I shouldn’t be here, at this Seattle club, but I didn’t have to report for work at River Salado until Monday. I ticked through my options: Did I want to buy out the rest of my contract to pursue Preslee here? I asked for another meeting with the Timber management, this time without Noah’s knowledge. Jorge would be there at my side, just as he’d always been. I knew he’d put in a good word for me with the owner.
In any organization I played for, I ensured a healthy working relationship with the coaching staff—this time Jorge and I already had a great working relationship. He wanted me to stay on as a coach. Preferably, the head one. Jorge’s expertise made him a wonderful offensive coordinator, but he lacked the English vocabulary and the charisma for the head coach interviews.
My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. It’d be more of the same from the Timber PR specialist: Your terse statement regarding your relationship with Preslee Jennings did not stem speculation. We have a serious media issue we must address. The ones from my mother were much less expected though just as annoying. Come home, Matteo. Your father’s heart broke with your latest media disaster.
I scrubbed my hands over my eyes and into my hair. Since I boarded that airplane for New York, for those games over a week ago, my life spun out of control.
Pres deserved tonight’s adulation, especially now that she didn’t need to continue to fear Oren. I rubbed my chest, wishing I could touch her now as she lit up the room with her presence.
She stamped her foot and lifted her chin as she hit a long note. She seared the space, holding the rapt audience captive, her love of singing apparent.
“Why are you here?” Brenna snapped. Preslee, bobbing to the beat, glanced over as she lowered the microphone to her waist. Her eyes widened. I dipped my head and her expression softened a little.
She smiled at the crowd and raised her arm. The crowd roared with approval as she lifted her mic and sang the high notes, trilling in perfect balance to Asher’s deepening base. No wonder Asher wanted her on his next album.
“I bought a ticket.” I couldn’t tear my eyes from Preslee. Her skirt ended mid-thigh, giving the men here an eyeful of her toned, pale perfection.
“She doesn’t want you here. You’re the one who walked out on her.”
I took a sip of the Scotch my waitress handed me, refusing to let this little woman become an even bigger thorn in my side.
Brenna sidled in closer, her body plastered to mine. My muscles contracted hard, refusing the contact. “You’re going to upset her again.”
“Preslee’s life is hers. If you let her live it, she would be much happier.”
Brenna reared back as though I’d slapped her. I might be many things, but I’d been bred from birth to treat women with gallant politeness. Unfortunately, that cost me the only woman I wanted. No, loved. But Brenna didn’t deserve the courtesy she never once showed me.
Preslee segued into a song I remembered hearing her sing in my shower once—a heart-wrenching lament of her lost lover. Each time Pres sang, “Wishing I didn’t know,” my heart sped up, trying to preserve my insides.
My phone buzzed, then immediately again. I pulled it out of my pocket and read the message. I closed my eyes against the message.
“Bad news?” A cruel smile curved Brenna’s lips.
I hated the woman almost as much as I hated the words flashed up on my small screen.
“My father’s taken ill. He’s been hospitalized. That terrible enough for you? I’d ask you to tell Pres why I had to leave, but I know you won’t. Abbi saw me when I came in. She’ll let Pres know.”
Walking out of the venue nearly killed me. I stood in the same room as her for the first time in days, and my body ached with the need to touch her, to run my fingers along the soft skin of her cheek and into the silk of her hair. But once again, my life conspired against me.
28
Preslee
The high from signing—from the screams and adulation—buoyed me, causing me to walk as if on air.
“You were fantastic!” Brenna cried, clasping her hands under her chin.
Singing tonight proved how much I wanted to do it again. But this time, I’d do it for me. For the love of a melody or a specific message. Being in control of my career was as great a high as hitting a crisp B or sinking into a series of triplets, both of which I’d done tonight. Done well.
My smile fell when the dark head I’d been searching for didn’t appear. “Where did Teo go?”
Brenna folded her lips in. “He didn’t say. Exactly.”
“I saw you talking to him, Brenna.”
“He had to leave,” Brenna snapped. “He probably only came for the press. So he doesn’t look like an uncaring ass.”
“The soccer club released a picture of him in at their offices in Buenos Aires yesterday. Why would he show up tonight and leave immediately?”
Abbi bounded over, her hand clutched in Clay’s. I hadn’t seen Abbi’s boyfriend since the barbecue at Lia’s almost two months ago. His band spent most of the past few months touring up and down the West Coast as they prepped for a larger, country-wide tour.
“Where’s Teo?” she asked.
“Let’s get you home and fed. You’re a growing girl.” Brenna suggested, pulling on my arm.
“I’m talking to my family, Bren. Chill.” I turned back to Abbi, who eyed Brenna with something close to concern. Brenna had become even more mother-hen since she found out I was pregnant.
“Why don’t you get me another water?” I suggested, smiling at Brenna to reassure her of my good humor even as, inside, I fumed over her continued hovering.
“What’s her deal?” Clay asked.
“I don’t know. She’s gotten so much worse. She spoke to Teo, and then he disappeared.” I bit on my thumbnail.
Abbi’s expression darkened. “I don’t like that he left. What did she say to him?”
The high of finishing my set so well, of seeing Teo’s proud smile in the audience, faded, leaving behind a dull pounding in my head.
“Seems like a long way to come for a show,” Clay offered. “I mean, the flight from Buenos Aires is, what, twelve, fourteen hours or something?”
I nodded, a frown building between my brows.
Brenna came back, handing me my water, and stopping the flow of conversation.
Clay and Abbi hugged me. “I love hearing you sing,” Abbi said. “You should do it more often.”
I uncapped my water and gulped most of it down. “I think I might.”
“Cool,” Clay exclaimed. “Talk to me about that. We’d love you to sing and play on our album.”
“And Hayden’s been drooling about the idea of a whole record of duets.” Briar hugged me, too. Hayden snuck around my other side and kissed my cheek.
“Don’t talk to anyone else, love. I’ve had dreams of your voice and my piano.”
Briar wrinkled her nose. “That sounds gross.”
“Crikey! Not like that. I just think we’d make a magical duet,” Hayden reiterated, stepping back. “But only for songs.”
“He’s cute flustered,” I said.
Briar nodded. “He is. But what the hell, Hayden? That’s my sister. My preggo sister.”
“I know that, Bri.” He ran his hand up and down the back of his neck, his cheeks darkening. “Fair dinkum. I didn’t mean anything by it, Pres. You know I think of you as a sister.”
“I know you love Briar heaps.”
Hayden smiled, his sun-kissed head bowing low over Briar’s as he kissed her forehead. “That I do. And we’ll make an Aussie out of you yet.”
I laughed but then grimaced at the pain in my side. The bruises faded but weren’t completely gone. My bruised abdomen challenged my ability to sing at full capacity, but the performance turned out fun, exciting even.
I stifled a yawn and saw Abbi do the same. She snuggled in tighter to Clay’s chest.
“We’re out,” Clay said. “Great performance, Preslee. You stole the show.”
He
pulled Abbi toward the door. She turned to wave before they disappeared.
“We’re heading out, too,” Briar said. Hayden leaned down and whispered something in her ear, making her grin as she glanced at him from under her lashes. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Sorry I haven’t been good about answering it. It’s just…” I shrugged. “I’m still getting tons of media calls. I’ve blocked probably twenty numbers now.”
“I understand that all too well,” Briar hugged me and whispered in my ear. “He came to see you.”
I nodded, my throat tightening. I missed him. More than I should.
Brenna brushed my bangs out of my eyes. Just like Teo used to do. I lowered my eyes, not wanting to deal with her reaction to the tears I couldn’t hide.
“How about a bite? My treat.”
“I’m not very hungry. But thanks.”
“You can’t lose any more weight, Pres. You’ve always been thin, but now you’re barely visible straight-on. I swear, I’m going to castrate that man and shove his balls down his throat for hurting you.” Her eyes narrowed as the unholy glint of malice lit up her face. “He’ll rue the day.”
I gripped my stomach as it gurgled, unhappy with the image. “No violence. You know how I feel about that. Who says ‘rue’ anyway? What’s happened to you? Spinster and rue.”
“I signed up for the daily vocabulary word. There are tons of great ones we don’t use regularly.”
“Because they’re not part of a normal person’s vocabulary.”
“Pres…”
“I need to take a shower. I’m sweaty and want to wash the club stuff off me.”
“It’s just that I miss spending time with you.”
I sighed. We walked in silence for almost two full blocks. “If you want us to be close, then there are some things you need to do.”
I stopped and faced her. Her brows were pinched but she nodded.
“First off, you need to stop taking shots at Teo. He’s the father of my baby.”
Her lips tightened. “He hurt you.”
I shrugged. “I hurt myself more by not listening to him.”
She glared, but I held up my hand.
“I’m serious, Brenna. Lay off. Not just on Teo but on trying to run my life. It’s mine. You don’t have to like my decisions, but, as a friend, you should respect them.”
She fumbled until she gripped my hand. “I don’t want to see you upset. I want you to be happy.”
“Then trust me.”
She gazed at my face for a long moment before she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you. Now tell me what he said.”
Brenna dropped my hand and scooted back. When I didn’t back down or speak, she sighed. “Fine. His father’s going into the hospital.”
I clutched my elbows. “Oh, poor Teo.”
“See! This is why I didn’t tell you.”
“I need to call him.”
“You didn’t bring your phone.”
I hadn’t because my phone wasn’t in its charger on the kitchen counter—where I was sure I’d left it earlier that evening. Unfortunately, I’d spent too long on my makeup to look further.
Brenna slid her arm around my waist. “Being upset hurts the baby.”
Instead of answering, I glared, saving my breath.
Brenna shook her head. “You’ve been so moody since you found out you’re pregnant.”
No point in answering—she didn’t care to hear my response anyway.
“I’m starving. If you won’t let me take you out, let’s go up so I can order some Lo Mein.”
“Isn’t work slow?” I asked.
She smiled. “I got a one-off job a couple of weeks ago. It paid well. So, c’mon. It’ll be fun. Like old times. My treat.”
My shoulders slumped. A couple of weeks ago, Teo and I laughed and loved together. I sighed as Brenna ushered me into a café.
“What do you want? Remember, you’re eating for two.”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “You pick. I’m going to the bathroom.”
I chose to ignore Brenna’s crestfallen expression.
The warm water both stung and relaxed my body, making me shiver and moan. I knew I should’ve showered last night. But exhaustion slammed into me as we rode home—one of the strange changes I’d noticed in the last week. There were days I simply couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I woke, worry over Teo’s father’s condition weighing on my mind. I considered flying down to be with Teo, but I kept my mouth shut, unwilling to share my thoughts with Brenna.
I didn’t know when our relationship shifted—maybe while I dated Teo—his words came back to me. Brenna did hate him. She was happier now that we’d split.
Maybe that’s why I no longer considered Brenna my closest confidant.
“Want to eat something?” she asked as soon as I walked out of my room.
“Later.”
“Pres, you have to think about the—”
“Later.” My voice rose as I glared. “Where’s my phone?”
“You said yesterday you left it on the counter,” Brenna said.
It wasn’t there. I continued to look, my agitation increasing.
Brenna stood and brought me a plate of toast.
“Eat.”
I picked up the dry bread and nibbled. I swallowed the bite down with a sip of water.
“I think we should move,” Brenna said.
My mouth dropped open. “What? Why?”
“I think the change would be good for us.”
“For you. You want out of Seattle. You said there were too many programmers here, making it hard to find full-time work.”
“Fine. I want to move. But getting away from these memories is smart. Keep our baby healthy.”
“My baby, Bren. This is my child, my responsibility. No one else’s. Ever.”
Hurt clouded Brenna’s eyes but she nodded. “You’re right. Your baby.”
“Mine and Teo’s. Who I will talk to about our child. As soon as I find my phone.” Gah! Why couldn’t I remember where I’d put it? “I’m not moving. This is where my family is.”
“You want to be near your sisters. I know how much they mean to you. Fine. We’ll stay here and I’ll help at night with the changing and feeding. We’ll get through this together.”
I crumbled the bits of toast between my fingers. Why wouldn’t she see what I was telling her? “That’s not fair to you,” I said, striving to remain diplomatic though irritation caused my voice to rasp. “You deserve to go after your dreams.”
“I’m helping. So just get used to it.” She grabbed my plate and took it to the kitchen. “I’m off to work. Why don’t you meet me for lunch? It’ll be fun! We haven’t done a lunch date in forever. Since, you know, you met him.”
Frustration boiled over, and I slapped my hand against the counter. “Why do you hate Teo so much? I just don’t get it. From the very beginning, you were dead-set against him.”
Her shoulders were stiff and she kept her back to me.
“What aren’t you telling me? You haven’t dated anyone in months. Maybe if you found someone…”
“I don’t want to date right now! I just—” She turned back toward me, her eyes blazing. “Men hurt you. They want to fuck you, then they’re gone. You’re pregnant and alone because of a guy. He wasn’t enough for you. He walked out of that hospital room—and that was the best thing that’s happened. You finally realized you deserve more.”
Brenna picked up her purse. She swiped up her keys from the rack by the door and slammed out of the condo.
I sat there, stunned by her fury. Not just at Teo, but at me, too. Because I deserved more.
He walked out—and that was the best thing that’s happened.
Brenna shutting Teo out of my hospital room after telling him to leave, Brenna throwing away his flowers, not wanting to give me the note. My missing phone.
“You’ve done nothing but
push him away from me.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. The coincidences added up, but, then, I wanted Brenna to be the scapegoat for my broken life. “And I let you do it. Oh. Oh. I let you.”
Then Briar’s words came back to me: How did the media know you were leaving the hospital in the middle of the night? My stomach roiled as I pondered the answer.
I wanted to be wrong; my legs shook as I walked to Brenna’s room. Starting in her closet, I opened every shoebox, her favorite place to stash her important papers. An old boot container held a stash of pictures. All pictures of the two of us, from our first day of first grade up through college graduation. Our arms were wound around each other and we were laughing. The later ones, from high school, showed a different look on Brenna’s face. The look my sisters and Abbi wore when they were in the same space as their men with a need that would never be satiated.
I love you, Pres. How many times had Brenna said that to me? My teeth sank into my lip. Dread ate at my gut.
I opened each of her drawers, threw everything on the floor. I yanked back her sheets, emptied her pillows and eventually dumped the mattress off the bed. Let me be wrong. Because I always hung out with Brenna. My best friend—the one with whom Teo originally thought I was having an affair.
I yanked too hard on her nightstand drawer, and my phone clattered to the floor. She had taken my phone. I clicked it on as I sank to the floor. I clicked on Teo’s number, only to see a notification saying that number was blocked.
Frantic now, I opened my social media accounts. She blocked him there, too. From all my accounts. He had no way to get in touch with me. How long? Was there a way from me to tell how long ago she’d taken away his ability to contact me?
Was that why he came down to see me that night after the hospital? I’d been so hurt he hadn’t called me, texted me—something—but I’d never bothered to think why he hadn’t done so.
My stomach roiled, and I pressed a hand there. I kicked my way out of Brenna’s room, uncaring of the mess I’d made.
Back in the living room, I grabbed my laptop, biting my thumbnail. I changed my password for my laptop and all my social media accounts, making sure to use random combinations I wrote into the note app in my phone—I’d never remember them all—and then changed my phone pass code, my stomach aching with these measures. Next, I reopened all lines of communication with Teo once I was sure Brenna couldn’t sabotage me again. I was about to type out an e-mail when a notification popped up. Brenna was on her social media account now—while she was supposed to be at work.
Striker's Waltz (Seattle Sound Series Book 6) Page 20
