In Too Deep

by Lexi Ryan

  Present day . . .

  “Are you making yourself comfortable in my son’s house?”

  “Right now, I couldn’t be more uncomfortable.” I give him a tight smile. “Thanks for asking.”

  He rocks back on his heels and tucks his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to explain why we’re in the same room together again? I’m assuming you have some sort of explanation.”

  “Um, because you drove over here and walked in the front door like you own the place?”

  His eyes blaze. He never was a fan of my sarcasm. “Why are you in my son’s life? In his house? Why are you married to him when you promised me—”

  “I know what I promised.” I swallow, hating the devil in front of me and the deal we made. “We’re married because we were in Vegas and I was drunk.”

  “Yeah, I saw the video. Along with the rest of the world.”

  I curl my hands into fists at my sides, and my nails bite into my palms. “It was a mistake, and we have every intention of dissolving the marriage.”

  “That was clever of you. Get drunk. Marry a rich man. No prenup and the perfect excuse to break your promise.”

  How could Mason have come from this man? Mason, who is so warm and giving, who believes the best of me even when I don’t deserve it. “You always think everyone’s after money, don’t you?”

  Christian arches a brow. “Weren’t you?”

  I don’t answer. The last thing I ever wanted was for Christian Dahl to understand just how much I was giving up when I took his check and agreed to never have a relationship with Mason. I didn’t want him to know how deeply I felt for his son. Now is no different. If he knew, he’d only find a way to use the information to hurt me more.

  There was a point in my life when I didn’t understand what it was like to want things that didn’t cost money. There was a point when all the things I wanted could be bought—a better house, new clothes for school, a car to get to work when I turned sixteen, fancy makeup, the shoes all the girls were wearing. I wanted those things so much I ached with it. But until I made a deal with Christian Dahl, I had no idea what it was like to want something that can’t be bought.

  “What do you want, Bailey?” he asks. “How do I make this go away?”

  “I want a divorce,” I answer honestly, because the little girl who believed in fairytales died a long time ago. I’m Tammy Green’s daughter, and I know what happens when a girl like me tries to live in a world like Mason’s. “We were planning to take care of it. But since you and your friends seem so set on playing matchmaker, Mason wants me to pretend to be his wife for a while.” I cock my head. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? If you weren’t so set on getting your son to marry the right kind of girl, he wouldn’t be trying to draw out his marriage to me.”

  Christian’s nostrils flare, and he folds his arms as he studies me. “You think this is hilarious, don’t you?”

  “I don’t find anything amusing about a situation that makes me have to talk to you.”

  His eye twitches. “You said you’re going to dissolve the marriage. When, exactly, do you plan on making that happen?”

  “He wants me to move in until the end of the regular season.”

  A phone buzzes, and Christian pulls his cell from his pocket and frowns at it before looking back up at me. “You do what you have to do. Move your ass, be his wife, show him you’re not who he thinks you are, and then get the divorce. Try to keep out of the press. We don’t need any more attention on this embarrassing situation than you’ve already had.” He looks me over, disgust curling his lip. “Maybe time with you under his roof is just what he needs to realize you’re the trash I know you are.”

  The words take me back to when I was seven and got in a fight with a mean girl at school because she’d called my mom “trash.” I came home all teary-eyed and snotty with scraped-up palms from where I’d caught myself when she pushed me. Sarah had cleaned me up. “Don’t waste your energy trying to change people’s opinions of her. We can’t undo the choices she made.” The stern line of her mouth told me she blamed Mom and not the mean girl, and for the first time, my perspective of my world shifted as I realized that even my own sister couldn’t forgive our mother for her choices.

  “If the new year comes and you’re still here, I’ll make sure everyone knows your secrets. All of them. Do I make myself clear?”

  My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let this man see. “Crystal.”

  Bailey: I’m not implying that all it takes to win me is a couple of toaster pastries, but you got the kind with SPRINKLES. So, I guess I’m moving in.

  I reread the text a dozen times to make sure I’m not imagining things. A grin stretches across my face. I can’t help it. She’s telling me exactly what I want to hear. Maybe she’s only agreed to a few months, but she’s giving me the chance to get her out of Blackhawk Valley for good. The chance to have more time with her.

  I tamp down the second thought. Bailey’s made it clear what she does and doesn’t want from me. Expecting that to change now is asking for heartache.

  “Have a picture of a naked woman on there or what?” Owen says, tossing me a towel.

  “Not a naked woman, but a text from Bailey. She’s going to move in.”

  Owen grunts. “Of course she is. She looks at you like you’re a fucking mythical hero. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind.”

  I shake my head and wipe my face and neck with the towel on the way to the locker room. “Nothing’s ever that simple when it comes to Bailey.”

  I sit down on a bench in the locker room, ignoring Owen’s laughter. I can’t stop smiling, and reply with the only thing left to say.

  Me: Of course I got the ones with sprinkles, and there’s more where that came from.

  My heart is racing as I knock on the door, but I tuck my hands in my pockets and promise myself that I have every right to be here, that I’m not doing anything wrong by showing up unannounced at my sister’s house.

  If she’s seen the video of me and Mason in Vegas, she hasn’t contacted me to ask about it. I don’t think it’s going to score me any points with my uptight big sis, so it’s probably best if I tell her before she does. Preferably in person, so I can see on her face just how much ground I’ve lost in my tireless efforts to win her approval.

  The door swings open, and I’m greeted by my sister’s bright white smile. A smile that falls away as soon as she sees me. “Bailey. What are you doing here?”

  “I was in the neighborhood.” I try to keep my expression neutral. Defensiveness doesn’t get me anywhere, and I don’t think she’d be thrilled if I admitted I was afraid she might not call after Faith’s dance class like she promised. “I thought I’d stop by and see you and Faith . . . if you’re not busy.”

  “We talked about doing this tonight,” Sarah says softly.

  You would have found an excuse to put me off. “Sorry. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

  She arches a single, perfectly plucked blond brow. “Imagine that. You doing something unplanned. I’m guessing that wedding video of yours is more of the same.”

  So she did see it. What is it about family that allows them to take your heart in their fist even when you can protect it from everyone else? I turn up my palms. “What can I say? I’m immature and impulsive.”

  “Aunt Bailey!” My sister winces as Faith rushes around her to race into my arms. “Mommy didn’t tell me you were coming!”

  “It was a surprise.” I scoop her up and smooth her thick black hair as I lower my nose to breathe her in. When I meet my sister’s eyes again, her face is resigned, as if she’s disappointed. She likes to lead her life in a particular way, and that way involves controlling everything around her. Including people. She’s not a bad person, just an obsessive, worried mother.

  “You can’t stay long.” She opens the door to lead me inside. “Faith has dance in an hour, and we need to get ready.”

  I take it for the victory it is and carry Faith into the livi
ng room. I plop down on the couch and settle her onto my lap. “How old are you now?” I ask.

  “I turn six in September!” she announces proudly.

  “No way!” I gasp, as if this information takes me by surprise, as if every second of every day of her life hasn’t been etched into my mind—each moment missed with her paid for with a chunk of my heart, lost forever. “You can’t be more than three, maybe four.”

  “Six! I start kindergarten soon.”

  “Are you sure your birthday’s coming?” I twist up my face. “I could have sworn you had a birthday last year.”

  “I have a birthday every year!” She giggles. “Are you getting old, Aunt Bailey? Is that why you can’t remember? Mommy says when she forgets things it’s because she’s getting old.”

  I lift my gaze to meet my sister’s and, to her credit, she attempts a smile. Her mouth pulls down at the corners, though, and I see the concern there—worry that I might stay too long or ask too much, anxiety that my less-than-savory life choices might somehow ruin this perfect child.

  What my sister doesn’t understand is that she and I are two peas in a pod. We’ve both done whatever we deemed necessary to protect the people we love.

  I shouldn’t be surprised by the way she keeps her walls up. One summer in high school, when Nic had just gone to prison and I needed to get away from Blackhawk Valley for a while, Sarah took me in. That summer, she was everything a big sister should be—nurturing, protective, even adoring. But before and since, she’s preferred to keep me at a distance both physically and emotionally. Mom had us ten years apart, and when Sarah moved away, desperate to find a new life in a place that didn’t know her family, I was just a little girl.

  “How long did you say you were in town?” she asks, and again it feels as if she’s trying to throw up her defenses against me getting too close.

  “I leave tomorrow, but when I come back next month, I’ll stay for a while.” I rub a lock of Faith’s hair between my fingers. “I wanted to talk to you about that before I go.”

  I return my attention to Faith. My sister can direct her judgmental looks in my direction all she wants, but she’s not the reason I’m here. I’m going to soak up every bit of this child I can. “How’s dance?” I ask.

  “Awesome!” Faith says, springing from my lap and demonstrating a pirouette. “I take gymnastics too!” She runs to the wall and kicks up in a handstand.

  Sarah purses her lips. “Must be nice to be able to come and go as you please. I wouldn’t think the people at your job would be okay with that.”

  I bite my tongue only because Faith’s here, but if Sarah and I were alone, I’d snark that the flexible schedule is the upside of being a call girl. She knows I manage The End Zone, but I swear I’ll never live down my choice to take off my clothes for money.

  She turns to Faith, who is upside down again with her feet propped against the wall. “Give Aunt Bailey a hug and go get dressed for dance.”

  Obediently, she kicks down and rushes over to me, wrapping her arms around me. “Stay longer next time. You can sleep on the top bunk,” she whispers, and my heart blossoms at being wanted, only to wilt seconds later as I admit to myself how unlikely it is that I’ll ever be able to make good on that request.

  I kiss her head. “I’ll be back next month to give you a birthday present.”

  “Yay!” She scurries away and up the stairs, taking a piece of my heart with her.

  When I turn back to Sarah, she’s studying me. “Make sure your gift is appropriate for a six-year-old, okay?”

  I cock my head and pretend to pout. “So Stripper Barbie is a no-go?”

  Sarah rolls her eyes. “I don’t let her have Barbies at all. She’s six and doesn’t need hypersexualized dolls manipulating her self-perception.”

  I stand. I wore out my welcome the second I walked in the door, and it’s time for me to leave. “No Barbies. No problem.” I might think she’s being overprotective on this front, but it’s not my place to say, so I keep my mouth shut. Like always.

  “And don’t buy anything too elaborate, please. I’m on a budget, and I don’t want you making it look like I’m cheap.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. “And you think I’m rolling in money? I have creditors breathing down my neck and student loans that’ll follow me to the grave.”

  “And yet a couple of months ago you were in Vegas. Maybe you need to reevaluate where you’re spending your money.” She turns her head to study the wall.

  My best friend, Mia, paid for me to take that trip, but I don’t explain. What’s the point? It was humiliating enough to let Mia pay when I was supposed to be the independent woman, the girl who stripped to pay her way through school. I used paying for college as an excuse to take my clothes off and give lap dances to half the men in my hometown. My friends don’t know I’m up to my ears in student loan debt, and I don’t want them to.

  “Not that any of your money issues are going to matter now that you’re married to an NFL player,” my sister mutters. “Well done, sis.”

  I flinch. If my own sister thinks I’m using this marriage to capitalize on Mason’s wealth, why wouldn’t the rest of the world?

  “She looks happy.” If I just keep the conversation on Faith, Sarah’s judgment won’t get to me so much.

  Sarah nods. “I think she is. I worry so much about her not having a father, but I think it bothers me more than it bothers her.” She takes a long, deep breath, but there’s not enough air in the room to energize a woman who’s been burning the candle from both ends for years and is running out of wax. “We make it work.”

  “You seem tired.”

  “I’ve been working a lot.”

  I’ve been thinking about being closer to Sarah and Faith since Mason first proposed I stay with him, so I take a deep breath and dive in. “So you saw my . . . wedding video?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Me and the rest of the world. So proud of my drunk baby sister.” She gives a sarcastic fist pump.

  I ignore her jab, and the ache that springs in my chest. “I’m going back to Blackhawk Valley, but in a few weeks, I’ll be moving down here. I could . . . maybe I could help out some. If you wanted to have a night out or something, I could—”

  “Don’t do this, Bailey. Whatever is going on between you and that football player, if you’re not sure it’s going to last, don’t make promises about being here.” She shakes her head and looks toward the stairs. “Faith might only see you a couple of times a year, but she’s really attached. Don’t tell her that you’re moving to Florida if it’s not going to be permanent. She already lost her father. I don’t want to have to explain why Aunt Bailey’s leaving, too.”

  I nod and swallow the tangle of emotions I’ve always felt toward my big sister. Maybe I should tell her the truth about my marriage, but it’s so complicated, and I’m afraid the truth will only make her think worse of me and give her more reason to keep me from Faith while I’m down here. “What if we don’t make any promises? I just want to see her more.”

  “And I want some rich NFL player to sweep me off my feet so I can quit my job and live on the beach.” She flinches, then shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired tonight. Let me know when you’re back in town, and we’ll work something out.”

  “Thank you, Sarah.”

  “Fly safe,” she says.

  I head back to my car and spend the drive to Mason’s whispering a prayer that I’m doing the right thing.

  Bailey is dancing in my kitchen. She’s in her Wonder Woman pajamas with the bright red top and the skimpy star-spangled booty shorts. She sways her hips to a Chainsmokers song and mimes singing into a wooden spoon.

  I just walked in the door and have a list I need to tackle before leaving for training camp on Sunday, but all I want to do is stand here and watch her toss her blond hair and be silly.

  She spins, and freezes when she spots me. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough.” I gri
n, and hell, this is good. I like her here. I like her dancing in my kitchen in her ridiculous pajamas. I like that just in this moment, my house feels like home. “Nice moves.”

  She turns up her palms. “What can I say? Years as a”—she mimes air quotes—“‘professional dancer.’”

  “Did you ever use the wooden spoon on stage?”

  She smacks it into her open palm. “Only on customers’ birthdays.” She wriggles her brows and steps closer. “Want to bend over for a demonstration?”

  I laugh. “I’ll pass.” But then I catch the glint of the gold band on her ring finger and my laughter falls away. She’s wearing the ring. I rub my thumb over my own gold wedding band. I pulled them both out this morning and held my breath as I put mine on my finger. I swallow the lump in my throat and decide it’s better not to make a big deal out of her wearing it. But fuck. It feels like a big deal. I look at the timer counting down on the oven. “What’s cooking?”

  “A frozen pepperoni pizza. My personal specialty.”

  “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Not that I’m complaining. I love seeing her smile.

  She shrugs. “I had a good day.” After a beat, she screws up her face and shakes her head. “I just came from seeing my sister and niece.”

  “Your sister is Sarah, right?” I vaguely remember Bailey talking about her once or twice. I’ve never met her. “What’s she doing down here?”

  She nods. “She lives a half-hour from here.” She turns off the timer and grabs a potholder from the drawer. “She never comes home, so I visit a couple of times a year to see her and Faith.”

  She was down here twice last year? Thirty minutes from me and didn’t bother to come see me? That burns. Last year was tough—rookie year always is, and even with Keegan at my side, I felt isolated. I missed Blackhawk Valley and seeing my friends every day. I missed having people I could share my triumphs with and people I could bitch to when things didn’t go my way. I missed Bailey most of all. “How old is your niece?”