For Pucking Keeps: A Hockey Romance (The Seattle Vipers Series Book 1)

25. Tor

TWENTY-FIVE

Idon’t know what to expect. Jaz disappears into the bathroom, shutting down and shutting me out, face full of sorrow and eyes brimming with tears.

I don’t want this. Despite the nervous energy surrounding the end of what should have been an amazing night. This is not the way I envisioned things would go. Shaun confronting Jaz the way he did, the blatant disrespect he showed, let me know exactly what kind of man he is. He didn’t feel like a man who once cared for her, he felt like a bully. I don’t like bullies. Guys like him on the ice would get a glove to the face, and I wouldn’t give two shits about the penalty box.

Tonight was perfect until he swooped in and ripped the rug from underneath her. I want to kill him for humiliating her in public amongst her peers. It was shameful. God, the fall out. I’ll do whatever I can to help her. I held back tonight for my team, my agent, and my coach. Parker has done so much to keep my image clean, the last thing I need is an altercation that I am sure someone would capture a video of.

Fuck, this is a mess. This is the very reason why I didn’t get involved. Why relationships weren’t worth it. Too many unknown variables and putting out constant fires is exhausting. But for Alexis, I’d do it all and then some. I love her. I need her, and as much as I wanted to rearrange Shaun’s face with my fist, I knew it would have cost her more. Maybe I did exactly what I was supposed to do in this situation. Maybe this night will cost me the most.

She’s kept things from me, vital things apparently. I don’t want to believe Shaun but the seeds of doubt had been planted hours before when Parker asked about the book at the photo shoot. Shaun’s words, unfortunately, confirmed what I didn’t want to believe. She wouldn’t, she didn’t, but she did. I wanted her to deny what he said, to explain, anything to reassure me, but it never came. There was nothing but silence the entire ride home.

Dark thoughts begin to turn over in my mind. Do I even know the woman in the other room? Has this been a game to her? Is this even real? I’m confused, hurt, and fucking torn up about it. But I love her. I want to give her a chance, I owe her that.

Feeling resigned, I let my bow tie slip from around my neck easily as I toss it to the floor. Turning with a frustrated sigh, I run my hands through my locs, kicking off my shoes and tuxedo jacket as I move across the room to the desk. Jaz’s laptop sits open, taunting me, beckoning me forward. The soft glow of the screen is almost too bright in the darkness of my bedroom. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom and Jaz moving around on the other side of the door grounds me. It reassures me, at least for now I haven’t lost her. For now, nothing really has changed.

Facing forward, I pull the laptop closer, and I settle back into the chair. With a click of the mouse to take me to the beginning of the story, I begin to read.

After a few hours of reading, my eyes sore and blurring with the need to sleep, one thing is for sure, the story of Evan and Raven is our story, every single fucking moment. I know it’s fiction, I know what Jaz’s intentions were, she makes it very clear at the beginning of the book. Love, true love, the soulmate kind of love, it’s attainable, and this story sets out to prove it. But the things we shared, personal things that I’ve kept private, those are the unforgiveable parts of the story. I gave her those truths because I trusted her with them, but she didn’t think twice about using them as a means to move her plot forward. The disregard for me stings, because I would never, ever use her in this way. I blow out a calming breath as the bed sheets shift behind me. I know she’s there and hasn’t slept. She’s sitting up in bed, waiting for me to finish what she’s written so far. I’m going to lose her, and right now, as much as I love her, I don’t know. . .I don’t know if my love is enough.

I sit back and rub my hands down my face, in desperate need of a cup of coffee and maybe a round with a punching bag. With neither being readily available, I look out, seeking the comfort of the skyline in the early morning dawn, trying and failing to find the right words. I’m angry. Is it reasonable? Yes. I have every right to be pissed, but my mind and heart are in a cage match for dominance. My heart, weak and feeble as it is, just doesn’t have enough strength, I’m afraid. She should have told me, maybe we could have talked it through and found a different way. I have no doubt that her ex is going to leak this information. The vindictive motherfucker has it out for her, so he is coming for me by proxy? Fuck it, anger it is.

“Was any of this real to you, Jaz? Did you use me? Was I a game to you?” I whisper as I close the laptop, not wanting to look at the words on the screen a moment longer. I know it’s not lost on her that I didn’t call her by her actual name, because Alexis is too real, too intimate.

“I’m sorry, Tor. I should have told you. I was?—”

I stand, pushing the chair back with a little too much force. The unexpected movement causes Jaz to flinch, but I’m too upset to care. “But you didn’t though, Jaz,” I say as I pace in front of the bed.

“I wanted to. I should have come clean about what I wrote, but I knew you would be upset about some aspects of the story.” Her voice cracks and she sniffs, and it breaks my heart further seeing her fall apart.

“Do you hear yourself? You had every opportunity to tell me.” I grip my locs in disbelief and frustration. “I asked you for one thing. One fucking thing! What was it, Jaz?” I shout, getting more and more worked up as my feelings pour out of me.

Jaz sobs, tears stream down her cheeks, face flushed red. “Honesty. Truth,” she finally replies, her voice shaky and hoarse. “Tor, I know I messed this up. I know. I was under so much pressure. The writer’s block. I made a rash decision. I. . .I was struggling. It’s just a story, my readers won’t know.”

I point to my chest with so much force I wince. “But I know. I know what you did, and when Shaun takes what he knows to social media, the rumors about your book will be out there. The press, my fans, they will scrutinize every word. Fuck, Jaz, even the sex! What we do behind closed doors is for us. This a clusterfuck of epic proportions.”

Jaz sniffs. “I will ask Julia for advice. Let me fix this Tor, please,” she pleads, climbing to her knees and crawling to the edge of the bed. Jaz reaches for me, but I can’t let her touch me. I’m so angry I move out of reach. Her face crumples, along with her body as she folds over, bending forward, burying her head in her hands. The keening sound that leaves her threatens to bring me to my knees. I turn away, then turn toward her again, torn. I don’t know what to do. I’m literally fighting myself. My behavior is downright manic.

“I love you, Tor. It was never my intention to hurt you. Never. I’m sorry. So, fucking sorry.”

I feel every word, but I feel so betrayed I can’t see past my anger. I want to believe it. I want to believe. I felt her love. I know she does, don’t I?

“Don’t. Don’t you dare tell me you love me like this. Not now, not right now when I don’t know if I believe you. Fuck!” I feel like a caged animal, walking a groove into the carpet. Thoughts racing a mile a minute. What do I do? How do we get past this? I don’t know. . .I don’t know. . .

“Please, Tor. You’re tired. We can sleep and then talk. It’s been a very long night, baby. I’ll go sleep in a guest room if you need me to. But please, let’s think things through together,” she tries to reason with me, but I’m done. Rational thought has left the building.

“I don’t get the luxury of sleep, Jaz. I have to get to the arena for team conditioning. I have a game tonight. If I keep standing here attempting to make sense of what you’ve done, I will do or say something I can’t take back.” I leave her there, a heap of tears and snot in the middle of my bed as I cross the threshold of the bathroom.

Stopping in the doorframe with my back to her, I lift my arms and brace myself against my next words, words I know are meant to decimate, destroy, and cause unimaginable pain for the both of us. “I want to say I’m stronger, baby. I want to say that I will walk out of this shower and into your arms without resentment. I want to tell you our love is enough.” I let my shoulders rise and fall in defeat. “How can I trust you? You took something already fragile in nature and set fire to it.” I shake against the torrent of her sobs ringing out around the room. I want to go to her, hold her, despite my feelings, tell her everything will be alright. But then I will be the liar.

“Tor—”

“I’m not strong, Jaz. You’ve broken me, made me weak. I can’t see any other way around this.”

“Please! Don’t, Tor,” she begs, sensing what I’m about to say.

“Don’t be here when I come out. Please. Go,” I whisper, trying to move, but my legs and feet weigh a million pounds. My chest heaves, my eyes sting, and my heart cracks into two. I don’t see any other way, not right now. Right now I need space to think, and I can’t do it with her here. With that thought, I walk into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me.

I can still hear Jaz crying through the door as I turn on the shower, strip and step inside. I stand under the spray, letting the hot water sooth me and drown out the wails of agony coming from the bedroom.

“Fuck!” I shout, hitting my open palm against the shower wall. I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing. The sight of Jaz, the pain and regret in her tear-filled eyes. I’m torn, warring with myself, my indecision is making me sick to my stomach. I don’t know whether to stay inside the shower or run out of here and ask her to stay. I stand there until the hot water turns ice cold; only then do I move. I grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist and pause by the door. Silence. Opening the door I step inside an empty room. The silence is soul crushing. I can’t hear any noise downstairs and when I look toward the now empty desk I know without a doubt Jaz is gone.

The sound of my phone ringing has me rushing across the room. Picking up my tuxedo pants, I find it in one of my pockets along with Jaz’s panties.

“Hello,” I say, hoping maybe she’s making one last attempt to make me see reason. I want to tell her to come home, just come back.

“Mr. Bailey,” Lucas says with a disapproving clip to his voice. I know what he’s about to say and the finality of it steals my breath.

“Lucas.” I sit on the edge of my bed, my legs too shaky to stand. I told her to go. I told her to leave. I told her I don’t trust her. What the fuck have I done?

“Miss Starr is gone. She left her keycard at my desk. I just wanted to let you know,” he says, then sighs.

“Thank you for letting me know, Lucas.” I hang up and let my phone drop to the floor. Disappointment. Grief. Pain. Confusion. I feel it all and I don’t know how to decipher any of it.

I drop my head in my hands, and cry for the first time since my mother passed away. Because I can feel the emptiness that Jaz’s absence has left behind already. I’ve cleaved a piece of my very soul and I let her walk away.

I let her run from me knowing there’s a possibility that I will never get her back.