Enforcer (Seattle Sharks Book 2)

by Samantha Whiskey

My skin hummed as he held me to him, stroking my spine and fingering the long strands of my hair. This was perfection.

  Gage knew exactly what I needed, when I needed it, and could more than deliver. It made my heart hurt even more as I came down from the exceptional high he’d taken me to. Because I loved him this much, because we were this good together, and yet, we couldn’t make it work. We couldn’t regain that common ground we’d once had because he wouldn’t entertain my dream, as I always had his. I loved him enough to contemplate giving up ever growing a baby inside me, but he clearly didn’t love me as much if he couldn’t even think about giving me the chance. It was an impasse, one that put a wall between our hearts, despite the passion that still rocked our bodies.

  After cleaning us up, he spooned me silently. Maybe he didn’t have the words, or maybe he didn’t realize that this was my goodbye—the only goodbye that made sense when it came to us.

  I was on the plane before he woke up the next morning, shifting uncomfortably in the small seat, the soreness between my thighs not unpleasant but serving as a reminder of how much it hurt to leave Gage.

  Glancing down, I shifted the stack of papers that Lettie had handed me after I’d made her a quick breakfast. They were stapled together.

  “A picture for every day since Thanksgiving,” she’d said, not a tear shed—not from my warrior princess.

  They were stunning paintings she’d done herself—some images recognizable like a butterfly, or dragon—but her abstracts were the most beautiful, the most impactful.

  She already has so much of you inside her. A voice whispered in my head, taunting me with the notion that Lettie really could’ve been mine if I hadn’t left.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, holding the hand-made book to my chest. I’d told her I’d be back, that I loved her, that she was the most amazing little girl I’d ever met. And she knew it. The love I had for her wasn’t a question in her mind, which made my leaving different from Helen’s. And I kept reminding myself of that every single time my stomach lurched at the thought of Lettie waking up to a new nanny.

  “Something to drink, Miss?” A sweet flight attendant pulled me out of my twisting thoughts.

  “Alcohol. I don’t care what. Just keep the drinks coming, please.” I leaned my head back as she nodded and handed me a tiny glass of red wine. I sipped it, enjoying the warmth as it slid down my throat.

  Looking out the window, an endless blue sky stretching out before me, I wondered what this new life would be like and how it would hold a candle to the few blissful months I’d had where Gage was mine, and the dream of family had been close enough to touch.

  Gage

  Chapter 17

  She’d left.

  The one woman I thought would stay.

  She hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye, hadn’t given me fair warning or a chance to find some kind of compromise.

  I wanted it to hurt, to feel some kind of pain, agony, or even anger, but instead I was numb. The last week had gone by in a kind of hazy blur. I put Lettie on the waiting list for preschool next year, somehow made it to the doc for a checkup and then practice, but everything else felt hazy. Surreal.

  “Gage!” Mom snapped, and I looked up from where I’d been staring at Lettie on her Fortress, my hands wrapped around a coffee mug.

  “What?” I asked.

  She sighed. “This applicant is fluent in Norwegian, and has great references,” she shuffled the papers on the patio table. “She also has lovely legs,” she mumbled.

  “Nope,” I answered automatically. “Find me someone over sixty. Bad legs.” There was zero chance I was ever going to fall for the nanny again.

  She scoffed. “Honestly. I know you’re upset about Bailey leaving, but really…”

  “Really what? I love her, Mom. I love her and she walked out. I’m not upset. I’m about four steps beyond that.”

  She reached across the table to lightly hold my wrist. “I know, and I’m so sorry. You two just had such different views of your future.”

  “She didn’t even give it a shot. I get it, she couldn’t turn down Paris. I don’t blame her. I couldn’t walk away from the NHL…” I looked over to where Lettie was climbing. She reached the top of her fortress and then waved after blowing me a kiss. I caught it and threw it back.

  Maybe this was enough. Maybe I didn’t need hockey. How badly could I need it if I knew I would throw it all away to keep her safe...or to have Bailey back in my arms. Was there anything I wouldn’t do to have her back?

  “I’ll say one thing on the subject and not one more,” Mom said.

  I met her somber expression but didn’t speak.

  “If you’re set against having more children because you legitimately don’t want more—”

  “Mom,” I groaned, my head smacking back against the chair.

  “Oh, stop. Her mother is my best friend. Don’t you think we talk about you?”

  “Great,” I said with a sarcastic smile, taking a sip of what was now frigid coffee.

  “Anyway. If that’s your reason, then yes, you might have an issue that’s greater than you can overcome. But if you’re doing this because you think she’s anything like Helen—because you’re scared that she’ll leave you, too, then my dear...you’re being a fucking idiot.”

  Coffee came out of my nose.

  Fuck, that hurt.

  I wiped the liquid off my face and openly gawked at my mother. “Excuse me?”

  “She’s not Helen.”

  “I know that,” I said, running my hands over my hair. “You don’t think I want more kids? I love Lettie. She’d be a phenomenal big sister and even the idea of having another little girl with Bailey’s smile… Hell yes, I want that. But what happens when she chooses art over us, just like she did now? What happens when I inevitably fuck everything up and she walks out? Does she leave all of us? Or do we get into a nasty custody battle where the kids never feel settled?”

  Mom sighed. “Why do you think it would end? Why do you always assume the worst? Because I left your dad?”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t get past the lump that had lodged itself in my throat.

  “Oh, Gage. We never loved each other the way you and Bailey do. I see the way you watch each other. I’ve seen it since you were kids. You can’t go through life basing your relationship on everyone else’s. Don’t make her pay for Helen’s crime. Or for mine.

  I looked over to Lettie and realized with another crack to my heart that maybe I was making her pay for mine.

  December in Ontario was bitter, especially when a cold front came down from the arctic. I pulled the collar of my jacket higher and made my way toward the restaurant.

  It had been three weeks since Bailey moved to Paris. Three weeks with little to no contact. Sure, she skyped Lettie once a week, but even then our contact was limited to “hi, how are you?”

  My heart hurt more every day in a way no painkiller could take away. I wasn’t just missing her body, her smile, her laugh, the way she erased every worry with a simple embrace. I was missing our family—driving home from practice to see my girls. The house felt so fucking empty even though there were still two of us in it.

  I couldn’t even replace her as a nanny. Mom had to step in to help because I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else getting as close to Lettie as Bailey had—couldn’t stand the thought of replacing her.

  She was irreplaceable.

  I crossed the busy street and walked into the restaurant, welcoming the blast of warmth. I would never complain about Seattle winters again. Ever.

  She was easy to spot, her blonde hair perfectly done, her style just a little on the showy side. Fuck, well here we go. “Helen,” I said as I took the seat across from her after handing my jacket to the maitre ‘d.

  “Gage,” she answered, sipping champagne from a flute. “I already ordered for you. Filet with a side of pasta for a little carb load before tonight’s game?”

  I nodded, hating that she knew even the mo
st mundane details of my life. “Thank you.”

  “Are you enjoying my city?” she asked, her giant diamond flashing under the lights.

  “It’s cold. Kind of like you. Why did you ask me to lunch?” I said, my patience wearing thin.

  She arched a thinly tweezed eyebrow. “I wanted to talk about Scarlett.”

  “I figured.” My fingers toyed with the tablecloth, trying to keep my temper in check.

  She sighed. “What I did on her birthday...I’m sorry about the cat.”

  “You apologizing? That’s a first.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry, now I’m being the ass. Don’t apologize for the cat, Helen. Apologize for not knowing in the first place.”

  “I know,” she said quietly, playing with the stem of her glass. “I’m not her mother anymore, not really.”

  My heart stilled in my chest.

  “I haven’t been since the day that I left her. But he...he never wanted kids, and knew she’d be better off with you anyway. I was always too selfish for parenting, and you took to it so naturally.” She forced a pained smile. “You have no clue how jealous of her I was—that she had so much of your love, such devotion. Or how jealous I was of you and your ability to bond with her like it was the most natural thing in the world.”

  “It was,” I said softly.

  She nodded. “I know. For you it was.” She leaned over and pulled something out of her purse, bringing it to the top of the table.

  Holy shit, it was the papers.

  Her breath shook on the exhale and she pushed them across the table. “They’re signed, as promised. I was clinging to something that didn’t exist, and honestly trying to punish you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

  “Helen…” I whispered, glancing at her signature and the notary’s before tucking them into my suit coat like they were...well, what they were—Lettie’s chance. My chance. Our chance.

  She shook her head and waved me off. “Don’t. Scarlett deserves better. She deserves to have Bailey as a mom. You guys are more of a family than we ever were.”

  I blinked. She was saying all the right words, had signed all the right papers, but I still couldn’t believe that she was giving up. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m thankful for this. More than you’ll ever know. But why now?”

  “Well, Roy and I have been in some counseling, and I’ve been doing a little self-exploration and accountability, as our therapist says.” She took another sip.

  “So this is all part of your process?”

  “Whatever. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “It just feels too easy.” Easy like I needed to check and make sure the papers hadn’t disappeared out of my own pocket.

  Her eyes narrowed. “For you. It’s easy for you. I did some really hard thinking and decided that as her mother, I owed her the best life possible. That life is with you and doesn’t include me.”

  “We could have worked something out, you know. We could have still co-parented.”

  She shook her head. “As much as I know what my responsibility was...I just…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be a mother. I like the idea of it, but that’s as far as that goes.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.” I held it together, shoving all of my feelings on the back burner. “I have to ask. Was there anything I could have done to make you stay?”

  “No, I was already so far gone.” She tilted her head and really looked at me. “But I wonder what would have happened if you’d come after me—fought for me.”

  I took a long sip of my water, knowing that there was no reality in which I would have chased her. Not when she’d abandoned the little girl she’d given birth to. “I wonder,” I said to appease her, but my mind strayed to Bailey. I have to ask. Was there anything I could have done to make you stay?

  Jesus. I hadn’t even fought or tried to really see her side. I’d looped her in with Helen and shoved her away. But hadn’t she already proved she wasn’t Helen? She’d been in contact with Lettie every week. She hadn’t abandoned us, she simply wasn’t physically present...but even though I was still angry with her for leaving, I knew she’d left her heart behind with us.

  She wasn’t Helen.

  “What now?” she asked with a sad smile as our food arrived.

  “Now we have lunch,” I answered.

  “As what?”

  “As two people who used to know each other really well,” I answered.

  “Yeah,” she said softly as our plates were placed in front of us. “I’d like that.”

  Then I did something I never thought possible—I had a civil, even funny conversation with the woman I’d assumed I’d spend the rest of my life with. There was no anger, no harsh feelings, just a slight breath of sadness.

  After Helen left, and I’d paid, I made my way to the front of the restaurant, my thoughts a nauseating blur. Two blondes eye-fucked me from the bar, but I kept going. Bailey was the last woman I’d been inside, and it was going to stay that way.

  Every emotion assaulted me as I hailed a cab back to the hotel. Joy, disbelief, gratitude, and a twinge of sadness that Helen would never fight for Lettie—they all mixed together. We had a chance, now. A real chance of being a complete family without Helen’s shadow...as soon as I figured out how to get Bailey back. We weren’t complete without her, and I was done living this half life.

  I wanted my woman back.

  It was fifteen minutes back to the hotel, and by the time we pulled up to the doors, I’d already made every arrangement I’d need.

  “How did it go?” Mom asked as I came into our suite.

  “She signed. It’s over.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Lettie is in her room watching that movie again.”

  “I swear, I’ll never understand why she loves that movie so much,” I said as I tossed my coat on the oversized chair.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Mom asked.

  “No,” I answered, my head already in the closet, yanking my suitcase out.

  “Gage, when did she start watching it?”

  “Around the time that Bailey came.” I paused at the door to my bedroom as it hit me. “The dad falls in love with the nanny.”

  “Bingo.”

  A slow smile spread across my face. I’d fallen for Bailey. Fully, hopelessly, completely, and if I had anything to say about it, I was going to love her for the rest of my life. We’d have a crazy, paint-messed house that was full of laughter, love, chaos and kids.

  “Hey, Mom, you’ve been amazing to travel with us—”

  “Well, I know you can’t stand to be separated from Lettie for more than a few days,” she said with a kind smile.

  I hated leaving Lettie...but I had to.

  “Yeah, well, you’re the only person besides Bailey that I trust with her. I need a favor.”

  “Anything,” she answered instantly.

  “I need you to take her home to Seattle after the game. I’m going to be gone for about a week, but I’ll be home for Christmas, I promise.”

  Her grin was instant and electric. “Go bring her home, Gage.”

  I nodded and then hauled the suitcase into my room. The flight left only a matter of hours after the game. My phone rang, Dr. Patterson’s private number coming up on the caller ID and I answered.

  “Hey, Doc, thanks for returning my call.”

  “Hi, Gage,” he said slowly in his serious tone.

  “Don’t sound so glum doc. I just have a quick question for you.” I tossed the suitcase onto the bed and popped the latches.

  He cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m glad you called. I need to talk to you about your test results from your checkup.”

  My stomach fell to the floor, and in that moment...everything changed.

  Bailey

  Chapter 18

  I clutched the cold, immaculately polished porcelain in the bathroom of my Paris apartment. My stomach churned, despite having just thrown up the lone cracker I�
�d had for breakfast.

  I pushed myself to standing, running the icy water in the sink over my hands and splashing my face. I didn’t know if it was the stress from the internship at the gallery, the food here in Paris, or some weird combination, but that was the third time I’d fell ill in two days. After a few deep breaths in an attempt to settle the sour mess that was my stomach, I opened my tiny medicine cabinet in search of some Pepto.

  I paused in my frantic search when my fingers brushed across the top of my tampon box. I scrunched my eyes, mentally counting the days. Had I really not had a period since I’d gotten to Paris? How had I not noticed that?

  A wave of nausea hit me again, and I leaned over the toilet just in time.

  No way. It wasn’t possible. Was it?

  The minute I felt solid enough to find out, I hurried to the corner shop near my complex and purchased a multi-pack of tests. My heart raced each step I took home, forcing me to be oblivious to the beautiful Parisian architecture I normally stopped to admire.

  Back in my bathroom in less time than I could think of the odds, I quickly took the test, thankful the positive and negative readings were universal in any language. Waiting as the seconds ticked by, I tried to convince myself of how highly unlikely this was. My sickness and being late on a period could very well be stress induced. And what was more stressful than undergoing a massive breakup right before plunging head first into a foreign gallery internship? Not to mention saying goodbye to Lettie. Which had broken my heart completely. Our Skype sessions were the highlight of my week, but it wasn’t enough.

  I thought about the email I’d received a few days ago, filling me with hope. The Seattle gallery I’d first applied to—and had been denied due to lack of space—had written to see if I was still interested, as they had a slot opening next month.

  Three more weeks and I can go home.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t adore the culture that made this city beautiful, inviting, and romantic, but my heart was in Seattle. Where Lettie was; where Gage was. Just thinking his name hurt, the absence of his voice, his touch, his smell had left a cold empty hole in my heart these past few weeks. I’d been a fool to think the gallery or Paris could fill it.