After brushing my teeth and taking my makeup off, it’s after midnight. I check my phone one more time before plugging it in to see if Bryant has texted.
Nothing.
Me: Hey. I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to turn in. I hope you’re okay. I’ll see you in the morning?
I plug it in and set it next to me on the nightstand.
REACHING MY HAND up to my face, I scratch at the tickle on my nose.
Giggle.
I don’t open my eyes because I know this game. It’s been a long time since she’s done it, but it used to be her way of waking me up.
The tickle to my nose is back, and I once again scratch at it, this time letting out a small snort.
Giggle.
When the third tickle hits my nose, I grab her arm quickly and pull her to me, tickling her sides and laughing loudly.
“Mama!” she squeals, followed by the belly laughs I love so much.
“When are you gonna learn I always win this game?”
She laughs with abandon, and I love when our mornings start out this way. Tickles and hugs.
Knowing I don’t have many years left of this before she’s a teenager and it’s not a cool thing to do anymore, I soak in every minute.
We talk about the game, and Gracie asks if Bryant’s arm is going to be okay. I explain to her what a dislocation is and how the doctor had to put it back in, and she scrunches up her face in the cute way she does.
“Can we have breakfast? I’m starving,” she asks as her tummy growls loudly, causing us both to laugh.
“Yeah, baby. Let me throw my hair up and brush my teeth and we’ll run to the café downstairs and get something. Put some clothes on and brush your hair.”
She bounces off the bed and heads for the dresser where her clothes are.
Unplugging my phone, I take it into the bathroom with me. I’m becoming a little concerned about the fact that he still hasn’t texted me back yet. I hope he’s okay.
I put my hair up, throw on a pair of jeans and a bra, and head out to the living room where Gracie has thrown herself onto the couch for cartoons. Looking toward the door between our rooms, I decide to peek in on him and see if he’s okay.
When I twist the knob, I’m surprised to find it locked. He hasn’t locked his side of the door the whole time we’ve been here.
I tap the door lightly, not wanting to wake him if he’s still asleep. It’s only a little after eight in the morning, and I know he was up late last night. When my tapping gets no response, I chalk it up to his late night.
“Come on, Gracie. Let’s go eat,” I holler in the direction of the living room.
Gracie bounces over to me, ready for pancakes and bacon.
Breakfast is amazing, and I grab a breakfast burrito and coffee for Bryant. Even if he’s still asleep, I’ll hold onto it until he wakes up. He can always pop it in the microwave and reheat it.
Gracie is chattering a million miles a minute about how excited she is to fly on a plane again tomorrow and to be able to tell all her friends about how much fun she had at the World Series. When the elevator stops and we step out onto our floor, Gracie is still listing off all the fun things she’s done here when she stops walking. When I turn my attention to her, I find her face scrunched up in disapproval, looking past me down the hall.
What I find makes a knot form in my stomach.
There is a woman standing in the hallway, right in front of Bryant’s open door. She has her shoes in her hand, her hair is a mess and she’s talking to someone inside the room. I assume it’s Bryant because that’s his room, but I can’t see him.
“I told you I saw Abbie’s mom,” Gracie says as she starts walking again.
Holy shit. It is her. What the hell is she doing here?
As we get closer, I hear Bryant’s gruff morning voice. “I don’t know, but you need to go.”
She must hear us coming down the hall because her attention turns to me and, oddly, she doesn’t look surprised to see me. She smirks, says something to Bryant, and walks toward us, the door closes at her departure.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. Everything about this woman makes me want to rip her fake hair out.
“Visiting a friend,” she replies with another smirk, before walking past us and continuing down the hall.
As I watch her walk away, it dawns on me she is the woman I saw Conor talking to at the field last night. The one Bryant did not look happy to see. The one who was wearing that same dress. Last night. I watch her walk away, her walk of shame apparent.
What the hell is going on?
Did she just leave Bryant’s room?
My heart is beating a mile a minute when I open our door. I usher Gracie inside and shut it quietly behind us. I get her settled in front of the TV with cartoons and make my way into the bathroom for a minute to myself.
Did I really just witness that heinous bitch leaving Bryant’s room after he hadn’t responded to any of my texts since last night? Is she why he hadn’t responded?
How does he even know her?
I need to think about how to handle this. I could act like I didn’t see anything and see how he acts today, if I even see him. Looking at my phone, I realize he’s still radio silent and I know he’s awake.
I could go bang on his door and ask him what the hell is going on, but I don’t want to deal with this in front of Gracie.
I could call another hotel and go there until we can get a flight home, and in the back of my mind, that’s exactly what I want to do.
Run.
Because I don’t want to hear him tell me he’d been wrong and isn’t ready for a relationship. I mean, we aren’t in a relationship. We’re dating, so maybe I read more into what was going on between us than there really was. Maybe his idea of dating is non-committal. Probably something we should have discussed before I put my heart into this.
I guess I trusted that when he said he wanted to date me that he meant he wouldn’t be bringing girls back to his room, especially not with me right next door.
Maybe I’m the fool here.
I shout to Gracie that I’m going to jump in the shower and not to open the door for anyone. Mandy has a key so she can get in on her own.
The hot water on my skin is cathartic. I let it wash the tension out of my neck and shoulders before washing my hair and body. I take my time, knowing once I leave this bathroom, I have to find out what is going on.
As the water shuts off, I hear my phone chime. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the shower and grab a towel. I also take my time drying off and wrapping one towel around my hair and one around my body. My phone chimes again, signaling another text.
Deep breath.
Pulling the phone off the vanity, I open the texts.
The first one is from Mandy.
Mandy: I’m grabbing breakfast and then heading back to our room. Do you or Little Bit want anything?
Me: We already ate. Thanks though. :)
The other is from Bryant.
Bryant: Good morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?
Maybe I can get a little info out of him before I have to face him. I know it’s a chickenshit move doing this over text, but I’m giving him a chance to explain.
Me: Fine. How’s the shoulder?
Bryant: Sore as hell. Stanley was kind enough to pour me into my bed last night after the doc gave me a pain killer that would knock out an elephant.
Me: What time did you get in last night?
Bryant: Can I come over? Texting you seems stupid when you’re right next door.
Gracie probably shouldn’t be witness to this discussion.
Me: I’ll come to you when Mandy gets here. We need to talk.
Bryant: Ooooookay. What’s wrong?
Me: We’ll talk when I get there.
Setting the phone down, I get dressed, dry my hair a little bit, and throw it up in a bun. I almost forego makeup all together, but I’m feeling a little bit self-conscious about the conversation w
e’re about to have, so I put some on to boost my confidence a little.
When I walk out into the living room, I’m greeted by a very “morning after” looking Mandy. Her hair looks like a rat’s nest and she’s got mascara running down one side of her face. Jesus, she looks like a hot mess. She’s also sitting on the floor in front of the TV, shoveling donut holes in her mouth like she’s starving to death.
When she sees me, her face breaks out into a big smile.
“Dude, did you even look in the mirror before you went downstairs to get those donuts?” I ask her with a cocked eyebrow.
She shakes her head no and continues to shove more donuts into her mouth.
“You’re a damn mess, girl.” I laugh out. Gracie laughs and runs her hand over Mandy’s hair to make it lay down a little, but it doesn’t work and it makes Gracie laugh more.
“I’m gonna get my brush for you, Aunt Mandy,” Gracie yells as she hops up and runs off to our room.
“Hey, I’m gonna run over and talk to Bryant. Can you watch her for a few minutes?” I ask her quickly.
“A little morning nookie for the broken hero, huh?”
“Hardly. I’m pretty sure I saw a woman leaving his room this morning,” I begin. “And get this, it was freaking Worthington’s ex-wife. You know, Garrett’s partner.”
“Why the hell would she be here?”
“No clue. But I’m going to find out what the hell is going on.”
Mandy’s face takes on a serious mask. “Let me know if I need to go in there and rip his nuts off.”
Gracie struts back in carrying her brush and proceeds to try to rake it through the mess that is Mandy’s hair.
“I’ll be back in a few,” I tell them, neither paying attention to me over Mandy’s complaints of being bald soon.
I take a deep breath before knocking on our interior door, waiting for Bryant to answer. When I hear the bolt unlock, and he appears in front of me looking like hell warmed over, my heart drops a little.
How the hell would he even hook up with someone in this state? His arm and shoulder are wrapped in some sort of sling, which basically holds it against his body and wraps around his entire upper body.
“Come in,” he says awkwardly.
I take only a few steps in when he blurts out, “Are you mad about the article?”
When I find his face a mask of concern, I’m a little confused.
“What article?”
He regards me for a minute before responding again. “If it’s not the article, what’s wrong?”
“Tell me about the article first.”
He walks over to the end table and picks up the newspaper sitting there before returning to me and holding it out for me to take.
Front page of the paper is the announcement that the Smoke won the World Series with a big picture of the celebration on the field when the team had Bryant up on their shoulders. Why would I be upset about this?
Further down the page, there is a picture of Bryant kissing me on the field right before I left after the game. Under the picture is a paragraph, and tears come to my eyes as I read the words.
“After the game, Bryant “Slam” Nash was seen kissing his girlfriend, Layne Scott, who owns a sports bar in Colorado. Minutes later, Nash announced he would be retiring from baseball and has taken a job coaching at St. Marten’s High School in Denver.”
Wait, what?
“I was going to tell you last night but, like I said, Dr. Kaimal gave me a painkiller that knocked me on my butt and I had to have Stanley babysit me back to the hotel.”
I take a step back from him, his scent clouding my thoughts.
“Let me explain before you get upset,” he stammers out, causing my hand to fly up to stop him.
“Wait a minute,” I blurt. “You’re not going to coach for the Smoke?”
He shakes his head and takes a step to me.
“Why would you give up the opportunity to coach for the Smoke?” I whisper.
When he steps toward me, my first instinct is to step back from him. I still don’t know what the hell she was doing in his room. But why would he give up coaching for an MLB team to coach at a small private high school?
He reaches his good arm out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to him, pressing his lips gently to mine before lifting his hand to my face and cupping my cheek.
“We’ll talk about all of this later,” he starts. “Now tell me why you’re upset if it isn’t about the article.”
I look into his eyes for something that might show me guilt, but find nothing of the sort.
Taking a step away from him, I lean back against the arm of the couch and look up at him.
“Gracie and I went down to get breakfast this morning,” I begin. He raises an eyebrow when I pause, so I keep going.
“As we were coming back to the room, we saw a woman in the hallway, looking disheveled,” I continue, still no recognition on his face.
“Disheveled, as in, walk-of-shame style,” I blurt out. His eyes squint for a minute like he’s thinking about it. When his eyes widen for a split second, my heart drops.
“Wait,” he booms, holding up his good hand. “Did this woman happen to have on a red dress, holding a pair of dirty-ass hooker shoes and look like she crawled out of an alleyway?”
He does not look happy.
“That’d be her,” I croak out. “And she looked like she was leaving your room.”
Bryant
AS SOON AS the words leave her mouth, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. Does she really think I’d do that? I’m not that kind of guy and I thought she knew that. I’ve always been completely upfront with her.
“I can’t believe you’d think I’d sleep with that woman,” I bite out.
She won’t look at me, but she’s shaking her head from side to side like she’s in denial.
“I didn’t say I thought that,” she blurts, before pausing. “But you have to admit that seeing her walking away from your room this morning, looking like she’d been ridden hard and put up wet, with her shoes in her hand, seemed a little sketchy.”
“So you assumed I’m the type of guy who would do that? With a fucked-up shoulder no less,” I bellow.
Even I cringe at my tone and the loudness of my voice.
“I don’t know what to think,” she replies, her voice unsure.
“For your information, she must’ve knocked on my door right before you saw her because I only spoke to her for a minute. She asked if she could come in to talk and I told her no. Then she asked when I was going back to Colorado and I told her I didn’t know and that she needed to leave, so she did. End of story.”
She’s about to respond when the interior door to her room opens slightly and Mandy sticks her head through it.
“Sorry to interrupt your little love fest in here,” she starts, looking really uncomfortable. “But Isaac is here and said he needs to speak to you both immediately.”
I look at Layne and watch as a myriad of emotion flits across her face.
“Who the hell is Isaac?” I growl.
“Shit,” Layne whispers before turning to me. “I need to explain something to you before we go in and talk to him.”
I hold my hand up, stopping her from going further.
“Why don’t we let Isaac explain?” I storm past her into her room to find a very large man in a suit standing in her room.
“What do you want?” I growl.
Mandy quickly grabs Gracie’s hand and walks with her to the front door. “We’re going to go for a walk and get some fresh air,” Mandy blurts before disappearing out the door.
Isaac regards me, eyebrow raised, before turning his attention to Layne, who must’ve walked in behind me.
“Have you told him yet?”
She shakes her head, her face a mask of irritation. “I was going to tell him today.”
“Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on.”
She looks frozen in place. Isaac must notice her ala
rm because he doesn’t wait for her to explain.
“A man came to Ms. Scott’s room a few nights ago, claiming to be your agent and requesting to come into her room to discuss your relationship with her. When she told him she wouldn’t talk to him until she’d spoken to you first, and went to shut the door, he tried to force his way into her room. She was able to slam the door before he could push his way in. Security looked into the matter and found out a housekeeper had taken a bribe to get her room number. The man already knew she was staying here and that she was your guest.”
I swing my attention back to Layne, anger like I’ve never felt before running through my veins.
“How could you not tell me about this?”
She doesn’t even miss a beat before answering. “Because you needed to be focused. You didn’t need any ‘distractions,’” she barks out, her anger clear.
And there we have it.
She’d kept secret about a man almost breaking into her room, with her and Gracie here, because she didn’t want to distract me.
Because that’s what I’d told her, right? Initially. That I didn’t need any distractions.
I’m not sure if it’s possible for me to feel like a bigger piece of shit.
I take a step in her direction and watch as a plethora of emotions cross her face. I watch as a lone tear runs down her cheek. Lifting my hand, I rub my thumb over the tear to wipe it away, her eyes never leaving mine.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I never meant to make you feel like you couldn’t tell me something like this.” Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss to her lips before turning back to Isaac.
“So what’s so important you needed to talk to us right now?”
“We have new information. I’ve spent a few days reviewing security footage from the hallways on this floor.”
The first night Layne was here, when I mauled her by the ice machine, runs through my head. I bet that was hot to watch. He must know what I’m thinking about because he smirks before continuing.
“A man who appears to be the same guy that tried to force his way into Ms. Scott’s room and a woman are seen several times around both of your doors in the past few days.”
Slam: A Colorado Smoke Novel Page 23
