again. He started railing about everything—the gas it took to take me to the event, the storm outside, the injustice of life in general. Mom asked him to slow down, to stop shouting because he was scaring all of us, but he couldn’t be reasoned with. There was a wildness in his eyes I’d never seen before, a cold resignation. I saw it when he glanced at me in the rearview mirror in those last few seconds before the crash.”

  I see it now, too. I close my eyes, but I can’t erase the sight of his bleak stare in that narrow piece of glass. I shudder with the chill of it, even now.

  Jared’s fingers brush lightly under my chin, coaxing me to look at him. “Tell me what he did.”

  “He didn’t slow down. His eyes were still glued on mine in the mirror when he jerked the steering wheel to the right and hit the gas even harder on the bridge. Another car in the lane beside us clipped our rear bumper and sent us into a spin. It slowed our car down enough so that we only smashed into the guardrail instead of going over it as I’m sure my father intended.”

  Jared grinds out a curse, his handsome face tight with fury. “That son of a bitch. He couldn’t handle his own problems, so he was going to kill you all?”

  I nod, because as stark and horrific as the statement is, it’s the truth.

  “He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt,” I explain, my voice quiet. “The impact threw him from the car. He died on the scene. Mom and Jen and I all spent time in the hospital with varying injuries, but we survived.”

  Jared nods soberly. “That scar under your arm. This is the accident you told me was no big deal.”

  I can’t pretend the crash—and my father’s cold actions—were anything less than life-altering. Not with this man. His gaze has had the power to look inside me from the very beginning. Even if I tried to hide this pain from him now, I couldn’t.

  And I don’t want to.

  I realize it with a clarity that shocks me.

  “There are times, even now, when I wake up in the dark bathed in a cold sweat and dreaming that I’m still in that car. I’m twenty-five years old, yet I go to bed sometimes afraid to shut my eyes because I know I’m going to see my father’s dead stare looking back at me.”

  On a groan, Jared gathers me close. “I’ve been an asshole with you this whole time, Melanie. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for what happened a few days ago, too.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” He draws me away, scowling. “I had no idea what you’ve been through, or I never would’ve—”

  He breaks off on a low curse and shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “You never would have what?”

  He gives a tight shake of his head. “If I’d known, I never would’ve started any of this with you. Not the painting, not the contract I made you sign. I sure as hell never would’ve allowed myself to get half-drunk and then force myself on you the way I did out at the studio.”

  I can see the torment in his face, the remorse. “I don’t like the fact that you drink as much as you do,” I admit to him. “If you have problems, Jared, you need to find a better way to deal with them.”

  “I know,” he answers tightly. “Fuck, I know that.”

  “As for the rest of it, you don’t have to apologize.”

  “Yes, I do—”

  I silence him by going up on my toes and brushing my lips against his. His beard-shadowed jaw feels like rigid granite under my palm as I draw back from him. His eyes burn into me, hot with desire. The tender comfort he showed me a moment ago has shifted into a desire I can feel in the heavy throb of his heartbeat, and in the hard length of his erection pressing into my abdomen.

  “You don’t have to apologize, because you didn’t force anything on me, Jared. Not that day out at the studio. Not anytime we’ve been together. I entered into this with my eyes open. I wanted you, too.”

  “You shouldn’t.” His scowl darkens. “I’m not the kind of man you should admit that to, either. Especially not when the only thing preventing me from acting on it is the fact that there’s a little girl sleeping just above our heads.”

  Katie’s the only thing that would keep me out of Jared’s arms right now, too.

  It’s a slim tether to cling to, one he seems to be grappling with as much as I am. “I should go, before I prove I’m any more of a bastard.”

  An electric silence simmers between us for a long moment, only to be broken by my phone’s chime sounding from in the kitchen. “I have to answer that. It could be the hospital.”

  He nods, but doesn’t follow me into the kitchen while I run to take the call. It’s not the hospital’s number on the screen. It’s Eve.

  “Hey,” I answer, a bit breathlessly. “What’s going on? Aren’t you supposed to be in your client meeting?”

  “I’m just heading into it,” she says. “Don’t hate Gabe, but he literally just told me that he ran into Jared Rush at the Baine offices today. Apparently, Jared’s really concerned about you and was going to look for you at the hospital. Gabe told him where you were, Mel. I hope you’re not mad.”

  “I’m not. And he did—find me at the hospital, that is.”

  “Oh, my God. Is he there now?”

  “No. We’re at my house. He brought Katie and me home a while ago. She’s taking a nap, so now we’re . . . talking.”

  “Uh, huh,” Eve says, and I can practically hear the wheels of her mind turning. “You and Jared. At your house. Talking.”

  �
�Yes.” I glance over my shoulder to peer toward the living room, but I don’t see him. “Can I call you back later?”

  She laughs. “Girl, you’d better call me. I want to know everything.”

  I murmur a quick goodbye, then drop the phone into my purse. When I walk back into the living room, I find it empty.

  The front door has been unlocked, then closed silently behind him while I was talking to my friend. I look out the curtain of the front window just in time to hear his car rumble to life in the driveway.

  He backs out onto the street, then he’s gone.

  22

  MELANIE

  “Katie, time for breakfast,” I tell my niece, popping my head into her bedroom while I wind my hair into a bun and fasten it with an elastic band I pull out of the skirt pocket of my diner uniform. “Brush your teeth and come down to eat before I have to leave for work, please.”

  “Okay, Aunt Mellie.”

  I can hear my mom rummaging in the kitchen downstairs while a commercial plays on the TV in the living room. She came home from the hospital two mornings ago, feeling healthier than she had in months. Of course, her renewed energy only makes her harder to manage. She’s always had an independent streak, and I suppose I don’t have to look far to guess where I get my stubbornness.

  I find her in her peach bathrobe and pajamas, bent over in front of the open refrigerator door and reaching in to retrieve an unopened gallon of milk from the back of the shelf.

  “Mom, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Her voice is muffled from halfway inside the appliance. “I’m getting Katie’s cereal ready for her.”

  “Your doctor said no lifting or straining for at least a week.” I move around her and take the carton out of her hands. “What did you do with the packet of instructions he sent home with you?”

  She gives me a mildly exasperated look. “It’s on the end table with my reading glasses in the living room.”

  I frown, but it’s hard to be upset with her when she’s staring at me with clear, bright eyes and a healthy pink glow in her cheeks. I consider it my personal responsibility to ensure she stays as healthy as she looks now. “If you’re uncertain about what you can or can’t do while I’m gone today, promise me you’ll follow your doctor’s orders.”

  She sighs. “I’ve already promised you I would, honey.”

  Yes, she did, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for me to leave you and Katie alone so soon.”

  “Melanie, I’m sixty-two years old. I’ll be fine. Besides, Katie and I have our day all planned out. We’re going to color and play some board games, then we’re going to make sugar cookies this afternoon.”

  I arch my brows at her. “I must have missed the page that listed sugar cookies as part of your new heart healthy diet plan from the hospital.”

  “Don’t worry, they’re not for me. Katie wanted to bake today, and I thought it would be fun if we did something we could decorate together.”

  “All right,” I relent, feeling a bit better about the situation.

  I’d much rather stay home with them, but at least the diner is closeby. Ordinarily, I’d be heading into the city to my part-time accounting job, but after Mom came home I quit the dentist’s office in order to pick up extra shifts at the diner.

  God knows, we’re going to need the money. I don’t even want to imagine the size of the medical bill that will be coming soon. My stomach bottoms out just thinking about it.

  I can’t deny how much I could use the money Jared was going to pay me for posing for him, but that’s obviously off the table now. Even though I had decided not to go through with the arrangement after that first day at his studio, Jared’s disappearing act two days ago here at my house and the radio silence that’s followed has made it clear to me that he has no desire to continue with the painting, either.

  When it comes to me, evidently, he has no desire for anything.

  I felt foolish enough in the minutes after he left. Two days later, I feel like an epic idiot for letting myself believe there was something more than just the attraction that had been burning between us. I shared a piece of my soul with him that day. I told him things only my closest friends know because I thought he might be the one man who could understand.

  I thought he might have cared about me, even a little.

  Instead, what he apparently felt for me was pity.

  And regret.

  I can still see the uncomfortable look on his face, the way he retreated from me physically and emotionally after I told him how my own father had such little regard for me and the rest of his family he attempted to kill us all.

  Jared’s words come back to me, replaying on the same endless loop that’s been running since I watched his car vanish up the street.

  “If I’d known, I never would’ve started any of this with you.”

  Now he knows, he’s gone.

  And I’m left feeling like a ridiculous joke.

  I thought Jared had been struggling against his desire for me after I kissed him and nearly threw myself at him in my living room. Instead, he was no doubt just waiting for his chance to break away and make his escape.

  Since rehashing any of what happened between us is a colossal waste of time, I pour myself a cup of coffee and rally my thoughts back to reality and things I can control.

  Or try to control, that is.

  I frown when my gaze catches on the piece of paper tucked inside the mystery novel Mom’s been reading. Slipped between the pages as a makeshift bookmark is the medicine log I printed for her.

  I take it out and unfold it. “Mom, did you take your aspirin and other morning meds yet?”

  “Yes, honey. I took them with my oatmeal and tea about a half hour ago.”

  I wave the blank page at her. “You didn’t mark it off on the chart. You do know that’s the whole point of keeping a log, right?”

  “Rules, rules, rules,” she says, as I set the paper down in front of her at the table.

  As if I don’t have enough to deal with in the handful of minutes before I have to leave for the diner, the front doorbell rings. Setting my coffee on the kitchen counter, I walk through the living room to see who it is. I open the door and find a middle-aged woman dressed in pink hospital scrubs standing on the stoop.

  She glances down to check the clipboard she holds in her hand before greeting me with warm brown eyes and a pleasant smile. “Good morning. I’m Rosa Cortez. I’m here to see Elaine Laurent.”

  “Elaine’s my mother. I’m Melanie. Can I help you?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her kind eyes flick down to the clipboard again and she nods. “I haven’t arrived too early?”

  “Too early for what?”

  She gives me a confused look. “I’m your mother’s home healthcare provider. I’ll be coming here to take care of her for the next four weeks.”

  “I don’t understand. No one at the hospital mentioned this to me.”

  “We’re a private service,” she says, cheerfully unfastening the work order from her clipboard and handing it to me along with her ID and credentials from what I recognize as the premier in-home nursing firm in the area. According to the document, Rosa has been contracted to provide hands-on care for my mom in our home from nine-to-five every weekday for a full month. Medicines. Meals. Bloodwork. Errands.

  The list is extensive. And, I’m sure, very expensive.

  “I didn’t order this.” I shake my head and try to push the paper back at her before I’m tempted to dream I could even begin to afford it. I’ll be working for the next twenty years just to pay off Mom’s hospital stay, never mind something like this. “I’m sorry, Rosa. You seem very nice, but there must be some kind of mistake. I can’t pay for this kind of service.”

  “Oh, no, miss. It’s all been taken care of already. The contract’s prepaid.”

  I frown. “Prepaid? By who?”

  She gestures for me to flip the page over. I scan down to the b
ottom of it and my gaze settles on the bold, aggressive scrawl of Jared’s signature.

  Rosa begins explaining more about the services she provides, but I’m only half-listening. As appreciative as I am for the idea of some much-needed help, I don’t want his charity. I sure as hell don’t want Jared’s pity. Especially when it’s coming on the heels of two days of nothing but silence and avoidance after I told him about my pathetic past.

  Suddenly, the idea that I confided in him about that makes me feel even more foolish and humiliated than the fact that I blurted out how much I wanted him.

  I’m mortified. I’m angry, too.

  More than angry, I’m pissed as hell.

  As much as I’d like to turn Jared’s gift away, the sad fact is I do need the help. My mom needs the help, no matter what she’d like me to believe.

  I force a smile for the kind healthcare worker and hold open the door for her. “Please come in, Rosa.”

  I’m still fuming as I make quick introductions and provide the nurse with my phone number in case she needs to reach me while I’m gone. A few minutes later, I’m out the door.

  I’m not going in to the diner, though.

  After calling in to make my excuses, I head for the subway that will take me into the city.

  23

  JARED

  “Here’s the paperwork you requested, Jared.”

  Nate sets the file folder down on the desk in my study, placing it on top of a small stack of other documents that have been awaiting my attention for the past hour.

  “We’ve already got a protective order in place for Alyssa, and I’m pulling a few strings to get the restraining order pushed through as quickly as possible,” he says. “At least she’ll have some legal remedies if her ex-boyfriend attempts to harm her or sic any of his thugs on her in retaliation for her helping the police arrest him for the break-in at the rec center.”

  “Thanks, Nate.”

  I flip through the pages of court documents and attached evidence Alyssa has provided. Printed photos of bruises, abrasions, and blackened eyes she’s suffered over time at Traynor’s hands. Text messages full of vitriol and demeaning insults. Demands for her to get rid of the child she’s carrying or face the consequences of Traynor’s wrath.