Cross-Checked (Boston Rebels #3)

Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

AJ

I ’m standing here talking to Chet’s parents, because of course they’re here and wanted to say hello. My third glass of champagne is going down easy, and I’m realizing that this night hasn’t sucked as badly as I thought it would.

Conversation at our table over dinner was great because I was surrounded by people I know and trust. We laughed and talked throughout the meal, and it was so natural and easy, not like any dinner I’ve had with my own family.

And that’s when I realized that these people are my family. My team, the Hartmanns, the Wilcotts, my girlfriends, McCabe and Abby...this is the family I’ve created for myself.

In fact, I’ve never had this much fun or felt this loved at a single one of my family’s events, and I’m not going to let a conversation with my former in-laws derail my night. I owe them nothing.

I’m about to excuse myself, when I feel the warmth of McCabe’s large hand on the small of my back. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” he says, “but I need to steal AJ away for a minute.”

Chet’s parents start to say goodbye, but McCabe turns and guides me away, as he dips his head so his mouth is right next to my ear. “We have a problem.”

Thinking he’s about to make a joke about how he can’t wait any longer to get me naked, or something like that, I flirtatiously reply, “Oh yeah, what kind of a problem?”

“The kind where your ex-husband knows we’re together and just said ‘This isn’t over.’”

“The fuck?” I groan out the question as my heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.

“I’ll explain, but we need to get out of here.”

“It’s going to be obvious if we leave together,” I tell him.

“We can leave separately if you want, but the guys have already figured it out, and so has Chet.”

“The guys? Meaning your teammates?”

“Yeah.” His word is clipped, and it occurs to me that maybe we were stupid thinking we could hide this. Maybe inviting them here with me was a mistake, because how could anyone not notice the way we look at each other, how we always gravitate toward each other? Try as we might, it’s impossible to hide our feelings, even with stakes this high—in this ballroom with my family, half of St. Louis’s management team, and our own team owner, coach, and players.

How did I think this was a good idea? Because your judgment is clouded. It’s always my father’s voice I hear in these moments of doubt.

Maybe my judgment is clouded, but actually...I don’t give a shit.

Perhaps for the first time in my life, I’ve realized that shoving down all my emotions and putting work above all else didn’t actually keep me safe. The only thing it “protected” me from was the kind of relationships—professional, friendly, and romantic—that could bring me great joy.

“Let’s go. We’ll talk about this back at the hotel.”

We don’t say our goodbyes on the way out, and we don’t discuss whats going on during the quick car ride back to the hotel. Instead, he texts his teammates a vague update and I reach out to Lauren, scheduling a call in fifteen minutes.

But the minute the door to my hotel room is shut, I rest my forehead against his chest, and he wraps his arms around my lower back.

“Alright,” I say, relief washing through me as I find comfort in his arms. “Tell me what happened back there.”

He walks me through his conversation with Chet, and then says, “Learning that there’s more to the story about my trade from Chet, instead of from you, made me feel like I was set up.”

I sigh, knowing that , he’s right. “I didn’t want to risk reopening that wound. I was afraid you’d go after Chet when you saw him, and we’d be right back to where we were eight years ago, with you facing assault charges.”

“But instead, he came after me, so why don’t you tell me about these assault charges that I know nothing about.” His voice is level, and I can tell he’s trying not to be angry at me for withholding information.

“That whole altercation in that hallway eight years ago was captured on the security cameras. And it clearly showed Chet yelling at me, before you came out of nowhere and beat the shit out of him. He never even threw a punch, and didn’t even have time to defend himself.”

His chest rumbles with what feels and sounds like a growl, and I’m sure he’s remembering everything that happened that day, just as I am. I’ve spent years trying to put that day behind me, but there’s no way to deny that it was a tipping point—for my marriage, for my career, and for McCabe’s career too.

I smooth my palms against his chest and tilt my head up to look at him. “He threatened to press charges. Assault and battery carries a minimum sentence of seven years in Missouri, and if the court had considered your hands as deadly weapons, which wouldn’t have been much of a stretch given that fighting on the ice is part of your job, you could have spent half your life in jail if convicted.”

“Alessandra,” he whispers into my hair as he presses a kiss to my forehead.

“That’s what I meant, when I said I didn’t have a choice but to trade you. Not only would it have been impossible for you to play for Chet after that, but if I didn’t trade you, he was going to try to send you to jail.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because that was part of the agreement. If I told you, he’d press charges.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“In the legal world, I think they call that a plea bargain,” I say with a sad shrug.

“Only if I had known and agreed to the offer.”

“You would have.”

I don’t mean to sound dismissive, but what other choice would he have had? The low rattle in his throat is his tacit agreement.

“I wish I could have told you, because then you’d have understood that I wasn’t choosing Chet over you. If anything, I was choosing you. And then, I couldn’t even tell you when I came to Boston, because the statute of limitations in Missouri is five years. If he’d found you knew, he still could have pressed charges. That video footage was so damning. There’s no way you wouldn’t have been convicted.”

He runs his thumb along my jaw and tips my chin up as he says, “That means you could have told me three years ago. The statute of limitations would have expired...”

“Three years ago, you hated me. We had a decent working relationship where we kept our distance, and you weren’t doing anything that could risk your career for me. It seemed safer to leave the past in the past.”

“Were you afraid that telling me might have led us down this path sooner?” His hands move along my shoulders, down the sides of my breasts, and to my hips, where he grips me possessively.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly as I bring my hands up to cup his jaw in my palms, smoothing my fingers across the perpetual stubble that I find along his cheeks. “I thought I was protecting you, and I was probably also trying to protect myself. Honestly, I just tried to put it out of my mind.”

“Because . . .?”

“Because when you’ve been married to someone like Chet, when you’ve been fooled and made a fool of, it’s hard to trust your own judgment. When it comes to work, I’m always sure what the right thing to do is. But in my personal life, I don’t know...it just felt easier to only focus on work.”

“You deserve so much more than what he gave you,” he says. “You deserve everything. ”

I press my eyes closed as I try not to let the tears fall. It feels so good to be with someone who always has my back and wants what’s best for me.

“And that’s what I feel like you’re giving me. I just hope I can do the same in return.”

“I’m not sure why you would even question that. You are everything I never knew I wanted. Your strength and determination, your tenderness with Abby, the fierce way you protect the people you care about...how can you even doubt that you could be that person for me?”

I gulp over the lump in my throat. I’m about to respond when my phone rings. “Shit,” I mutter, moving to open the small bag that hangs from my shoulder because I recognize the ringtone for a video call. “It’s Lauren, I have to get this.”

“Alright, I’m going to call Jameson,” he says, but his phone buzzes just as he pulls it from his pocket. “And right on cue, that’s a text from him telling me to fucking call him .”

He heads into the bedroom, and I take a seat at the desk in the small living room. Once I’ve updated Lauren on the situation, she agrees that the best course of action is to get ahead of the story, and she suggests we pull Morgan into the conversation. Together, we craft a statement, and Morgan has a plan for some social media coverage to “make us the couple everyone’s rooting for.”

I’m hopeful she can soften people’s view of us together.

“You should get Frank and Sarah’s approval first,” Lauren says, when I tell her that McCabe just read the statement I’d texted him and gave me a thumbs up. “As much as it sucks to say this, you’re not releasing this statement as an individual. You’re releasing it as a representative of this team.”

I want to call bullshit on that, because this is my private life we’re talking about, but she’s right. If I weren’t the Rebels’ GM, I wouldn’t need to put out a statement about being in a relationship with their team captain.

“I’ll tell them I’m releasing a statement. What it says isn’t up for debate. We’ve already worked through that, McCabe’s good with it, and they’ll need to trust our judgment here.”

“It’s up to you how you want to handle this,” Lauren says, pulling her long red hair back into a bun. “But I also know you’re a realist, and we don’t know what the public’s perception of this will be. It could really go either way.”

“No matter what happens,” Morgan says, “we’re here for you. Just try to block out the noise for the next few days, because people will have opinions, whether they’re entitled to them or not.”

When we’re off our call, I text Frank and Sarah with an update and a link to my statement.

Frank

This is the right statement, given the situation. Go for it.

Sarah

Hold up.

Yes, the statement is good as is. But I think this needs to come from the Rebels, so it’s clear that the organization is aware and supporting you in this.

I’d like to update PR and have them send the statement out to the media, immediately. Are you both okay with that?

Frank

Sounds like a smart move.

This is all happening so fast; I want to pause for a minute to just breathe. I hate that I feel like I’m spiraling, like there’s a crisis that I’m trying to manage before it’s a catastrophe, all because Chet won’t stay out of my life.

But I don’t have the time to pause because we need our statement to go out before Chet can say anything, so it appears proactive, rather than reactive.

AJ

Go for it.

I hope I don’t regret this, I think as I toss my phone and it clatters onto the desk.

“Everything okay?”

I jump at the sound of McCabe’s voice behind me, and spin in the chair to find him sitting on the couch, legs spread, elbows on his knees. His tuxedo jacket is off, the bowtie is gone, and the top few buttons are undone. With his sleeves rolled up and his muscular forearms on display, he looks like dessert, and I’m suddenly starving.

Get your fucking hormones under control. This is a crisis, not the start of a sex scene.

“Yeah, it’s out of my hands now.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning the Rebels are going to release the statement. Morgan said the best thing we can do is stay off social media for the next few days. Oh, and she wants to take some pictures of us when we’re back in Boston—domestic stuff like us playing with Abby, to use on social media and release to the press.”

He clears his throat. “That’s fine, but we’re not staging them. The way you are with Abby—the way you play with her, and feed her, and rock her to sleep—you treat her like she’s your own kid. Morgan can capture those pictures, not something that looks forced. I don’t want anyone claiming that your relationship with Abby is just for show.”

“People will say it anyway, Ronan. You need to prepare yourself for that. There will be people who love this for us, and there will be haters. The haters will be way louder.”

He tilts his head, looking at me like he’s assessing me. Then he looks down at his hands, before looking back at me. “You’re scared.” It’s not a question.

“I’d be a fool to act like this isn’t going to be a big deal. I know I seem like I don’t give a shit what people think, but deep down, I don’t know...” I look out the window, but all I see is the darkness of the office buildings that surround us. “I like being successful. I like being good at what I do. I like the respect and admiration it’s always granted me. And the thought of losing that?—”

He stands so abruptly that I stop speaking, and in a few quick steps, he’s in front of me, kneeling. “You’re wound so tight about this, I’m afraid you’ll snap.”

“You would be too if your whole career was on the line.”

“My whole career is on the line, AJ. And after I just accidentally revealed our relationship when Frank wanted us to wait, it’s even more unlikely he’ll keep me next year. You're not the only one who stands to lose something here. But you are the one thing I cannot stand to lose. So if this contract with Boston doesn’t work out, I may retire early.”

“What? No!” My whole body involuntarily pulls back from his embrace, but he doesn’t let me go. What the hell is he talking about? He’s one of the best forwards in the league. He can’t retire early.

I stare up at him. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can. Hockey has been my only love for most of my life. Then I stepped into my role as a dad, and now that I have you too, everything just feels...different. More complete. I’d miss playing, but I’m nearing the end of my career anyway. There’s no way I’m packing Abby and myself up and moving somewhere else—not without you. There’s no end to this situation that doesn’t involve me staying in Boston.”

“I don’t want you to walk away from your career for me.” It would add so much pressure to our relationship if one person sacrificed everything to be with the other.

“Really? Because I can’t think of a single better reason to retire. I would do anything for you. And if you don’t already know that, then I’ll have to do a better job showing you. Which should be easier, to be honest, now that we’re not going to have to hide this.”

I know what he means, but nothing about going public is going to be easy—especially not during the finals, when we’re competing for the Cup and I’m up for GM of the Year...or was, anyway.

“And I’m going to start by helping you relax a bit.” He licks his lower lip and pulls it between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down my body so I have no doubt about his intentions. “But first, let’s get you out of this gorgeous dress so I don’t ruin it.”

Standing, he holds out his hand, and when I take it, he pulls me up and leads me back into my bedroom. There’s a dressing area with a sink and a closet on the opposite side. He turns me so I’m facing the mirror above the sink.

“You remember the first time we had sex?”

Looking at him in the mirror, I nod. I remember every detail about every time we’ve been together—they’re etched into my memory the same way he’s etched himself onto my heart.

“Tonight, I want you to remember what I said that night. I want you to keep your eyes open and watch yourself come. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you fall apart on me, and I want you to remember that I’m the only one who’s ever made you feel this way. The only one who ever will make you feel this way.”

His promise and desperation come out in equal measure, and it pains me to realize he’s less sure of my feelings for him than I am of his for me.

“Ronan,” I say, my gaze still locked on him in the mirror as I bring my arm up and slide my palm along the back of his neck. “I meant what I said the other night. This is forever for me too.”

He lets out a relieved sigh as his hands come around between us. The delicious drag of his fingers over my ass as he works the zipper down the back of the dress has me clenching my thighs together.

Will this ever get old? Will I ever be less attracted to him? God, I hope not. I hope that I still want to jump him every time I see him, even years from now. Even when our kids have run us ragged, and we fall into bed exhausted at night. He’ll still be the person I reach for, no matter what.

“What?” he asks, pausing his movements as he stares at me in the mirror.

I press my lips between my teeth as my eyes fill with tears, and his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back against him. “Holy shit, AJ, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say with a small laugh as I shake my head. “I just...I had this image of us, years from now. We had kids—a few of them—and we were crawling into bed, exhausted, at the end of the day. But still, we reached for each other, like we couldn’t bear to be apart.”

“I can’t bear to be apart from you,” he whispers against my hair, then kisses his way from my ear to my jaw and down my neck. “My life with you in it is so much more fulfilling, so much more rewarding, than I would have ever imagined. Hockey’s been wonderful. But I’m not giving up our relationship to get in a few more years of playing anywhere without you.”

“What about Sloane? I thought you wanted to move to be closer to her?”

“Well, now we’re talking about the possibility of her moving up here, instead.”

“You’ve already talked to her about this?” I don’t know if I’m thrilled he’s so sure, or upset that he’s made these plans without talking to me first.

“I know what I want,” he says, and his eyes focus on me in the mirror as he slips the straps of the dress over my shoulders and lets it fall to the ground. He looks down, and a low hiss of air coasts against my skin when he sees my lace thong and garter belt. All of it is nude, including the thigh-high stockings.

He squats to take my dress off the floor, and as I step out of it, I go to kick my heels off. “Leave them,” he practically growls as he wraps his hand around my calf. “You don’t wear fuck-me shoes like that and take them off when I’m actually going to fuck you.”

“Don’t I?” I ask with a wink as I look down at him.

Standing, he turns to hang my dress in the closet before he’s stripping his own clothes off slowly, making me ache with need as I wait for him to come back to me.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he says as he turns back to where I stand, my legs crossed at the ankles as I rest my ass back against the countertop.

His thumbs brush against my nipples as he steps up and plants one foot on either side of me. A low moan crawls up my throat as he rubs across my hardened peaks, and then he’s turning me back to face the mirror as he says, “I love that you’re always so needy for me. And tonight, I’m going to make you come until you can’t stand on your own, until you fall into a deep sleep and forget about the last few hours.”

“I don’t want to forget,” I say, staring back at him in the mirror. “Yes, the last few hours have been damage control, but we’ve also spent that time planning a future together. And that starts now.”

I smile softly as I look up over my shoulder at him and he leans in to kiss me. It’s tender at first—a promise of sorts—and then he’s parting my lips and invading my mouth and taking total control of my body. His hands are everywhere, and as I reach behind me to grasp his hard length, he’s pushing my thong to the side and rubbing circles around my clit until I’m moaning into his mouth. It doesn’t take long. That first orgasm creeps up so quickly it takes me by surprise, and I’m using my thumb to circle the pre-cum around the head of his cock, gasping and chasing my release. But even though I’m right there, so close to tipping over the edge, I need him inside me...I feel empty without him.

I tell him as much, and he just smirks as he bends me forward and smacks my ass, hard. My gasp rings out and he presses his fingers harder against my clit.

“Come for me, and then I’ll fill you,” he promises. Waves of tingling electricity ripple through me as I clench my core together and my legs start to shake. But still, I don’t go over that tipping point. I’m about to tell him I can’t, when he takes my hand from his dick and moves it to the counter so I’m fully leaning forward. And then he’s pressing himself against my ass crack, rubbing lightly against that opening as he circles my clit with one hand and cups my breast with the other, pinching my nipple between his fingers.

I’m panting and gasping as the waves of my orgasm roll through my body, and then he’s biting my shoulder in between whispering filthy promises about how he plans to use me tonight. And while I’m still coming, he’s sliding into me, his finger still working my clit, and demanding that I keep going. And I do. I’ve never had an orgasm like this, one wave right after the other, and I’m practically screaming his name as the intensity increases until my legs are trembling and the only thing holding me up are his powerful thighs pressing me forward into the countertop.

“Good girl,” he purrs next to my ear as he continues fucking me, even after my orgasm ends. “I knew you could give me a second one. I think we need to go for a third.”

“Oh my god,” I pant. “There’s no way.”

“I didn’t take you for a quitter, Sunshine.”

He pulls out, spins me around so I’m sitting on the countertop, and then spreads his legs wider, bringing my legs up around his hips as he slips back into me. Then his mouth is on one of my nipples, sucking it against his tongue over and over while his fingers toy with my other nipple. It’s like there’s an invisible string connecting them to my core, and with each deep pull of my breast into his mouth, I can feel my muscles spasming around him.

“That’s my girl. Look at you taking me . . . so fucking greedy.”

Whimpering, I look down at where our bodies are joined, and the sight of him, huge and hard, pushing into me, the sound of our bodies meeting, the sight of my tits bouncing each time he bottoms out—all of it makes my core clench tighter.

“That’s right,” he says, his voice low and encouraging, “keep squeezing my cock like that, and I’ll give you that third orgasm you didn’t think you could have.”

I gasp as he holds my hips in place, changing the angle so he pushes into me hard and fast. The smooth glide of his hard cock against the front of my inner walls has the edges of my vision clouding as I tip over the edge with a cry of his name.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he grits out between clenched teeth as his body jerks and shudders with his own release as he holds my body against his. Bending down so his lips are right at my ear, he continues to give me everything with one more declaration. “You deserve every good thing in life, and I plan to make sure you get what you deserve.”