“Don’t take it personal, Skipper,” Jax assured, slapping Trevor on the shoulder. “It’s a delicate situation. She’ll come around.”
Without another word, Alivia weaved through the crowd on the dance floor, grabbing Chelsea by the arm. Walking her slowly back to the high top, she sat her down in the seat.
“Excuse us, gentlemen.”
Vacating the table as they were told, Trevor placed a small kiss on Chelsea’s cheek, but she didn’t even look at him as he walked with Jax to the bar, meeting Shay.
“Spill it,” Alivia ordered loud enough over the music, pinning Chelsea with a look. The lounge was in full swing and if she was confident that she could get Chelsea outside in one piece, she would have had this conversation somewhere quieter.
“I need another one,” Chelsea yelled before burping. “Of these thingies,” she waved an empty shot glass in the air towards the waitress.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Alivia took the shot glass before it was dropped on the ground, or worse, refilled.
“Chels,” she tried getting her attention, stopping her from dancing in her seat. “What is going on with you?”
“I just want to have fun!” Chelsea screamed, swaying her arms into the air.
“Okay, but why do you have to be bombed to do it?” she asked, shaking her head. She had never seen Chelsea like this before, neither one of them ever drank to get drunk; a little tipsy maybe, but never drunk. Buzzed Chelsea was funny, drunk Chelsea was a complete mess.
“Fine,” she sighed, leaning back her seat. “I’ll just have to call your future mother-in-law and ask what she said this time to get you all worked up.”
Checking her phone in case Magda or the girls needed her, she glanced up finding Chelsea staring at her through weak eyes, fearful her friend was going to fall off the chair. She was quiet a moment, her eyes beginning to fill, like Alivia knew they would.
“Sweetie, talk to me,” she said rubbing Chelsea’s arm.
“I miss them,” she said over the music, her lip trembling. A woman as genuine and loving as Chelsea did not deserve to be continuously punished by her parent’s stubbornness. They were so set in their ways allowing it to interfere with their relationship with their only daughter and their only grandchild. Chelsea’s father was a minister and her brother, Charles, was following in his footsteps. Her mother was as quiet and conservative as they came so the fact that Chelsea was engaged to a non-Christian athlete who happened to get her pregnant before marriage, was reason enough to have written Chelsea off as an embarrassment. She knew it was a long shot, but she still had an invitation for the wedding sent to her family earlier than the rest of the guests only because she wanted them to have more time to contemplate their decision. It had been sent back almost immediately, declining the invite. Of course, Chelsea didn’t know that.
“I know hunny,” Alivia said, taking the glass of ice water from Jax. “Here drink this,” she said holding the glass for Chelsea to sip. “Slowly.”
“Mm,” Chelsea moaned before gulping down more. When she was done she closed her eyes, placing her head in her hands.
“I’ve been fighting this whole big wedding because the truth is,” she said collecting herself, “the truth is, the day is just going to be one big reminder that my mother won’t see me in my dress and my daddy won’t be giving me away,” she sniffed, slurring her words a bit. “And my baby brother won’t see me get married.”
Tears running down her face, Alivia knew it was just a matter of time before Chelsea broke down. She had pushed it all under the rug for so long as if it didn’t bother her, but Alivia was glad it was happening now and not the day of the wedding. She just knew that Chelsea’s reservations about the big wedding had nothing to do with Trevor and everything to do with her family.
“There is still time, sweetie. They will come,” she assured.
Getting the Shaws to the wedding would require a small miracle, figuring she could just add dream catcher to her list of credentials. Never one to make promises she couldn’t keep, she assured Chelsea again that her mama and papa would see her get married, just in time to watch her fall sideways off the stool.
* * *
Walking into the Mavericks’ offices, Jax was beat. The night before had been a lot of fun and exactly what everyone had needed, but rounding the corner to the bank of elevators inside the building, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to his meeting with the teams’ owner. Simon Flynn was a nice enough man. Had always taken care of Jax, but with the history between him and Flynn’s daughter and the six month restraining order he had placed on Vanessa after the infidelity set up, he and his boss weren’t as solid as he would have liked to be with the guy signing his paychecks. Fortunately, Vanessa had decided to wait until after his franchise contract had been signed before she pulled her last stunt, attempting to tarnish both his reputation and marriage. The thought of it making the back of his skull tighten.
The elevator bell rang and he walked inside pushing the sixth floor button.
“Hold the door,” someone called out, sounding a lot like Liv. When his lovely wife came running around the corner, he smiled at her standing in front of the door he was holding.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly.
“Hi.”
Stepping inside the elevator, she pushed the fifth floor button quickly. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Stealing her hand he pulled her against him as soon as the door shut. “Weren’t you just in our bed naked like an hour ago?”
Biting her lip, she pulled him down for a kiss, her lips tasting like cherry. Sliding her hand behind his head, she deepened the kiss, catching him by surprise. Tempted to push the damn emergency button to stop the elevator from moving, he contemplated having his way with his wife right there against the wall between the second and third floor; regardless of the picture of him holding the Lombardi trophy with his coach from two years ago staring back at them from inside the elevator. She looked so damn hot though. Felt hot too. Her black dress too sexy to be walking around the Mavs’ complex in, even with the bright jacket over top.
“Why do you have to look so damn sexy?” he groaned into her neck. She smelled good too. Like tropical fruit. And damn near good enough to eat.
“I do not look sexy,” she chuckled. “I have meetings all day and because of you,” she said poking his chest lightly, “I was super late this morning and threw on the first thing I could find.”
“Hey, don’t blame me for your chronic lateness.”
“Well you should have kicked me out of bed,” she said, scrunching her nose.
“Sweetheart, the only reason I would ever kick you out of my bed,” he whispered, running his hands over her smooth ass, “would be to fuck you on the floor.”
The elevator bell ringing above them, Liv blinked back at him, her baby blues looking as turned on as he felt.
“I may just hold you to that.”
The doors swinging open, she pushed off his chest lightly, not taking her eyes off him walking backwards out the elevator.
“Have a good meeting, Captain.”
Disappearing around the corner, he watched her go. She was being a tease. And it was working. The elevator door closing again, he adjusted his pants. The things she did to him had him damn near foolish. Looking at his watch, he mentally counted the number of hours he had until he could get her naked and in bed…or in the shower…or perhaps that floor?
Stepping onto the sixth floor, he made his way down the long hallway towards Flynn’s office. He didn’t know what his boss wanted to discuss since there was still three months until training camp, a meeting with the owner during the off- season was unusual, but when the team owner asked for a meeting, you didn’t ask questions. Reaching for the glass doors, he paused.
Shit.
Growling to himself, he opened the heavy door, as Vanessa looked up from where she rested against the desk, flipping through papers he was sure she shouldn’t have been looking through.
> “Jax,” her mouth lifted looking up at him. “It must be my lucky day.”
Looking him up and down, she crossed her thin arms across her chest. He hated the way she looked at him. Like she was conjuring up another agenda or scheme. And most of the time, she had been.
“Vanessa,” he returned curtly, stopping a few feet from the desk, “Is Helen here?”
“No.”
“How about your father?” he asked, looking beyond her at the incredible view of the marina that the owner of the team had from his office.
“Daddy is going to be a minute,” she said sweetly, too sweetly, pushing off the large desk coming towards him. The sounds of her shoes clicked across the office and he held out his hand.
“I’ll wait outside,” he said heading back for the door. There was no way he was going to sit inside a room while she tried to shoot the shit like she hadn’t tried to ruin him. Like she hadn’t tainted the reputation he had worked his entire career to build. It had only taken twenty-four hours for his name and character to go from class-act and role model to cheating bastard and the butt of late night talk show jokes.
“Did you want to grab lunch?”
What the hell?
“No.”
Wishing he could just blow off the meeting with Flynn, he reached for the door.
“Why do you hate me, Jax?” Vanessa asked quickly, stopping him in his tracks.
Gritting his teeth, he took his hand off the long door handle, looking over his shoulder. Were they really going to get into this right now? Here? Turning around finding her standing in the middle of the office with her hands on her tiny hips, he was silent a minute. Narrowing in on her, he looked for any remnants of the old Vanessa. The light-hearted city girl who had dreams of coming out of her father’s shadow and making her own name for herself. But there wasn’t any. He had felt bad for her at one time, when she had claimed that he had broken her heart before meeting Liv. But it was no excuse. The woman had single handedly almost ruined his marriage and his reputation, simultaneously. A reminder that she was going to be a permanent hemorrhoid in his life until the day he retired.
Jax laid in the hotel bed unable to move. The Mavericks played the worst game of the season against the Steelers, landing him in an ice bath as soon as the 31-7 game was over. Every inch of him hurt. Even breathing. Staring at the white ceiling, he waited for the soreness to somehow disappear, praying that he wouldn’t need to go to the bathroom because that would involve movement. He had called Liv and the girls after he got back to the room, but they had said they were tired and were going to bed. Liv looked drained… and sad. She held back tears from him over Skype and it broke his heart. It killed him that he had to be on the road so much. And when he wasn’t in another city playing, he was at the complex training, working out or going over game film. His wife was going through something and she needed him and his team needed him and he was struggling. His head hadn’t been in the game lately either, completely stinking up the field. He loved Liv and had begged her to talk to him or to a doctor, but she refused claiming that she was fine. Running around on autopilot and secretly crying was not fine. And certainly not healthy. She was throwing herself into work, taking on way too much.
He had watched his mother go through depression and take her own life and he would be lying to himself if he wasn’t terrified of Liv going down that same road. She hadn’t turned to drugs or alcohol, she was just weak, frazzled and running herself into the ground enough to still scare the shit out of him. He missed his vivacious wife. Her laugh, her smile and how happy she made the girls and everyone around her. He missed seeing her sit in his box at home games and surprising him at his hotel room at away games. He missed his wife. He didn’t know how to fix this and it was killing him watching her wither away. Trevor and Chelsea suggested giving her time to ask for help and be supportive and that she’d come to the realization that she needed some help, but that hadn’t been working either. Letting out a deep breath of frustration, his muscles burned at the rise and fall of his chest. He was running out of ways to help her. He wanted to fix all her problems, knowing full well that he couldn’t.
Hearing a small knock at the door, he groaned. It had better not be one of his teammates asking for him to get food. He made it very clear on the bus back to the hotel that he didn’t want to be bothered.
“Who is it?” he growled. The last thing he wanted to do was move even an inch, let alone get up and open the door. Trevor had gone down to the lobby to check on Chelsea since she had just given birth two weeks prior, but even so, he had a room key. Easing himself up, he rested off the edge of the bed, letting his head fall into his hands, resting a second.
Hearing another knock at the door, he stood up, his muscles burning with each step he took. His legs feeling like sandbags.
“I’m coming.”
Swinging open the door, he found Vanessa standing on the other side in the tightest dress he had ever seen. She hadn’t changed much since the last time he had seen her at the Mavericks holiday party where they left early because she had harassed Liv in the bathroom. She had been sending him emails lately about how she wasn’t giving up on him; his only response had been changing his address. Staring back at him, she grinned and he knew she was up to no good. He was in no mood for her bullshit. His body hurt, his wife was unraveling and he had just played the shittiest game of his career. He did not have the patience to deal with an unstable ex-girlfriend inappropriately knocking on his hotel door.
“What are you doing here, Vanessa?” he scowled, leaning on the door for support.
“Well hello to you too, Cap.” she stepped closer into the door.
“What do you want?” he sighed blocking her from entering. Patience wearing and temper rising, he did not want to be anywhere near the team owner’s daughter. He didn’t trust her and her ridiculous delusions about them getting back together and living happily ever. Because it was just that. A delusion.
“To see if you needed any consoling after that rough game,” she ran her finger down his chest, stopping on his stomach. Looking up at him, she rose a brow. “Come on Jax, we both know how this works. You have a bad game, you need some TLC, your wife’s not here,” she trailed off. “But I am.”
Shaking his head, he moved to close the door in her face. Driving forward she slammed into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck before kissing him. Cursing against her harsh lips pressed violently against him, he was temporarily paralyzed from the pain radiating from her crashing into him. Grabbing her shoulders he pushed her away before getting assaulted with a rapid fire of flashing bulbs.
Shit.
Pushing Vanessa off of him, she stood there as if he had just soul kissed her adjusting her dress, a man continuing to snap photos.
“You’ll thank me for this,” she winked turning away. “I promise.”
She had set him up.
Slamming the door against the man snapping photos while running down the hallway, he rested his sore body against the cold aluminum door. He was in deep shit. God only knew who the photographer was and who he would sell the pictures to, but he had a bad feeling he’d be finding out all too soon. The scene looked believable enough, he was wearing nothing but underwear, he had just played the worst game of his life and now a photographer had pictures of Vanessa leaving his hotel room.
Shit.
This was bad.
So fucking bad.
“Hate is a strong word, Vanessa,” Jax said sharply, guessing that they were going to get into it. Right here. Right now. In his boss’s office. He didn’t hate anyone. Except maybe his father.
“You broke into my house and Liv walked in on you naked in my bed,” he clenched his jaw at the memory. “Then you proceed to stage a ridiculous scene where the whole world thinks I’m a lying bastard who is cheating on his wife,” he said louder, inching towards her. If she was nervous at how angry he was, she didn’t show it, completely unfazed as he stopped in front of her, pinning her with a lo
ok. “And should we bring up all the times you have harassed my wife?”
Looking back at him bored, she rolled her eyes.
“First off, it isn’t breaking in if you leave your spare key in the same spot you used to in college,” she sighed picking at her nail. “And second, you are a lying bastard,” she said plastering on a fake smile. “You lied to me, remember? When you told me that you loved me.”
This woman made his blood boil and he didn’t understand why she couldn’t have just stayed in California where she had apparently been over the last year and a half instead of coming back looking for more trouble.
“Why are you back Vanessa?” he glared, getting more irritated. He didn’t trust this woman. Not for a minute.
“Because, that silly restraining order you had put on me has expired and I wanted to come back and be with my family and friends again,” she shrugged innocently. “Plus,” she smirked placing her hands on his chest. “I wanted to give you one last shot,” she breathed through her large lips, the feel of her hands on him again, making his skin crawl. “At us.”
Wrapping his hands around her wrists, he held them a second. He was running out of ways to convince this woman to leave him and his family the hell alone. She needed to stop this. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he felt her body straighten.
“Is that so?”
Nodding slowly, he felt her breathing pick up.
“It’s never going to happen, Vanessa,” he hissed, pushing her hands off of him. Startled, he knew he had thrown her off. Good, that was his intention. Walking past her, he opened his boss’s door. Most people assumed Vanessa Flynn was an ignorant rich girl, but she didn’t fool him. He knew all too well when it came to getting what she wanted she was too smart, too ruthless and had no problem playing dirty.
False Start (Mavericks #1) Page 25
