As much as I will always love her, I can’t live another day with a woman who continues to disappoint me. I need to start afresh, and that begins with handing her the divorce papers.
Eventually, after much emotional stalling, I finally pull into the driveway. As soon as I step into the house that’s felt more like a lonely fortress than a home for longer than I care to remember, I know immediately something is wrong. Call it a sixth sense, or whatever, but the air around me feels stifling.
The sound of glass smashing comes from the direction of the living room followed by panicked cursing from a male voice, and I know.
I just fucking know.
I rush into the living room, and I’m halted to the spot when I’m greeted with what has kept me awake night after night.
The divorce papers fall from my grasp and drop to the floor.
The grave my wife has been digging for years has just gotten a hell of a lot deeper.
A naked man hovers over my wife, hysterically begging her to wake up, while Olivia lies lifelessly on the floor, her skin pale white with foam forming from her mouth.
My eyes flicker to the coffee table, and I almost vomit at the sight of a syringe, spoon, lighter, and pure white powder.
Motherfucker.
“Get the fuck away from my wife!” I yell, finally kicking into action.
I all but haul him off her, throwing him flat on his ass. I barely give him a second glance as I kneel beside her and check her pulse. She’s alive but barely, her pulse extremely weak.
My first aid training quickly sets in, and I try to clear her airways by removing as much of the foam from her mouth as I can before I place her into the recovery position. Then, I grab a blanket from the sofa and cover her with it.
The strange guy begins to mumble through his drug-induced stupor, but I cut him off by snapping at him, “How long has she been unconscious?”
“Wh-what?”
“I said, how long as she been passed out for?” I take out my cell phone and quickly fumble with it as I prepare to call for an ambulance.
“Um…a few minutes, maybe five. I don’t know what happened. We were just…you know, partying, and she just collapsed on me,” he says, his voice strained as he looks down at Olivia with tears in his eyes.
He looks terrified. He looks incredibly young, too, maybe just out of college.
Jesus Christ.
“Did you call an ambulance?”
“Um, no, I was trying to wake her up. Shit. Is she dead? She’s dead, isn’t she?” he shrieks with horror.
I let out an irritated breath as I dial 911. Instead of answering him, I speak to the emergency services. After explaining to them what’s happened and before I finish the call, they already have an ambulance dispatched with an ETA of five minutes.
I glare at the guy when I see he’s still walking around fully naked. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-one.”
What the hell was she thinking?
“Did you bring these drugs to Olivia?”
“Olivia? Who’s Olivia?”
“Are you fucking shitting me right now?” I yell, causing him to flinch. It’s taking everything within me not to pummel this guy’s face in.
“She said her name was Rebecca,” he says almost to himself.
That’s when I see him trembling, and since it’s June, it’s safe to say, it isn’t because of the weather.
“Did you take a hit of that?” I ask, nodding my head in the direction of the heroin paraphernalia on the coffee table. I’m praying he says no because, if they shared the same syringe, I will lose my shit.
He rapidly shakes his head. “No.”
“Did you take anything?” I all but snarl at him.
“No. I’ve just been drinking.”
Okay, so the dude isn’t high, just drunk.
“Are you a drug dealer?”
Again, he rapidly shakes his head. “No.”
“Well then, I have no need to report you to the authorities. Now, get the hell out!”
He seems to hesitate, looking down at her like a lost little puppy. “Um…I, um…”
His reluctance sets me off. “Look, I don’t know who you are to my wife. Quite frankly, I don’t give a shit, but you have three seconds to get your naked ass out of my house, or so God help me, you’ll be leaving here in a fucking body bag. Now, fucking leave!” I scream.
At my threat, he grabs his clothes and he runs out the door as naked as the day he was born. After I hear the slam of the front door, silence surrounds me, and I glance down at my beautifully broken wife. My heart smashes into a thousand pieces. I brush her blonde hair behind her ear. When I feel how cold her face is with my fingers, I check her pulse again, and when I can’t detect a single beat, the anger I’ve kept buried for years, comes tearing out of my chest on a growl.
“Goddamn it, Olivia! You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to leave our marriage this way. You can’t die after cheating on me, high as a kite on fucking heroin. I’m not going to let you. You don’t get to do this to me, you fucking bitch. You can’t fucking die!”
In that moment, the biggest achievement of my life quickly becomes my greatest regret because my career did this.
It killed her.
I killed her.
Nuthin’ But a “G” Thang
Five Months Later
Kaelyn
When I enter my favorite sports bar, I smile and wave as I spot my friend Penelope at the other side of the bar. I ignore the wolf whistles from the drunk guys as I walk through the bar before seating myself in the vacant seat beside her. Instantly, I’m greeted with a shot of tequila with a wedge of lime balanced on the top.
“I see we’re starting with the hard stuff,” I say with a raised brow, smiling.
“You’re mending a broken heart and tequila is the only way to fix it.”
I bark out a laugh. “I am not mending a broken heart. It’s a little bruised, but the end of my relationship with Teddy is a good thing.”
“I’m not talking about that douche bag. I’m talking about the Cowboys losing against the Steelers.” She points in the direction of the overhead screen.
My head whips toward the TV, and I see I’ve missed the entire game. Ergh. I need to stop teaching on Sunday nights!
“Shit, they lost?”
“Yep, and it was painful to watch,” Penelope says with a wince as she takes a sip of her beer.
“Now, I am heartbroken. The tequila was a good call.” I bring the shot glass to my lips and lick the salt from the rim before gulping it down. I quickly suck the lime before my eyes roll to the back of my head.
I’m not into many sports, but I’m kind of a football fanatic, thanks to my brothers and dad. It’s not so much as I love it; it’s that, after years of having to endure the game, it’s now ingrained into my every being, an obsession, a part of me.
“How was your class?” she asks once I’ve flagged the bartender for another shot.
“It was good, although I had a few new ladies start, and let’s say, they don’t know their asses from their elbows. It was good fun, even though one of them will have a bruise the size of Texas on her ass tomorrow.” I laugh as the bartender sets down another tequila. I thank him before throwing it back, finishing it off with a suck of lime.
I’m a yoga and pole dancing instructor. I teach yoga Monday through Wednesday and pole dancing on Saturday and Sunday evenings, although the Sunday evenings are starting to get in the way of the football season. It’s why I’m in yoga pants and a football shirt, as I rushed here straight after class. It was a wasted effort since all I’m left with are the highlights of what looks like was a shit-poor game.
I order another drink, this time a beer. If I keep throwing back the tequila, I’ll be useless tomorrow, and nobody wants a hungover yoga teacher hurling everywhere.
“So, do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“You know,” she points out.
And, unfortunately, I do know.
“There’s nothing to say,” I stubbornly retort, taking hold of the beer bottle the bartender has set in front of me.
“Kaelyn, you were with the guy for over a year. You’ve got to be feeling something akin to sadness or anger.”
I take a long sip of beer before fully turning to her since the TV screen is too depressing for words.
“I found the guy in bed with a chick, and you know what I feel? Glad. Happy even. He’s done nothing but mess around on me since day one. I’m glad I finally had the balls to dump him once and for all. Good riddance, is all I can say.”
“Attagirl.” Penelope smiles with pride before tapping her beer bottle against mine.
I might be lying—well, just a little.
I am happy to be free of a relationship with a pretty-boy asshole who only gave me his attention when I was bouncing on his cock. But a small part of me—the prideful and insecure girl deep in the depths of me—is hurting. In the early days I thought for a little while he could be the one, but when he relocated from Austin to Dallas to be nearer to me, his true colors began to shine. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught Teddy with another woman. It’d happened a few days before New Year’s Eve last year. I broke up with him on the spot…but the charmer he was, I gave him another shot.
What an idiot I was to think a leopard could change their spots.
I’m not one for giving second chances. I’m a big believer of the saying, Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me, and if you fool me that second time, there is no going back. I’ve been hurt too many times in the past, and though it might make me a little cynical, I have to protect my heart, too.
I just wish my being with Teddy hadn’t ruined his friendship with Drew, my best friend’s fiancé. Well, not so much as my being with him, but Teddy ruining everything with me. Drew was the one who first introduced us, and now, he feels somewhat responsible for the way things ended. It’s sweet, but how would he have known his friend was a two-timing shitbag?
Honestly, I don’t even want to think about Teddy anymore. I just want to enjoy my beer and focus on the future, which, right now, only involves perving on the NBA players gracing the screen in front of me and the plate of nachos I’m about to devour. The plus side of being a fitness guru is that I can burn it off in the morning.
A couple of more beers down and my belly full of food, I stand and head toward the jukebox they have in the center of the bar. It has only ’90s R&B and hip-hop songs. I’m talking Toni Braxton, Monica, Montell Jordan, Blackstreet, and Tupac—the works. The owner of the bar is kind of obsessed with all things ’90s, and it goes with the theme of the bar. It’s filled with ’90s sports memorabilia, including sports jerseys signed by the likes of Emmitt Smith, Jerry Rice, Michael Jordan…and that’s all the ’90s sports players I’m actually familiar with. I told you, I’m a football girl. I only watch the other sports for the hot guys.
I spend over ten dollars on the jukebox, and when I return to Penelope, she laughs when she sees I’m rapping “Nuthin’ But a ‘G’ Thang” along with Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg.
“You forget what day it is most days, yet you know every single word to ‘Nuthin’ But a ‘G’ Thang.’”
“What can I say? I’m special like that.” I wink before grabbing my bottle and using it as a pretend mic while I slay the shit out of this song. After a few beers, I get real loose with my lips, MC-style.
Once the song has finished, I burst out laughing as I get a round of applause by the other patrons around the bar and a free shot of tequila from the bartender. Telling myself it’ll be the last shot of the night, I throw it back, but as I suck the lime into my mouth, my eyes flicker to the opposite side of the bar, and I suddenly struggle to find my breath. My heart stills in my chest before setting off into a gallop. Staring at me with bright blue eyes, a baseball cap hiding his dark hair, a light smirk on his beautiful, rugged face is a guy I never thought I’d ever see again.
Chase Henderson.
Most know him as the recently retired hockey player for the Dallas Stars.
I, however, know him as the insanely gorgeous guy I met last year at a New Year’s Eve pajama party. The only reason I attended the party—or more accurately, dragged there by my best friend, Jo—was because my original plans with Teddy were ruined, thanks to him being a cheating asshole, and Jo didn’t want me spending New Year’s Eve wallowing in tears and ice cream.
So, she dragged me along with her boyfriend—now fiancé—and her son, Junior, to Junior’s aunt Mia and uncle Tyler’s home for a New Year’s Eve PJ party.
Chase arrived somewhat later that evening, and as soon as my eyes fell on him, I quickly forgot all about my heartache. Everyone looked starstruck to be in his presence, but since I had no idea who he was, I found myself starstruck in a completely different way. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was gorgeous, but the fact that he entered the kitchen wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles onesie told me he didn’t care about his looks in the slightest. I liked that about a guy.
Then, with a single glance in my direction and his eyes meeting mine, everything around me stopped and faded into the background, and I couldn’t breathe. My heart rate skyrocketed, my palms began to sweat, and the space between us charged with so much electricity that it was a surprise my hair didn’t rise with static. I felt alive with nerves, and I had never felt that with a man before. Until him, no other man had ever made me nervous. I’d always been confident with men, even the most gorgeous of men. Ever since discovering boys as a teenager, I’d never been afraid of my sexuality, but with him…I was terrified.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him, yet it took me almost an hour to get the nerve to talk to him.
It’s hard to explain; it wasn’t just his looks I was drawn to, but something made me curious about him. Although he was hiding behind one hell of a strong facade, I could see he was battling with a struggle, something he didn’t let people easily see. I knew he was something special, as he made me nervous as hell.
I remember nudging Mia as Tyler got Chase a drink and asked her in a hushed whisper, “Who the hell is he?”
She replied with, “That’s Tyler’s friend, Chase Henderson. He plays for the Dallas Stars.”
“He’s a hockey player?” I asked with amazement.
I glanced at him again, and as I took in the bulk of his muscles and the large build of his six-foot-two frame, it was obvious he played sports. He was a fucking beast.
“Yep, and with the way Tyler raves on about him, he’s incredible.”
My eyes drifted to his, and when I found his eyes on me, I gave him a shy smile, and my knees almost buckled when he sexily grinned back. I don’t think I’d ever smiled coyly at a guy in my entire life, but nerves attacked every living cell in my body, just looking at him.
I quickly averted my eyes and returned my attention back to Mia, who was smiling wide at me.
“He’s gorgeous, huh? Unfortunately, he’s married.”
That made me frown. I glanced back over to him, focusing on his ring finger, and my heart sank when I saw a golden band. I didn’t understand how I could be disappointed to learn he was married, especially since I hadn’t even had a conversation with the guy. He was just a stranger to me.
However, it didn’t stop me from following him with my eyes every few minutes, and every single one of those minutes, I found his eyes on me, too, so I began to wonder how happily married he was. Seeing how his wife wasn’t at the party and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off me either, I was thinking it might not be that happy of a marriage.
However, I don’t mess around with married guys whether they’re in a happy marriage or not.
I knew he was a stand-up guy though because I was wearing a pair of PJs that had Hug Me sprawled across my chest, and he was the only person who didn’t take advantage of it. Even though he was the only guy I wished would.
It wasn’t until later, when I finally fou
nd the courage to speak to him, that we spent the rest of the evening talking.
During those few hours, I realized how lucky his wife was. He was charming, sweet, sensitive, and so funny. We had an immediate connection—so much so that, when he left, I had a new ache in my chest. I’d never experienced anything on that kind of level before, but he was married, so I knew it would never turn into anything more.
A week later, I ended up getting back with Teddy.
And that now leads me to this moment, eleven months later. The pity I was feeling about the breakup just earlier vanishes because as I look at Chase from the other side of the bar, I realize I felt more things in one evening with him than I ever did with Teddy.
My eyes flicker down to his hand holding a bottle of beer, and my heart expands at the sight of his bare ring finger.
Hmm, no ring. Interesting.
I glance back at him and finally smile.
“Jesus fuck, is that Chase Henderson?” Penelope almost shrieks down my ear. I turn my attention from him to my friend. “It is, isn’t it? Holy shit, and he’s looking right at you. No, in fact, he’s eye-fucking you.”
I return my gaze to Chase, and a shiver runs down my spine at his intense stare. Immediate heat flushes my cheeks, and I nervously throw back the rest of my beer before garnering the courage to walk over to him. I honestly didn’t think I’d get the chance to ever see him again. I thought he was a fleeting moment, a one-night kind of guy, the guy I would look back on and remember how it felt to fall in love and have my heart broken within a matter of mere hours.
I don’t know if I actually fell in love with him or if it was more of an infatuation. I’m going to say the latter because who falls in love within just minutes and especially with someone they haven’t even kissed? But I know I couldn’t stop thinking about him for weeks after, even when I was back with Teddy.
“I’m going to go and say hi.”
She grabs hold of my arm in an almost viselike grip. “Do you even know who that is?” she questions in a hysterical whisper, as if I’m out of my goddamn mind for contemplating speaking to someone of his stature.
My Forever (Our Forever Book 3) Page 2
