by Lynda Aicher
The very team that had started him down the road laced with one drug after the other was now condemning him for what they’d previously encouraged. What a goddamn fucking double standard.
Scott spun away from the railing, eager to punch something. Anything. And there was nothing around him but grass and innocent people. Shit.
He ground his teeth against the bitterness that filled his mouth with the rancid taste of betrayal. It didn’t matter that he’d already been thinking of retiring or that in many ways he was ready to leave the pressures of the professional arena. What really stung was the sense of abandonment and that big-ass knife jabbed in his back.
More than business, my ass. I’m not fucking Bobby Gardner.
He stormed back to his bike, shoes clicking off the rapid pace in an annoying tap that rang too close to failure. He couldn’t think about what Segar had said right then, not when it was so fresh and stung so fucking badly.
The twenty-mile ride ahead of him would offer some break, but would it be enough? The idea of going back to his empty house to stew even more was so unappealing. He had his cell phone out and Jessie’s number dialed up before he’d consciously thought about it.
“Scotty?” Jessie answered, a grin in his voice. “What’s up, man?”
One of his few friends who’d remained from high school, the familiar connection soothed him a bit. Jessie had never played hockey or expected anything from him except a good conversation and a few laughs.
“Not much,” Scott replied, going with impulse. “You downtown?”
“At my usual place.”
Easily doable from his location. “Cool.” He sat his helmet down to root around in his bike pack. “Mind some company?”
“Not yours.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.” Faster if he burned off some of his anger in the process.
He clicked off and yanked the mint case out of his bag. The pills were down his throat a second later. His water was warm now, but the chaser washed away some of the lingering sourness that coated his mouth.
Head down, he focused on the road and tried to forget about the bullshit Segar had dumped on him. He counted down the miles and waited for the familiar warmth to ease over him, along with the mellow sensation that chased away his worries and dulled the constant radiating ache that lived in his knee.
Segar had no clue what it was like to play the game of hockey at the pro level or the toll it took on a man’s body. Pain pills were a part of the game, and none of the meds he took were banned by the anti-doping agency that governed U.S. sports.
His only issue was his fucked-up knee. Unfortunately, he had no clue if was bad enough to give up the game he still loved.
Chapter Five
A plastic bottle tumbled down the alley, pushed along by the breeze that gusted between the two buildings. Rachel took a shallow breath and waited patiently for Carter to finish. His earlier conversation with the homeless man huddled under a stack of cardboard had ended with an exchange of money and permission for Carter to take his picture.
When she’d weaseled her way into Carter’s morning photo hunt, she honestly hadn’t expected to spend hours walking through one of the city’s poorest neighborhoods. They were so far from the tourist areas she almost wished she’d spent the day alone in Rock’s loft. Almost.
This had been an education in opposition, exactly what Carter’s photos specialized in displaying. She’d been unaware though that he’d transitioned from buildings to people. It was humbling to witness so much poverty and need, yet there’d been smiles on more than one of the subjects Carter had photographed today.
She shifted his photography bag to her other shoulder and leaned on the brick wall behind her. The stench of rotting garbage and urine filled her nose on every inhale, but it’d grown weaker as she’d become used to it.
She kept her sigh to herself and lifted her face to the sun. This wasn’t a completely foreign environment to her. Not this exact location or specific situation, but she’d climbed the stairs of more than one run-down apartment building, dodging cockroaches and trash before she’d reached a student’s door. The inner-city Atlanta school district she worked for had its share of students in low-income housing.
In fact, the neighborhood they’d spent the morning exploring could’ve been transplanted into any large city with very little change. Boarded windows and safety bars spread between the corner market and pawn shop. Graffiti on the Laundromat wall competed with the thriving ethnic markets. The area still functioned, even if litter cluttered the edges of the sidewalk, and every alley held its own homeless camp. Each with rules and a code that only the residents of the streets understood.
She honestly didn’t mind the trip, found it fascinating actually. The photos Carter was taking were gritty and real. It had the added bonus of keeping her mind off one Scott Walters. Well, she thought it would until she found herself standing around contemplating her good fortunes. It was hard not to compare when faced with those who had so little.
Despite her better judgment, she’d checked her silent phone way too often and spent more than a few hours yesterday digging through the many internet articles about Scott. Through them she’d obtained a clear outline of his fifteen-year career in professional hockey. Including every contract and yearly salary. The numbers were staggering. He earned millions of dollars to play a game. Yes, she knew that was how it worked, but this was the first time she personally knew someone who made that kind of money.
One quarter of his salary would feed the homeless in this neighborhood for a year, maybe more. Not to mention what it could do for the schools. More teachers, new books, better supplies—the list was huge.
It wasn’t his fault though. Society had screwed the pooch on that skewed perspective years ago. It made her wonder what the hell he’d been doing dancing with her though. She was so far away from the glitz and show of extreme wealth it was almost comical. A high school teacher’s salary didn’t allow for many luxuries.
She glanced at her discount tennis shoes, which were paired with box-store jean shorts and a V-neck T-shirt bought on sale at the end of last season. Not exactly glamorous.
A peek in Carter’s direction showed him talking to the homeless man, their conversation too low to hear. His profile was caught in the light, his overtly handsome face another contrast to their surroundings. He was a prime example of the good men being either taken or gay. In his case, both applied.
Chiseled cheekbones and jaw beneath stunning blue eyes and dark hair. He was the definition of tall, dark and sexy. Yet she’d learned through bits and snippets over the two years he’d been with Rock that his looks hadn’t granted him a stellar background or easy path through life. Details hadn’t been needed to paint the picture of how the two men had truly healed each other.
And that was the kind of love she held out for.
Attraction was fleeting. Sex grew stagnant. And real life always intruded to pop the glowing bubble of infatuation.
Crap. She shoved away from the wall and headed toward the alley entrance. Her evening with Scott had been nothing more than a blip in her life. It was also a digging reminder of what she didn’t have.
The street was busy with cars, and a glance at her phone showed it message-free and closing in on noon. Lunchtime. There were a few diners and cafés down the street, and she caught a whiff of something spicy and tantalizing over the exhaust fumes. Ah, inner-city bliss.
Had Scott ever been to this area of town? She imagined he lived in the burbs with an oversized house and a luxury car. And now she was being petty. He’d been nothing but nice, courteous and honest with her.
Sexy as hell and too good to be true.
The repeated reminder didn’t stop her from finding the picture of him she’d sent to herself. She hadn’t noticed the small scar over his eyebrow that night, but it was there in the picture. A faint, pale line about an inch long. A hockey puck when he was twenty-five—she’d read that. There’d also been a picture of a b
loody mouth when he was twenty-three. He’d lost two teeth from that high stick, not that she could tell which ones.
And he really was single with no divorces or kids. She was kind of embarrassed to have snooped that much. However, his life was openly recorded for the public and she wasn’t a blindly trusting girl anymore. Past burns had a way of changing behavior. That and caution came with wisdom and age.
“Hey,” Carter said from behind her. “Thanks for waiting.” He brushed his bangs off his forehead and motioned to her phone in her hand. “Did Rock call?”
She glanced down and quickly moved it out of his sight. “No.” The last thing she needed was to be caught mooning over a picture of Scott. “I was just checking my mail.” She shoved her phone into her back pocket and handed over his bag. “Where to next?”
He squinted down the street while he hooked the strap over his head to drape his bag across his chest. “I think I’m done for now.” Music boomed from the open windows of a passing car, the bass thundering a hard beat through her chest. “You hungry?”
“Yes.” The yogurt for breakfast had worn off around eleven, the time she normally ate lunch during the school year. “What are you thinking?”
He checked his phone, a soft smile curling over his lips. It was his Rock smile. It soured her stomach and warmed her chest simultaneously. Damn confused emotions. Envy was a nasty bitch she didn’t need hanging around.
“Rock said he could meet us in thirty.” Carter tucked his phone away, already moving down the sidewalk in the direction of his car. “There’s a great little Thai place near home that has amazing noodles. We’re supposed to meet him there.”
She kept pace with him, eyes scanning for threats out of habit. Growing up with a drill sergeant for a father and the added bonus of being female had taught her to never let her guard down in foreign territory. “Cool,” she said. “Did you get what you needed today?”
“Hope so.”
“When’s the gallery show again?” She frowned, trying to remember if he’d said before.
“Labor Day weekend, I hope.” He shrugged. “I need to get some more photos together and talk it through with the gallery owner, but that’s the current plan.”
They were paused at a streetlight, waiting for the crosswalk sign. “Let me know when you’re sure. I should be able to make it back for the opening if it’s then.”
His grin was full-on sexy when he flashed it at her. She swore his teeth actually gleamed in the sunlight. Her breath hitched and she glanced away before he caught her staring. Good God. She was pathetically drooling over her brother’s partner. His very gay partner.
She really needed to get laid. Like that was the magical cure for lust run astray.
And that brought her thoughts right back to Scott Walters. Contacting him was out of the question, since she’d told him she wouldn’t. It didn’t matter how many times she’d been tempted to text him, the thought of him viewing her as a clingy groupie made her shudder. She refused to be that person.
But she might’ve jumped into bed with him that night, despite having long outgrown that impulse. Only he’d never made a serious attempt. A fact that bumped him higher on the desirable scale. Not that he was any more attainable than Carter was.
Just her luck.
They were driving onto the highway ramp when Carter tapped her on the arm. “Everything okay?”
She forced the frown from her face with a smile. “Yes. Just thinking.”
“About?”
His prodding wasn’t invasive, more brotherly, but he wasn’t her brother. Maybe that was why she answered a little too honestly. “Love. Life.” Her chuckle was dry with derision. “Nothing major. Really.”
He barked out a laugh. “Nope. Doesn’t sound like it at all.”
“It’s not.” Her grin was honest this time as she shot him a teasing glare. It sometimes still amazed her that her gruff, surly brother had found this charming man to love. “My thoughts were just wandering. Nothing specific.”
“Sure.” There was a note of doubt in his agreement though. “You’re positive you weren’t daydreaming about that hockey player you were glued to the other night?”
Her choked laugh gave her away better than a flat denial. Heat stole over her cheeks and she stubbornly stared out the side window. How old was she? Three? “No.” She still went for the denial.
“And that was convincing.”
He stopped at the end of the exit ramp before turning onto the street. The landscape had quickly changed from the run-down area they’d just left to that of renovated old buildings and artsy shops. In the space of a few miles and a couple of exits, the economic climate had drastically shifted.
Maybe he’d let the subject go if she ignored him. “Isn’t this close to where your first gallery showing was?” Or changed the topic completely.
“That’s not going to work,” he teased. “But yes. It was a few streets down.”
She persevered anyway. “Is it the same gallery that’s working on your next show?” He’d had two shared shows since that first one, but she hadn’t been able to make it up for either of them. All the more reason to make his solo show a priority.
“Yes. The owner has been really good in supporting my work.”
“That’s because your work is good.”
He pressed a hand over his heart. “You humble me.”
She laid her hand on his arm, waiting for him to glance at her. “It’s the truth, Carter. Your pictures tell a story that most people don’t pause long enough to see.”
His smile was squashed by a rare display of shyness. He tucked his chin in, shoved her away, but lightened the brushoff by squeezing her hand. “Thank you.”
“Just telling the truth.”
“Yeah, well...” He checked for traffic then made a right turn. They were closer to where the two men lived and things were familiar now, like the grocery store they’d shopped at. “Now back to you.” Her groan rumbled through the car. “I’m not distracted that easily. Don’t let Rock scare you away from contacting Scott while you’re here.”
Rock had done the whole big brother posturing on the ride home from the wedding reception. One she’d completely ignored except for his begrudging admission that Scott wasn’t one of the known playboys on the team. He’d quickly reiterated the known part, leaving the unknown open for speculation.
She shook her head, a sad swivel that went with her sardonic smile. “I’m not going to contact him.”
“Why not? I’m sure we can get his number if you don’t have it.”
“No!” She nailed Carter with a determined glare. “I’m not that hard up that I need anyone hunting down numbers to get me a date.” The two men definitely didn’t need to know that she already had Scott’s number. And him hers. The man would use it—if he wanted to. If not, she’d be fine. Period.
“Wow.” He glanced at her, brow raised. “Hit a nerve, did I?”
She turned away, teeth clenched against the urge to argue. Was it a touchy subject? She would’ve adamantly denied it a month ago. But now? After being around so many happy, loving couples, maybe. She’d be over it once she returned to her life in Atlanta.
“I’m not going to be another in a line of women who probably chase him all the time,” she said, ignoring Carter’s question. “Plus I’m only visiting.”
“Who said anything about chasing him?”
“Just forget it, okay?” She shot him a smile to ease the harshness of her words. “I’m here to hang out with you guys, not spend it with some random guy.”
Carter turned into a parking lot behind a brick building and waited until he’d cut the engine to speak. He shifted to face her, stalling her exit with a hand to her arm. “Thank you for visiting, Rachel. It means a lot to Rock and me that you’re here.”
It hadn’t been easy on their family since Rock had come out. Their older brother, RJ, and father flat out refused to speak of Rock, and their mother changed the subject whenever she brought Rock up. Bu
t his pictures hadn’t been removed from the collage on her parents’ wall. As for any of them actually speaking to each other, that hadn’t happened either.
She was the go-between that kept her family together. A role that was sometimes exhausting, but she was unwilling to relinquish it.
“Of course,” she reassured him, remembering one of her whimsical thoughts. “He was my backup plan, you know.” Carter’s confused look had her chuckling. “Rock was the one I was going to travel and be single with when we got old. Then he went and found you, came out and is now blissfully happy in coupledom.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh, hand flopping over her heart. “Now I’m destined to become the crazy cat lady who lives alone with her horde of animals and stacks of romance novels for company.”
Carter stifled his laughter for a brief moment before it burst free in a harsh snort and gurgling laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand in a failed attempt to control his outburst. His eyes danced with humor that tugged at the smile on her lips. She stubbornly raised her brow, arms crossing in challenge, and refused to give in.
“It wasn’t that funny,” she insisted, admonishment heavy. “And I’ll have you know that my spare room is already lined with bookshelves full of novels.”
“Sorry.” He raised a hand and worked to get his laughter under control, which included a few swipes at the moisture in his eyes. “But the idea of you wasting away by yourself is just too funny. If anything, you’d sell your stuff and travel the world on your own.”
He had a point. The Fielding mentality didn’t adhere to weakness or defeatists. Plus, being single had never stopped her from doing what she wanted. She’d always scorned the idea that she had to have a man at her side before she could own a house or travel or have a full life. A man wasn’t required for any of that.
And requirements had nothing to do with desires and emotions. Dreams and wants. She didn’t plan to spend her life alone, and that was slowly becoming more of a reality than she cared to think about.
