A chill danced across her skin, causing the flesh on her arms to pebble. She yanked the sleeves of her sweater down and deliberately ignored the sensation—and the man watching her so carefully. She didn't like Nathan and she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he'd been with Ben in Vegas and knew that their marriage was nothing more than a sham. Of course, he hadn't been the only one of Ben's teammates in Vegas that week. Ryan and Kyle had been there as well and neither one of them bothered her. Then again, neither one of them had looked at her like she was a gold digger who was after whatever money Ben might have. And neither one of them had yelled at Ben in the airport as they walked away, a silent warning in the angry tone of his voice.
She ignored Nathan and tried to focus on the conversation that had drawn her attention in the first place. They were talking about the game, something about some kind of save that Natalie didn't quite understand but knew must have been important. A hand closed over her shoulder and she tensed even though she knew it was Ben. His breath was warm against her skin, his voice a low whisper in her ear.
"I'm getting a drink from the bar. Do you want anything?"
She shook her head and pointed to the glass of watery soda in front of her, ready to tell him she already had a drink. Then she changed her mind. She didn't want soda, she wanted something else. Something a little stronger.
Something to take the sting from the confusing whirl of emotions that she was suddenly so afraid of.
"A margarita, please."
"A margarita?"
"Yes. On the rocks. With extra salt."
Ben didn't bother to hide his surprise but he didn't say anything, just nodded and stood. Something squeezed tight in the center of her chest as she watched him disappear into the thick crowd. Was she really going to allow herself to be upset because he'd asked her why she had kissed him that way? He hadn't meant anything by the question, he'd simply been surprised. And why wouldn't he be? Other than their one night together, she'd never given him any indication that she was interested. Had never taken the initiative to make the first move. Maybe he thought she wasn't interested. Maybe he was afraid to do anything in private because he was worried she'd get upset.
And maybe, instead of sitting here doing nothing, she should go talk to him. He wasn't a mind reader and neither was she. They'd never get anywhere if they didn't talk.
She pushed away from the table, not bothering to excuse herself. The conversation was getting too loud anyway, nobody would even hear her.
The crowd had grown even heavier and it took her longer than she thought it would to weave through the throng. There was a crowd at the bar, too, at least three people deep as the bartenders rushed around to fill the drink orders.
Natalie stood just at the edge, raising up on her toes to scan the bodies as she searched for Ben. He shouldn't be that hard to find—he was at least a head taller than most everyone else and wearing a dark gray suit amid a crowd of people in sweatshirts or flannel shirts.
There he was, at the other end of the bar, his back to her. Natalie called his name but her voice was lost in the noise of the crowd and the music. She swallowed back her impatience, ignored the sense of being crushed, and once more pushed her way through the tangle of bodies.
She finally broke through and breathed a sigh of relief. The relief quickly changed to shock, sharp and bitter.
Ben was still standing where she had seen him moments ago, his back to her—only now, she could see he was with someone. He was leaning forward, slightly bent over as he spoke in a woman's ear. His hand rested on the woman's shoulder with a sense of familiarity that made the breath catch in Natalie's throat. But it wasn't just the way Ben was leaning toward the woman that made her stand there in shock—it was the sight of the woman's hand resting in the middle of his chest, like she had every right to touch him. It was the way the woman's fingers gently, almost absently, stroked the buttons of Ben's shirt, as if she'd done that same exact thing dozens of times before—
Right before ripping the shirt open and sliding her hands all over his body.
How long did Natalie stand there, with her eyes stinging and her face burning? With her stomach clenched against the sour bile twisting it? Long enough that Ben must have sensed her because he straightened and slowly turned around, the crooked smile on his face fading when his eyes met hers.
His mouth moved and she thought he might be calling her name but she couldn't hear, not over the thunderous roaring in her ears. He moved and she shook her head—in denial, in dismay, in disbelief. Then she spun on her heel and pushed through the crowd, intent only on leaving.
Oh God, she needed to get out of here. Needed to get away from Ben. She didn't want to see him. Didn't want to hear whatever lame excuse he might give her. No, they hadn't been doing anything other than talking. But it wasn't what they'd done—it was the familiarity between them. The intimacy insulating them from the rest of the crowd and the way that intimacy screamed that they knew each other. That they were more than casual acquaintances. That they'd been together.
Maybe they still were. Maybe the woman was the elusive girlfriend Natalie had wondered about. Wondered, yes—but she had never thought she really existed.
And God, it hurt. Hurt worse than she thought it would have considering that Ben owed her nothing. To know that he was with someone else. Touching someone else. Being with someone else. God, it hurt.
It was that image that followed her as she pushed and shoved her way across the bar, ignoring the cries of Hey and Watch out. She didn't care about the toes she stepped on or the ribs she elbowed—she only cared about escape.
She made it back to the long grouping of tables, to the gathering of Ben's teammates. Did they know? Had they been laughing at her the entire time?
So what if they did? She didn't care. They weren't her friends. None of them, no matter what she had convinced herself of only an hour earlier.
She ignored the astonished expressions on some of the faces as she grabbed her coat and purse. Ignored her name being called, told herself the concern she heard in the voices was only a figment of her imagination. Wishful thinking.
She needed to get out of here. Now, before she did something completely and utterly foolish. Before she did something totally absurd.
Like cry.
She shoved her arms into her coat as she rushed for the door, focused only on escaping. She had no idea where she was going, didn't care as long as it wasn't here. She could figure it out later, as soon as she put distance between herself and the pain slicing through her.
Between her and this place, filled with people she didn't really know, people she had foolishly started thinking of as friends.
Between her and Ben.
Her husband.
Cold air slammed into her, stinging her face. She reached up, surprised to feel the wetness on her cheeks. She brushed the tears away and hurried from the bar, the heels of her ankle boots echoing like shots against the concrete and asphalt.
Faster. Farther. Away, as far as she could go.
She reached the other side of the parking lot, glanced at the traffic whizzing by. A cab. She needed a cab. Once she found one, she would go back to the condo and pack her bags and leave. Find some way to get to a train station so she could get back to New York.
So she could go home.
But this wasn't New York and there were no cabs and no subways. She couldn't even call for an Uber or a Lyft because she didn't have a phone—or a credit card she could use to pay for the ride. All she had was what left of her small supply of cash: eighty-six dollars and a few coins.
Fine. She'd walk. The condo wasn't too far—she didn't think. She was almost certain she could find her way back. And if she couldn't...well, she'd just find someplace to go for a few hours. Maybe a fast-food place that was open all night, or even a convenience store where she could ask directions.
She'd need to find more cash—she was almost positive a train ticket would be more than what she had on her. Maybe
there was a pawn shop somewhere. She didn't have much of value, just her camera, but it was a good one. Not top of the line but maybe they'd take pity on her and give her fifty dollars for it.
She stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, looked down and saw the light reflecting off the ring on her finger. The wedding band. Why hadn't she thought of that first? She could pawn that instead. It was worthless to her but they'd probably give her more for the ring than they would the camera.
She huddled deeper into the coat and kept going, ignoring the chill of the biting wind, ignoring the cars as they whizzed past her and the blaring of a horn behind her.
The horn sounded again, longer this time. Natalie glanced over her shoulder, squinting against the headlights that blinded her. The car was driving along the shoulder, its flashers on as it caught up to her. Ben's car? She didn't know, couldn't tell from just the headlights.
She turned and walked faster, her eyes skipping around as she looked for someplace to hide. There, on the other side of the street she was approaching—a gas station. If she could get there before Ben, she could run inside, lock herself in the restroom if she needed to. Or she could ask someone filling up to give her a ride. Or—
The car pulled alongside her, the blaring horn startling her enough that she tripped and fell, caught herself at the last minute by placing her hand against the cold concrete. Natalie ignored the stinging in her palm and quickly straightened, hurried her steps. If she could reach the gas station—
"Natalie!" The voice calling her belonged to a woman, the concern clear even above the noise of the passing traffic. Not Ben—Haley.
Natalie stumbled to a stop, wiped her hand across her face and tried to catch her breath. Only when Haley called her again did she turn around, a trembling smile on her face. One look at the worry on Haley's face and the smile crumbled.
Haley leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door. "Get in."
Natalie hesitated but only for a second. She stepped across the frozen grass lining the cracked curb and lowered herself into the car. Warmth immediately surrounded her, draining the last bit of strength from her. She felt Haley's eyes on her, knew the woman was carefully studying her. Did she look as bad as she thought she did? She must, with her tear-streaked face and windblown hair and scraped palm.
Haley was quiet as she maneuvered the car into the traffic. As she leaned over and turned up the heat then aimed the vent in Natalie's direction. Minutes stretched by in silence, so many minutes that Natalie had finally convinced herself that the other woman wasn't going to say anything.
And then she spoke.
"You okay?"
Natalie nodded. Shook her head. Shrugged and nodded again. Was she okay? No, not really...but she would be.
"Did you want to talk about it?"
"No." Her voice was scratchy, the word breaking as it escaped her clogged throat. Silence stretched around them as Haley drove. Natalie didn't pay attention to where. She didn't care, not right now, not as long as Haley wasn't taking her back to Mystic's.
The woman must have read her mind because her hand tightened around the steering wheel for a brief second before she glanced at Natalie. "Where do you want to go? I can take you back to our place—"
"No." The word came out too sharp, too brittle. Too scratchy. Natalie didn't care. "No, thank you."
"Then where? Or did you just want to drive around some? Maybe talk?"
No, she didn't want to talk. And she didn't want to drive around. Her mind was made up and she knew what she wanted to do and how to do it. "Can you take me—"
Home. She had nearly said home.
Natalie stared out the window and cleared her throat. "Can you take me to the condo? I need to pack my things."
"Yeah, of course." There was a long pause, interrupted only by the sound of Haley's fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "Where are you going to go after you pack?"
"The train station. I'm going back to New York."
"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Haley's voice was gentle, coaxing. Empty of any judgment. Natalie glanced at her, saw the way her brows were lowered in a small frown. Concern? Something else?
She didn't know. Didn't care.
"Yeah, it's what I want to do." It's what she should have done the night she had turned Brandon in. If she had, she wouldn't be here now. Wouldn't be stuck in a sham marriage.
Wouldn't be filled with this irrational pain that made her stomach twist and clench and caused her hands to tremble.
Natalie didn't say another word, just nodded and turned the car in the direction of Ben's condo.
"I'll wait for you. Take you to Elizabethtown or Harrisburg and make sure you're okay."
The offer stunned Natalie. She finally pulled her gaze from the window and looked at Haley, not bothering to hide her confusion. "Why? Why would you do that for me?"
Haley looked over, her hazel eyes clear. "That's what friends are for, right?"
Natalie had no idea how to answer because it had been so long since she'd had a real friend that she didn't know.
And for some reason, that realization hurt almost as much as seeing her husband with another woman.
Chapter Eighteen
Natalie grabbed the last few items from the closet and tossed them into the suitcase, struggled to get the zipper closed against the bulging contents. She could take the time to repack, knew that everything would fit much neater if she folded the clothes instead of throwing them in the way she had.
She didn't have time to repack. The sense of urgency was stronger now, pushing her, making her rush. She needed to leave. Now.
She dragged the suitcase from the bed and stood it next to the other one and stared at it. This was her entire life, summed up in the belongings she could fit into two suitcases.
The few boxes stacked in the corner would have to stay, at least for now. She couldn't take them on the train, had no way to get them to New York right now. Even if she did, she had no place to put them—she'd given up her small studio already and there was no doubt in her mind that it had been leased again.
It didn't matter. She'd find someplace to stay, even if it was nothing more than a cheap room in a shitty part of town. Pawning the camera and the wedding band would give her enough, just until she got another job.
She hoped.
No, it would. And finding a job wouldn't be too hard, even if it was nothing more than temporary to start. There were lots of jobs available, if you knew where to look and weren't afraid to take a little less as a trade-off for being paid in cash.
She'd done it before and survived. All those years growing up and moving from place-to-place as her mother moved from relationship-to-relationship had taught her well. She had survived then, she'd survive now.
Natalie patted the front pocket of her jeans, traced the reassuring outline of the band she had ripped from her finger as soon as she entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. The faintest twinge of guilt ate at her but she ruthlessly pushed it away. There was no reason to feel guilty about pawning the ring, not when it meant nothing to her.
Just like it meant nothing to Ben.
Their marriage wasn't real. It had never been real. It would never be real. The only reason she could possibly have for being guilty was knowing that she'd only get a very small fraction of what the ring was worth when she pawned it.
It didn't matter, as long as she got something for it.
The door opened behind her, just a whisper of sound. Haley, probably coming to see if she needed help—or asking again if she was sure she wanted to do this. Wouldn't Natalie prefer to stay with her and Zach for a few days, just until she figured things out?
No—to both questions. But she couldn't let Haley know that. If she did, the woman would try to talk her into staying and Natalie refused to do that. How could she, when there was nothing here for her?
She wiped one hand across her face and took a steadying breath then turned around. "I'm ready—"
&
nbsp; The words ended in a choked gasp as the breath rushed from her lungs. It wasn't Haley standing in the doorway, it was Ben. And oh God, why was he even here? Shouldn't he still be at Mystic's, or maybe somewhere else with that woman?
She swallowed against the lump in her throat and tried not to stare at him. At the way he stood there, with one shoulder perched against the doorframe and strong arms folded across his broad chest. A muscle jumped in his square jaw and his lips were compressed in a thin line. His hair was mussed, as if he'd run his hands through it—or maybe someone else had.
Her gaze darted to his. Cold shadows filled his eyes and sent a chilly shiver dancing across her skin. But it wasn't the shadows that made her look away—
It was the guilt lingering just beneath them.
She grabbed the handles of each suitcase and started toward him. "Haley's taking me to the train station—"
"Haley went home."
His emotionless voice, so flat and distant, sent another chill dancing across her flesh. Immediately after that came the sting of betrayal. Haley was gone? She'd just left, after telling Natalie she'd take her to the station?
Natalie bit back the disappointment. Had she really expected anything different? Yes, she had—which only proved how foolish she truly was. She'd let her guard down without even realizing it and now life was teaching her yet another lesson.
No, not another one—it was simply reinforcing the lessons she had already learned.
She adjusted her grip around the suitcase handles, ignored the stinging of her scraped palm and took a step forward. "Then I'll find another way to get there."
"How?"
"I don't know. I'll think of something." She moved forward another step, stopped when she realized Ben wasn't going to move out of her way. Oh God, was she going to have to plow through him? Push him out of the way and run toward the door? Yes, if she had to.
Playing His Part: A York Bombers Hockey Romance (The York Bombers Book 7) Page 13
