Chapter 53
JAYDEN
The cherry lights up, The Business blasts around the arena along with the roar of the fans.
Rio rushes me into Bruce with the high of our inevitable win against Vegas on home ice, pounding between us.
Shaking them off, I zoom around the ice to the bench where Eli is ready to change back over with Weissman.
A hot as hell grin cuts his face as he climbs over the boards and bumps his fist with him. I swear, it takes everything in me not to assault his perfect lips when he skates past me with a wink, blowing me an air kiss.
Fuck me.
I glance up at the stand behind the bench where Finley is watching the game. She looks sweet as fuck in my oversized jersey and a cute Comets beanie bobbling on her head, celebrating my goal with Dylan’s daughter and baby momma.
He’s on top form tonight, dishing out orders and plays. This is why we call him Daddy, because when he’s on it, he can command a fucking epic game out of the team.
“Keep your eyes on nineteen and thirty-seven,” he hollers at Eli and me, gesturing with his stick to where he thinks they’re going to try to hit us next.
They’re Vegas’s strongest offensive line—fucking brutal with their hits. Even though a goal from them in the next ninety seconds won’t hurt us, it’d be epic to have another shutout.
Rio is in position at center ice with Bruce hanging slightly back and Andersen off to the side. The instant the puck drops, Matheo shoots the puck to Andersen. He slaps it past Auguste, directly to Eli.
I see Brolin dart for him before the puck finds Eli. He’s going to take him clean out, and every instinct in my body drives me forward. Before I get to him, Rio sends the bastard into the boards with a barge of his shoulder.
Thankfully, the play doesn’t stop, and when Brolin tries to get into it with Matheo, he shuts him down. Brolin’s frustration screws the rest of his game. He’s looking for a brawl, not a goal, and that leaves Patterson on his own. Eli and I hardly cross the blue line while the clock runs down.
It’s a fucking perfect game with a perfect score sheet. 4–0. Two fucking beautiful points that shift us four places up the table based on our wins and goal differential.
The atmosphere is euphoric in the locker room. Everyone is fucking blissed out and ready to celebrate when we head out. Thankfully, Coach has Matheo and Erik do the postgame press, meaning Eli and I head straight for the VIP bar where Finley is waiting for us.
The instant the elevator doors close, he closes the space between us. His dirty-blond hair is still damp from the shower, and his face has the flush of the last two and a half hours glowing on his cheeks when his hand hooks around my nape and pulls my lips onto his.
“Good game,” is all he says, voice low and gravelly, before he spears his tongue into my mouth.
The kiss is heavy and too fast, but the fire that was already in my belly blows up all over me. I can hardly see straight when the doors ping open and he ushers me out with his hand on the small of my back.
When we turn the corner, Finley’s hot body launches into me—literally climbing me like a tree before mauling all feeling from my lips. I like it when she comes to watch us play. Love the way she gets into the game. If we’re all ramped up on our win, she’s leaping out of her skin with giddiness.
“You were so good out there,” she coos between hard pecks to my face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Hey,” Eli grumbles, poking her waist until she tumbles into him in a fit of giggles. “I was there, too, you know?”
“I was as mesmerized by you,” she tells him with a hug so tight that he has to gasp for air.
The last week has been hard. Whether we wanted it or not, things shifted. The truth jiggled us around, and it’s taking time for us to settle back into our normal.
Finley hasn’t given me the opportunity to talk to her about her conversation with Eli. Between her job, training, and game days, we’re lucky if we get to eat dinner together. Falling into bed together certainly hasn’t been a thing, either.
Eli and I have been studying the game tapes like our lives depend on it, while Fin’s been immersed in getting the final touches for Summer’s nursery mural nailed down, along with taking on a few more responsibilities with the clients and going on her driving lessons.
Life is hectic, and I know we’re good, but it doesn’t make the fact that Finley’s hurt that I knew about what Presley did any easier. And I think her avoiding talking about it is her way of trying to evade the argument that has been brewing since I left her and Eli to talk.
When I walked back into the apartment with Bee after I left Auguste’s place, everything was eerily calm.
Eli and Finley were lounging on the couch with a movie, and I was too afraid to be the asshole who came in and blew things up.
Now, I keep falling into these moments of abated torment where I want Finley to yell at me, to lash out so that we can clear the air and be done.
But, like Eli’s said, maybe it’s in my head. Maybe I’ve got misplaced guilt.
Who the fuck knows anymore?
“Drink?” Eli asks, his hand threading with mine, giving it that familiar squeeze that pulls me out of my head.
“I got them already,” Finley says, glancing across Eli at me.
I miss her smile—that big, all-consuming one I love. Every time she looks at me, I keep waiting for it, but it never comes. And I’m suffocating here. I’m dying without it.
“They’re at the table Paige and I commandeered. She’s so nice, by the way,” she says of Dylan’s baby momma. “Kind of blows my mind that she and Dylan aren’t together together.”
“Yeah,” I chuff as she pulls backward in the direction of the restrooms, and Eli asks, “Where you going?”
“I’ve drunk my weight in soda tonight,” Finley chuckles with a wiggle. “Be right back.”
“Yeah, I think I need to go, too,” I say, quickly following her before Eli can stop me.
His stare is boring into my back. I can practically hear him cursing me out in his head.
Because maybe this isn’t the right place or the right time, but I’m fucking buzzing on the adrenaline from the game and that damn corker of a goal.
I want to celebrate and have a good time with him and our girl without feeling like I’m walking on eggshells.
A few women leave the bathroom after Finley walks in. I know there are only three stalls in there, and I got a peek at the empty interior when the first two held the doors open for the last woman.
Slipping inside, I turn the lock on the first door and then on the second, too. It's not necessary, but I’m chickening out, and it’s something to do to distract the urge to walk back out.
It doesn’t have to be an argument. Just need to talk shit through. Clear the air like grown-ups…
“JJ?” I spin to find Finley standing in the doorway of the middle stall. “What are you doing in here?”
“I…” I try to swallow my nerves, only to choke on the lump in my throat. “Please don’t be mad at me. I can’t take it. I—”
“I’m not mad at you.” The curt tone of her reply says otherwise.
“Fuck, don’t lie to me, either.”
Dropping her gaze to the floor, she focuses on washing her hands more meticulously than a fucking surgeon.
If she’s not mad, my name’s not Jayden.
“Fin…”
“God, I’m not mad at you, Jayden!” She spins so fast that her wet hands spray me. “It’s not you, it’s…”
“I wish I could have told you, but—”
“It wasn’t your place to. I know. I get it. I’m glad he had you to talk to.” I watch her flap her hands under the dryer before giving up and using a washcloth instead.
All the while, I take in her slender figure in those skin-tight jeans I love, all swallowed up by my jersey.
She’s fucking perfect and I’m fucking dying.
“You’re glad. Glad?” I hate that word. It’s the middle ground between happy and pissed when you don’t want to commit to either. “You’re glad?”
“Yup.” When she attempts to walk past me, I stand in her way. “JJ…”
“We’re not leaving until you talk to me.”
“They’re going to break down the door… people will see us leave together…”
“Oh, the scandal,” I retort, gripping her hips as I lean closer. “It’s my name on your back.”
“Jayden—”
“Talk to me, dammit! Please!” Fuck, my yell ricochets around us, and I instantly regret the outburst because she looks as suffocated and on edge as I’ve been feeling.
“I’m devastated, JJ!”
My ears are ringing from her scream.
“Finley…”
“I’m angry. I’m… I’m fucking sick to my stomach.
” Tears line her eyes, and before they skitter down her face, I catch them on my finger.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Presley. I see him all the time. When I look in the mirror. When… when… I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry. I can’t… I can’t do this…”
Fuck.
I’m a jackass.
“Come here.” With one step, I engulf her in a bear hug, burying her in my chest while she bawls her eyes out. “I got you, Baby.”
It seems like forever that I stand there holding her while she pours all her anguish out to me. Seems like an eternity since I’ve seen her eyes when she looks up at me. Hands still clutching the lapel of my suit jacket, her bottom lip sucked in, looking embarrassed about her breakdown.
I’m about to move us closer to the sink so I can fix her makeup when there’s a loud knock on the door.
“You get one warning to make yourselves decent before I come in,” a deep voice calls from the other side.
“Oh, God,” Finley groans, patting at her face frantically.
Sitting Finley on the vanity by the sink, I dart for the door just as it swings open. Reaching it in time to stop Tony, one of the janitors, from walking in.
“Not you, Morrow!” Tony gives me a pleading look.
“Sorry, Tone, my girl isn’t feeling great. She just needs a moment,” I tell him as he tries to peer inside.
The franchise has rules about players and their girls frolicking in the arena.
It’s no secret most of the players have broken them, but it goes unacknowledged unless you get caught with your pants around your ankles and your girl balancing precariously on your third leg.
It’s never happened to me, unlike a few of the other guys.
“Does she need water or something? Want me to get one of the docs?” Tony runs his fingers through his hair when he hears Fin blow her nose and the cough that follows.
He’s a good guy—one of the older maintenance people. Once in a while, he brings his grandkids to work, and they watch the team practices with the same enthusiasm as most fans watch the games.
“I’ll divert the ladies to the accessible bathroom on the other side. Don’t take too long, though. I’d like to keep this job. My grandbabies like the behind-the-scenes access.”
“Thanks, Tone. I’ll make it up to you. Get you a couple of game pucks from tonight.” It’s the least I can do for the way he’s kept his cool.
He inches the door shut and locks it as I go back to Finley.
She’s standing in front of the mirror, scrubbing at her face with a damp washcloth.
“Stop, Baby,” I tell her, spinning her toward me with one hand and taking the washcloth from her with the other. “Let me, before you scour the skin off your pretty face.”
Finley snorts. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’m not going to acknowledge that statement with a contradiction, because we both know you’re smarter and stronger than that.” Pulling my Vaseline from my pocket, I open the small pot and dab the washcloth in it before I gently go about cleaning up the streaked makeup.
“Smart?” Finley scoffs. “Eli came back home to me, JJ. I hugged him. I… I was right there with him, and I didn’t see it. Any of it. What kind of monster does that make me?”
“It makes you human. It makes you a person like the rest of us.”
“How could I not fucking see?” The pleading look on her face breaks my heart.
She’s so desperate to find her blame in all this that she can’t see there isn’t any.
“I’ve known him all my life. I’ve loved him all my life. I thought I knew him like the back of my hand, inside out…”
“You didn’t see it. I didn’t see it.” Sucking in a deep breath, I gently swipe my pinkie beneath her bottom lashes, cleaning the last residue of mascara. “Because it’s not something we could see, Fin. It’s not our truth and it’s not our crime.”
“I’m drowning, Jayden. I’m trying to be okay, but I’m not. I failed him. I couldn’t protect him from any of the evils. Not his cruel bitch grandmother. Not my piece of shit brother… I want to burn that fucking place and every goddamn soul in it to the pits of hell.”
“Look at me.” I cant her face back a tad more, until her eyes are on mine again—red, puffy, and utterly breathtaking with how depthless they are.
Like her love, they’re a boundless well of pain and desperation that ripples from the core of her to mine.
“They will all get their just desserts. Trust me, Baby. They will all pay.”
Taking her hand, I knot our pinkies together with a firm, promising shake. I don’t stop shaking until she’s jiggling all over, and when I tease her tickle spot, a giggle sputters out of her.
It’s not quite the soul-deep laugh I’m used to, but it’s better than nothing.
I’ll take it.
The same way I’ll take any part of her she gives me.