by Lena Hart
He regarded her closely. “Have I made you that unhappy?”
Jules sighed and shut her eyes for a moment. How was she supposed to hold on to her resolve when he looked at her like that?
“Mason, I’m happy that you’re happy with your career. I agreed to move away from my family and friends so that we could have this opportunity. But Jeremy and Madison are getting older, and the way things are between us… It’s not fair to them, and I’m getting tired of making excuses for you.”
“So you’d rather break up our family? You’re not even going to give me a chance to fix it?”
She sighed. “Our kids are growing up before my eyes, Mason. Yet every time I look around, you’re nowhere in sight. They miss you, and I…”
I just want my husband back.
“Getting a divorce isn’t going to make things better,” Mason said tightly. “You know that. Unless you’re not interested in making things better. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Jules back drew up at the suggestion in his tone. It was also in his shrewd gaze—his assumption that this had more to do with someone else than the fact that he had let his work turn him into a neglectful husband and a distracted father.
“I hope you’re not accusing me of seeing someone,” she snapped.
“Are you?” His even tone couldn’t mask the flinty anger in his gaze.
“No.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “The fact that you would even think that shows just how little you know about what’s going on in this house.”
He pushed away from the sofa and advanced toward her. It was only when he got this close that she was reminded of how tall he was. Even at five-eight, she had to stare up at his lean yet athletic six-five frame.
“Then enlighten me. Who’s the guy you were caught having dinner with?”
“Dinner?” She racked her brain at who he could possibly by talking about. She hadn’t been out with anyone in—
Oh, no.
He couldn’t possibly know about that. Could he?
“Don’t lie to me, Jules, because pretty soon all of New Orleans will be talking about the mystery man who was out to dinner with my wife.”
Jules suppressed the guilt that threatened to surface. She had done nothing wrong that night, and she wouldn’t let him make her feel like she had. Luckily, she didn’t have to defend herself or go into any further explanation.
They were interrupted by small feet running down the hall, the light slaps of their daughter’s sandals getting louder as she barreled toward them.
“Daddy!”
Mason turned away from Jules and caught their daughter as she flung herself into his arms. He tossed her up, and Jules couldn’t help smiling at her daughter’s squeals of delight.
“How’s my little princess?” Mason asked as he settled her against his shoulder.
Madison blew out a dramatic breath. “Daddy, I’m not a princess anymore.”
“You’re not?”
“Nooo. I’m a queen. Like Mommy.”
Mason glanced at her, his brows raised, and Jules shrugged, not bothering to go into an explanation of their overly imaginative four-year-old’s current phase of believing she was destined to be a queen because her mommy had won a beauty contest several years ago.
Besides, Jules was certain her daughter’s attention would be fixated on something new next week.
“Then should I call you Queen Madison?” Mason asked. “Or Queenie for short?”
Madison giggled. “I like Queenie.”
“I like it too,” Carrie Joseph said as she made her way into the room, with Jeremy following behind her. Their part-time nanny was a dream to have. Not only did she work well with their son and his autism, Jeremy also took to her.
“How was school today, Jeremy?”
Jeremy didn’t respond to Mason. Instead, his gaze remained glued to his tablet as he made his way to the sofa and sat down.
“He hasn’t been feeling very talkative today,” Carrie said.
“What’s he watching?” Jules asked her.
“A rerun of that panda cartoon he loves.”
Jules nodded, familiar with her son’s favorite cartoon. They had been managing their son’s autism since he had been diagnosed at the age of two. There was something about the kung-fu-fighting panda that helped him self-regulate his emotions during car rides. But if she let him, he would fixate on his tablet and never acknowledge them.
“Jeremy, Daddy asked you a question. How was school today?”
“Leave it,” Mason muttered.
“His speech therapist says we need to encourage him to speak more at home, even when he’s not feeling up to it.”
“If he doesn’t want to speak right now, Jules, don’t force him.”
She pressed her lips together, a bit annoyed by his attitude toward their son’s communication development. While she wanted to encourage their son to express himself more, Mason was content to let him do as he pleased. Not wanting to argue with him in front of their kids, Jules let the matter drop.
“I’m starting school too, Daddy.”
“I’ve heard,” Mason said, giving their daughter the attention she clearly wanted. “You’re a big girl now.”
“When I get big like you, can I play hockey too?”
“Why not? Maybe you can even coach too. You can have everyone calling you Coach Queen.”
Madison giggled. “Queenie Coach!”
He chuckled. “Even better.”
As much as Jules hated to end their moment of bonding, she knew their daughter would talk Mason’s ear off if he let her. And there was still so much that had been left unsaid between them.
“Carrie, would you take the kids up to their rooms for a bit?”
“Sure,” Carrie said, glancing from Jules to Mason. She reached for Madison, but their daughter instantly wrapped her tiny arms around Mason’s neck.
“But Mommy, I wanna tell Daddy about my new school.”
“You can tell me all about it later, sweetie.”
She pouted. “But Daddy…”
Mason tickled her until she squealed with laughter and loosened her hold around him. Carrie scooped her up in her arms, continuing the tickling as she called to Jeremy.
“Jeremy, can I get a hug before you go?” Mason asked.
Their son came back to stand in front of Mason. He stood still as Mason wrapped an arm around his slender shoulders and pulled him into a hug.
“Thanks, buddy.”
Jeremy pulled out of the embrace and followed Carrie and Madison out of the room. When Jules was certain they were out of earshot, she turned back to Mason. The bitter anger that had been etched across his face was now wiped away. Their children had that effect on him. With them, he had never lost his patience or temper.
No matter what she felt about him or their marriage, Mason was an incredible father—when he was around.
“I don’t want to lose my kids, Jules.”
She sighed. “You’re not losing them, Mason.”
He walked over to her and took her hand in his. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”
Jules let her gaze drop to his chest. The torment in his eyes was too distracting. None of it was easy for her, and she didn’t want to have to make this decision. But she knew the sooner she ripped off the bandage, the sooner she could tend to her wounded heart and try to find a way for it to heal.
“Mason, this is hard for me too, but—”
“It doesn’t have to be. We can make this work. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”
She continued to stare at his chest, lost. She didn’t have a checklist for him to follow. What she wanted—no, needed—from him went far deeper than that. But before she could find the words, his next remark caused her heart to flip then plummet.
“You still love me, Jules. Don’t you?”
She brought her eyes up to him then, taken aback by the question. Did she still love him? She couldn’t deny it, so she didn’t
. She also knew he could see the answer in her eyes, and she didn’t bother hiding it.
“I still love you, Jules. I’ll do whatever it takes to make our marriage work.”
“Anything?”
She studied him closely, wondering just how willing he was to stand by his word. During one of their lowest moments, she had made a suggestion that would help repair their marriage, but he had swiftly shut it down.
This time, however, he squeezed her hand and nodded. “Anything.”
Chapter 3
Anything…
Mason shook his head at himself. “Anything” turned out to be the last thing he wanted. But if Jules believed marriage counseling would help them, then he would do it.
The only problem was getting there.
Mason glanced down at his watch for the third time. “Harlan, when is this going to start? I have somewhere to be in an hour.”
“Soon,” Harlan Axel murmured, his attention focused on his phone. “Give it about another ten, fifteen minutes. The press room is getting prepped as we speak.”
“And the reporters understand that they’re just covering my promotion, right? I don’t want my marriage brought up in this thing, or any other crap that’s being said about me or my wife.”
Harlan finally looked up from his phone, and the shrewd look in his dark eyes was somehow reassuring. “If they want to be invited back, they’ll stick to sports. They know the rules. You stick to your promotion and coaching. I’ll field the rest.”
Mason nodded, trusting Harlan to run a smooth press conference. It was one of the things their team’s publicist was exceptional at.
Suddenly his phone vibrated in his hands and Mason glanced down at the screen.
“Excuse me. I have to take this.” Mason quietly stepped out of the waiting room and found a private nook down the hall to tuck himself in. “Carrie, is everything all right?”
It was rare that their nanny called him at work. So rare that he immediately thought the worst and tensed with worry.
“Sorry to call you at work, but Jeremy had a bad day at school today.”
“What happened?”
“His teacher told me some of the older students were making fun of him about…what’s been on the news about you. I was hoping you could cheer him up before his new speech therapist gets here.”
“Sure. Put him on.” Mason leaned against the wall and waited for Carrie to pass the phone to his son. Trying not to let the anger of what Carrie just told him seep into his voice. It wasn’t enough that the vultures were invading his private life, they were now causing issues for his kids. That infuriated him.
“Dad?”
“Hey, buddy. What’s going on? Carrie tells me you had a bad day at school.”
“No.”
“Are you sure? You know you can tell me, right?”
Silence filled the line for a moment, but Mason waited patiently until his son was ready to speak.
“They called me orphan boy.”
“Who did?”
“Big kids. They laughed at me.”
“You’re not an orphan, Jeremy. Your mom and I are still here and we’re not going anywhere.”
“Divorce?”
Mason sighed and shoved his fist into his pocket. “No, son, we’re not getting a divorce. Don’t listen to what other people have to say about us, okay? We love you, we love your sister, and we love each other. Don’t you forget that.”
“Okay.”
But he didn’t sound convinced and Mason blew out another breath.
“Jeremy, nothing and no one can ever hurt you. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a Courage and we’re strong. You know what else we are?”
“What?”
“Come on, buddy. You know this one.” When Jeremy didn’t take the bait, Mason urged him on. “Who are we, Jeremy?”
There was a short pause before Jeremy started the jingle they had learned together. “I may be small…”
Mason smiled and promptly replied, “I may be big.”
“You’re not a dragon. I’m not a pig.”
“But we’re quite fuzzy. What can we be?”
Jeremy’s voice grew louder as he gained enthusiasm for the song. “We have two colors. We’re black and white. We sleep on treetops, both day and night.”
“We are not monkeys. That, I can see. Am I a bird? Are you a bee?”
“No, silly.” Jeremy giggled.
His heart warmed at the sound. Jeremy always laughed at that part, but Mason continued on. “We eat bamboo, but we don’t share.”
“Because we’re pandas. Because we’re BEARS.”
They both growled the last word into the phone until Jeremy dissolved into laughter.
“Mason?”
He peeked his head out of the nook he’d been hiding in to find Harlan advancing toward him. Mason held up his hand and Harlan stopped then waved him over.
“We’re ready for you.”
Mason nodded and mouthed “one sec” to the publicist before slipping back into the nook.
“Feeling better, buddy?”
“Yes.”
There was a noticeable lightness in his son’s voice that wasn’t there earlier and Mason’s smile widened.
“That’s my boy. I’ll see you later tonight.”
Mason ended the call and made his way back to the waiting room. Once the press conference was underway, he and Harlan sat behind a row of microphones and fielded several questions about his promotion, Thibodeault’s retirement, and the future of the Cajun Rage. Mason spoke briefly about the team and his plans as head coach. He even managed to dodge a few queries about his players and their recent troubles in the press.
But no one was as persistent—or sneaky—as Harrison Stacey.
“Coach, did your recent promotion have anything to do with your wife filing for divorce?”
Mason clenched his jaw and leveled the bold journalist with a hard glare.
“Thanks, everyone,” Harlan smoothly broke in. “But that’s all the questions Coach Courage is going to answer for today. If we didn’t get to your question, you can thank Mr. Stacey for that.”
Mason shoved away from the table as the press began to shout questions at him. He ignored them as he headed toward the exit, Doug at his heels. Harlan hung back, allowing Mason a quick escape before he said something he would regret on camera.
“Coach, wait.”
Mason turned to find Harrison rushing toward them. He ignored him and continued down the hall.
“Come on, Courage,” Harrison said as he fell into step beside him, his blonde hair still neatly in place. “Give me something. I just need one statement. Haven’t I always been good to you and the Rajuns?”
Mason’s brow inched up, but he didn’t slow his stride. Did Harrison honestly consider his mundane stories and gossip-filled coverage of their team good reporting? The man spent more time prying into their team’s private lives with cynical commentary than actually reporting on their games. His last so-called article had managed to send one of their players to a dark, destructive place that had nearly gotten him banned from the league.
Mason had no tolerance for this particular reporter.
“No comment, Harrison. Now, if you don’t want to lose your press pass, I suggest you get lost.”
“Why don’t you want to put those rumors about you and your wife to bed? Your silence only makes it worse.”
Mason refused to dignify that bullshit with a response.
“He said no comment.”
Harrison disregarded Doug’s crisp response and forged on. “Who’s the guy in the picture? Is he the reason behind your divorce?”
“Hey, I have a headline for you,” Doug said. “‘Sports journalist gets a red-hot Rajun kick in the ass.’ Now, seriously. Get lost.”
Mason couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. His personal assistant certainly had a way with words. Maybe he should have Doug double
as his enforcer.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Harrison continued, ignoring the jibe. “You’re married to a beauty queen. With a wife like yours, every guy in the county has been waiting out your marriage.”
Mason came to a complete stop and whipped around to Harrison, his shoulders bunched. “What did you just say?”
“Uh oh…” Doug muttered.
Harrison shrugged. “It’s no secret your wife’s a knockout. There must be guys lined up waiting to take—”
Before the journalist could finish his sentence, Mason drove his fist into Harrison’s jaw. It connected with such impact that the man lifted slightly from the ground and landed on his back.
In a distant part of his mind, Mason registered the gravity of what he had done, but he couldn’t think of the consequences right now. His attention was focused solely on the man on the ground and the fury pulsing through him.
Mason took another step toward him, but the blood on Harrison’s mouth stopped him cold. Clearly dazed, Harrison touched his lip, then stared down at the blood on his fingers. He scrambled to his feet. To Mason’s surprise, the man started to laugh.
“You just gave me an even better headline,” Harrison muttered. “‘New Rajuns coach wins Cup, then loses wife, temper, and job.’ How does that sound?”
Searing rage crackled inside him, but Mason forced himself not to take the bait again. Instead, Mason balled his hands at his sides to keep from grabbing the bastard and slugging him in the eye this time.
Without another word, Mason spun on his heels and continued to his office. He barely made it there before Harlan chased him down. His typical composure and flat expression were unusually ruffled.
“Damn it, Mason,” he snapped. “What the hell did you do?”
“If you’re referring to Harrison Stacey, that son-of-a-bitch had it coming the minute he started talking about Jules.”
Harlan ran a hand through his neatly groomed brown hair. “Everyone’s talking about her. She’s a rocket. She’s also America’s former beauty queen who filed for divorce from the hottest coach in the league right now. Get used to it.”
