“I was fourteen. His name was Clip Summers.”
“Clip? Sounds like an asshat.”
“He was that,” she said, nodding, the unsettling feeling in her stomach blooming.
She’d lied to Logan, and the words tasted like acid coming out of her mouth.
* * *
Abby had been sitting alone in the restaurant for thirty minutes.
Thirty. Freaking. Minutes.
She reached forward and grabbed her glass of sauvignon blanc and finished it off before she looked over and caught the eye of the waiter. The smile on her mouth was forced as she held the empty glass up in the air. He nodded to her before he headed to the bar.
She did not want to be here. Not in any way, shape, or form. Not at this table. Not at this restaurant. Not in this city.
The Stampede were in the middle of a weeklong stint of games on the road. Their current location: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Abby was not a fan of the city. Actually, that was a bit of an understatement.
She hated Pittsburgh, had for the last nineteen years. It wasn’t the city’s fault that her feelings were far less than positive. The city had done nothing to offend her… except for the fact that it was where her father lived.
When she was younger she’d been naive with her visits to her father, thinking that her time here would involve the two of them doing things together.
She’d been wrong.
So. Damn. Wrong.
She’d done more with her various babysitters than she ever did with her father, and being back here opened all those wounds afresh.
So yeah, she despised the city and all things associated with it. The Stampede better freaking crush the Penguins tomorrow.
This was why her father had called her the week before; he’d seen that the team would be in town, and he wanted to have dinner with her. For some reason she didn’t quite understand, she’d said yes.
Apparently that little girl from so long ago was still desperate for a little attention from the one man who should be guaranteed to love her. And that little girl wasn’t going to give up hope, even when she was under the scornful eye of the cynical twenty-nine-year-old who knew her father was just going to disappoint her.
Again.
Then there was the fact that she always felt like she was betraying her mother whenever she saw her dad. But guilt was something her mother had never made her feel when it came to this.
Not once. Not ever.
But Naomi was a better woman, a stronger woman, than most. She’d been devastated when Jim left, but she’d gotten over that—and him—years ago. Long before she met Matt. Abby wished she could figure out how to heal this wound, because walking around with so much pain was pointless. Her father didn’t care, so why should she?
Abby was pulled out of her thoughts as the waiter returned with a fresh glass of wine, setting it on the table before he took a step back and eyed the empty seats.
“Do you know what your two guests would like to drink?” he asked.
“Guest. And he should be here soon,” she said as she glanced down at her phone to check her text messages.
Nope. Nothing from her dad. But when had her time ever been important to him? The most recent message was from Logan. He’d sent it about ten minutes ago asking what time she’d be back to the hotel.
It had been seven days since the charity dinner. Seven days since they’d reestablished themselves and had started to open up way more than either of them had before.
They’d text each other throughout the day playing Truth. Most of the things ridiculous like favorite ice cream flavor (hers turtle tracks, his rocky road) or favorite movie (hers Benny & Joon, his Star Wars: A New Hope). The more serious Truths were reserved for when they were in bed, wrapped up in each other. There they talked about their biggest regrets, their passions, things that shaped them.
Well, some of the things…
Abby had yet to tell Logan about her father. The damage he’d caused. The scars that would never go away. She hated it. Hated feeling so weak, and that was something she didn’t want Logan to see.
She wasn’t ready for it.
Which was why she hadn’t been exactly truthful about tonight. She’d just told him she had a dinner meeting and that she’d be free afterward. She had a feeling she was going to need something to distract her after this. And Logan definitely fit that bill.
“The reservation was made for three. A Mr. and Mrs. Fields, and guest. I’m sure they’ll be here soon.” He eyed the two chairs again not so subtly before he moved off.
Her father had said nothing about anyone else joining them. Who would he be bringing along? He’d said he wanted dinner with his family.
Family. He had no idea what that word meant.
Abby found herself reaching for her glass of wine before she even realized it. She took a healthy sip before she set it down, and as her eyes landed on the front door she wanted to grab the glass again and chug it.
Crush it in one fell swoop.
Her father was bringing a guest. A woman with pin-straight blonde hair, a full mouth that was the perfect example of what women wanted when they went to a plastic surgeon, and high cheekbones. Abby couldn’t see the rest of her as her rain-spotted Burberry trench coat was covering the rest of her body, but her sapphire blue Manolo Blahniks were stunning.
Too bad the woman’s excellent taste in shoes had no hope of endearing her to Abby. It wasn’t a possibility as she was currently arm in arm with Abby’s father.
She hadn’t seen him in three years, but to her he always looked the same.
Jim Fields was and always had been a handsome man. He looked like Richard Gere, the 2002 model when Mr. Gere had done the movie Chicago. Salt-and-pepper gray hair, though more on the salt side.
He was fifty-three and Abby would bet money that the woman he was leading to the table was younger than her own twenty-nine years.
She stood, more for something to do that anything else. Really she wanted to get the hell out of there. This had been a mistake. A horrible, horrible, mistake. But her feet were rooted to the ground, kind of like she was watching a train wreck and she just couldn’t pull herself away.
The problem? The train wreck was her life and she was living it.
“Abby, sorry we’re late,” Jim said as he got closer to the table. “Lacey was having trouble picking out something to wear.” He turned, giving the blonde on his arm an indulgent smile.
“Lacey.” Abby said the name slowly; it was the only way to keep the bitterness out of her voice… or most of the bitterness anyway.
But none of that mattered because a second later Abby had to use every ounce of her willpower to not completely and totally lose her shit.
Jim stepped behind Lacey, grabbing the shoulders of her coat as she worked at the tie around her waist. When he pulled the khaki-colored material away from her it was to reveal a rather prominent baby belly stretching at the stomach of her polka-dotted dress.
As soon as Lacey’s arms were free, she reached for Abby’s hands, grabbing both of them and holding firm. Abby couldn’t stop herself from looking down at their hands, and when she did she saw a very familiar ring glistening on the ring finger of Lacey’s left hand.
Abby recognized it immediately as it had sat on her mother’s hand for years. It was a Fields family heirloom, going back three generations. Naomi had given it back in the divorce, and now it was on this woman’s hand.
Abby was numb. Her ears were ringing and she wasn’t quite sure she remembered how to breathe. She couldn’t think to save her life, which was probably why she didn’t pull away when Lacey leaned forward, placing a kiss on each of her cheeks.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Lacey said sweetly. “Jim talks about you all the time.”
Well, if anything was going to bring Abby back to the moment, it was that.
“Oh really?” Abby’s eyebrows raised up her forehead as she looked at her father who was currently pulling off his own jac
ket, flecks of rain clinging to the fabric and his hair.
“Of course I do.” He smiled as he placed his jacket on the empty chair. Then he reached out, grabbing Abby’s shoulders and pulling her in for a hug.
Her father very rarely hugged her, and it took everything in her to not pull away. Instead she just stood there, stiff as a board, until he let go and took a step back.
“Abby.” He grinned, not even remotely bothered by the tension that was radiating off her. “I want you to meet your stepmom, Lacey Fields.”
She wanted to run away.
* * *
The elevator doors opened onto the seventh floor and Logan stepped out, making his way down the hallway to Abby’s room. He’d had practice that afternoon and then he’d gone out to dinner with Jace and Raymond Kirk.
Ray had played with Logan at the University of Michigan, and he was currently a defenseman for the Penguins. They caught up with each other whenever they had the opportunity.
After dinner Jace had left with their waitress, and after another drink with Ray, Logan headed back to the hotel. He was looking forward to spending the rest of the evening with Abby.
He pulled the keycard out of his pocket and slid it in the slot. The light turned green and he stepped inside.
The room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp in the corner and the steady flickering from the TV. One of those fashion-design reality TV shows was playing. He recognized the show immediately because it was the same one Adele watched religiously.
The bed was blocked by the wall, and when it came into view he found Abby sitting up, her back against the headboard and her legs folded in front of her on the bed. She was wearing leggings and a stampede T-shirt, the collar artfully ripped out so that one side hung low, exposing her bare shoulder. A pile of papers was stacked in her lap, a glass of wine in her hand. She took a sip before she set the wineglass on the nightstand.
“Hey.” He tossed his jacket on the chair in the corner as he made his way into the room.
“Hey,” she said softly, a small smile on her lips.
He couldn’t see her eyes, the glare from the TV reflecting off her reading glasses, so he wasn’t sure if it was a tired smile or a sad one… or both. Whatever it was, there was something that told him she wasn’t okay at the moment.
“How was dinner?” she asked as she gathered the papers in her lap. She unfolded her legs and stood, walking across the room to the desk in the corner.
“Good,” he said as he slipped off his shoes. He watched her as he loosened his tie, her shoulders rigid as she put her paperwork away. “It was nice catching up with Ray. What about you? How was your dinner meeting?”
She stopped for just a second, and the tension in her shoulders moved down her back.
“Fine,” she said with a nod before she unzipped her bag and slid the folder inside.
Yeah, he wasn’t buying that for a second. Besides the fact that she was wound so tight he thought she might snap any second now, he really hated that she wouldn’t look at him.
He crossed the room, coming behind her and putting his hands on her waist. He turned her around, pulling off her glasses as he looked down into her face. He was more than slightly staggered by the pain he found in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing to worry about.” Her chin dipped, her eyes leaving his as she reached up and fiddled with the top button on his shirt.
“Red,” he whispered as he touched her chin, lightly pushing up until he had her eyes again. “Truth: what’s going on?”
“I thought there were two other options with that game.”
“Not tonight.” He shook his head. “Just the one.”
“But I have wine.” She gestured to the nightstand behind him, giving him another weak smile that failed miserably in covering up the pain etched in her eyes.
He had a feeling that wasn’t her first glass, either. There was color in her cheeks, and as far as he knew only three things did that to her fair complexion: alcohol, sex, and anger. As he’d just gotten back it wasn’t number two, and as she didn’t appear to be angry so much as hurt, he discounted number three as well.
“Abby, talk to me.” He reached up and touched her temple before he ran his fingers down the side of her face, cupping her jaw.
“It wasn’t a business dinner that I went to tonight,” she said thickly.
“Then what was it?”
She swallowed hard before she cleared her throat. “A dinner with my father.”
She pulled her head away from his touch, her eyes leaving his. He was just about to reach for her again when she took a step into him, burying her face in his chest. Her shoulders shook lightly and hot tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt.
He reached down, grabbing her thighs and pulling her up. Her arms slid around his shoulders and she pressed her face into his neck, her uneven breaths washing over his skin. He walked over to the bed and sat down, Abby now straddling his lap. He ran his hands up and down her back as they both settled into the new position.
She hadn’t really talked about her father, and the absence of information had been obvious to him. He hadn’t pried, knowing she would reveal that information when she was ready. It was how he coped with the truth about Madison, so he could provide her the same courtesy.
But the lack of information, and how she was reacting at the moment, made it obvious that she and her father didn’t have a good relationship. Logan had never seen her like this before, and he found it affected him more than he was prepared for.
Sure, there was nothing like a crying woman to make him feel completely and totally awful, but this was different. He was powerless as he held Abby in his arms. He just wanted to make her pain stop, and that was something he hadn’t taken on in a long time. Eight years to be exact.
It took a couple of minutes for her erratic breathing to calm down and return to a steady pattern. She pressed her lips lightly to his neck before she pulled her head from his shoulder and looked at him.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to lose it.”
“Don’t apologize for that.” He reached up, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear. Tears clung to her lashes, those eyes of hers somehow appearing bluer than normal.
“I’m a mess.”
“A beautiful mess.” His beautiful mess. “Tell me what happened tonight.”
Her eyes left his and she started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt again.
He waited for her to gather her thoughts, waited for her to get the courage to tell him. He wasn’t going to rush her, because it was her story.
After a minute she took a deep breath and her eyes met his. “You know how people say that they don’t see it coming? That they don’t realize the person they’re spending their life with, the person who’s supposed to love them, in fact doesn’t. It seems ridiculous, right? How could they not know?” Her voice dropped as she shook her head. “But my mother didn’t, she didn’t know, didn’t know that her husband of twelve years was just coasting through his life with her. That it was all this great big facade. And I… I didn’t know it, either.”
She blinked and another tear trailed down her cheek.
“So he left. Left when I was ten years old. Didn’t even think twice about what he was leaving behind.”
The anger in Logan’s stomach bubbled. He knew this story; it was similar to the one he’d gone through with Cassidy. Parents walking out on their children. Parents who failed to do what they were supposed to do.
“We weren’t enough.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Abby, don’t say that. It isn’t true.”
Her bottom lip started to tremble and she pulled it up between her teeth. She blinked her eyes rapidly, more tears falling as she freed her bottom lip.
“You don’t understand. The reason he wanted to see me today? He wanted to introduce me to his new wife. He got remarried without even telling me. And he married a woma
n who’s three years younger than me.” She laughed bitterly and some of that sadness in her eyes was replaced with anger.
“I sat there for two hours, Logan, two hours of him going on and on about his new wife, my new twenty-six-year-old stepmother,” she said as she put her left hand over her chest. “And my new baby brother. She’s pregnant. Pregnant with a son my father talked about with more enthusiasm than I can ever recall him talking about me.”
“Abby.” He reached up and ran his fingers under her eyes.
“He kept going on and on about family, how important it was. But it wasn’t important when he left nineteen years ago. I wasn’t important when he left. I wasn’t enough.”
“No.” He shook his head, cradling her face in both of his palms. “He’s a fraction of a man. He’s the one who missed out on knowing who you are. I know it’s hard to see, but I promise you, you’re better off. You’re better off without him. You are amazing Abby Fields. From the tips of your toes to the end of your nose, and everything in between.”
“Thank you.” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re amazing, too, Logan James.”
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. A soft and slow tangling of tongues as her hands came up, her fingers spearing in his hair, raking the back of his head.
Logan moved, rolling her to her back and laying her gently on the bed. They both scooted back across the mattress, their mouths never separating.
Their clothes fell away as they pulled at each other. Their hands roamed across every inch of the other’s body as they moved together. And then he was pushing inside of her and she was clutching at his shoulders as she gasped for breath. Clutching at his shoulders as he whispered in her ear, as he told her over and over again just how worth it she was.
Chapter Eleven
Discoveries
The Stampede returned to Jacksonville the following night after a beyond close game, 5–4, over the Penguins. They pulled it out at the very end, scoring a goal with thirty seconds left.
They’d taken a late flight back, landing around midnight. Abby was more than groggy, having fallen asleep on the plane. When they stood to file out, Logan had been right behind her. She’d had her arms folded, holding her rain jacket close to her body. He’d slipped his hand into hers, tracing the back of her hand with his thumb as they moved forward.
Undressed Page 10
