Hayley
We’ve barely seen each other the past week and a half, besides to sleep and recharge for the next string of games.
It’s exhausting. Emotionally, physically, and mentally.
I feel it, and I know Brooks is definitely feeling it.
Especially since Boyce and he have been going at it like cats and dogs on the ice.
You can almost cut the tension with a knife.
“Hey,” Brooks whispers as he rolls onto his side, pulling me in close to his body.
“Morning,” I say, snuggling into his chest. “What time do you have to be at the arena for morning skate?”
“In an hour,” he says as I hike my leg over his hip, pulling myself up to straddle him. “But I like where this is going currently.”
I lean forward, my lips finding his in a heated kiss. My tongue glides along his bottom lip as his lips part, allowing me entry, dancing with one another. His hands roam down my side before resting on my ass, giving it a good squeeze as I moan against his lips.
“This wasn’t supposed to turn into this,” I say, smiling against his lips as he continues to kiss me.
He plays with the hem of his oversized shirt I’m wearing, lifting it up over my head to reveal my bare breasts. “Oh yeah. Then what is this supposed to be?”
He leans forward and captures my right nipple in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the nipple before nipping at the hardened nub. My back arches as I moan out in pleasure, grinding down on his hardened length strained by his boxers.
Fuck.
Focus, Hayley. This isn’t about pleasure right now. It’s about telling Brooks the truth. The truth you’ve been trying to tell him since the finals started. The truth you should have told him a while ago.
Pushing my hands to his bare chest, I push him slowly away. “Brooks, we really need to talk.”
He groans out is frustration, falling back on the pillow. “Fuck, Hayley. We’ve barely had time for each other and with the little time I have right now, you wanna talk.”
“We were supposed to talk in Arizona.”
“You’re right,” he says, releasing a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry. Things have been crazy all week.”
Crazy. More like insane.
I climb off his lap and sit up with my head against the headboard.
This is it. Time to come clean. My mouth opens and closes a few times as I struggle with the words on the tip of my tongue.
My name is Hayley Richards. Yet nothing comes out.
I swallow the large lump in my throat, hoping it comes out, when the sound of Camden’s voice echoes on the other side of the bedroom door.
Can anything go right for me? I pull on Brooks’ oversized shirt before calling Cam to come in. I glance to Brooks who has an impassive look on his face. I know I pissed him off. I ruined a moment because I need to talk to him, talking that never happened. Once again.
I choke back my own frustration as I focus on the door Camden so quietly opens. It’s fine. I’ll tell him after they win the series tonight. But then I destroy his celebrating. Agh… why does this have to be so fucking difficult?
“Hey, Mom,” Cam says, plopping down on the foot of the bed. “Can I bring Bash with me to the game tonight?”
“Did you ask his parents?”
“Yup,” he says, popping the p at the end as if I’m dumb for even asking the question. “They said if you were okay with it, then they were okay with it. Mom, seriously.”
Okay, when did my little boy start acting like a bothered teenager? “Okay. It’s fine by me.”
“Sweeett,” he says, jumping up from the bed, running out of room mumbling things a mile per minute.
I roll over and look at Brooks, a lazy smile toying at his lips as he pulls me up toward him. His lips connecting with mine just as his phone pings from the nightstand. We both release a collective groan as he reaches for it, queuing up the text messages to see who it is.
“Shit. Coach wants us to come to the rink early,” he says as if the morning isn’t already ruined until now. “Got some last-minute game footage to review.” Another message pings on his phone as he shifts, sitting himself on the side of the bed. “And looks like I’m picking Halloway up now.”
He gets out of bed, heading straight to the bathroom to quickly do his morning routine before heading to the walk-in closet, emerging shortly after in a pair of low-riding running shorts and a Skipjacks tee.
My hands ache to hold him, pull him back into bed.
Talk to him about the secret eating me from the inside out.
But I know now is not the time. It’s like the universe is telling me to wait.
I’ve waited long enough though.
Sensing my disappointment again, he kneels back on the bed, crawling back toward me. “Hey, I promise we’ll talk,” he says, brushing his lips against my forehead before pulling back from me. “I love you.”
I nod, plastering on a weak smile as he climbs off the bed, exiting the room.
I climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Pulling my toothbrush out of the holder, I squeeze a generous glob on the bristle.
The quiet hum from the brush moving along my teeth fills the silent room as my mind wanders with the what ifs.
My name is Hayley Richards.
It shouldn’t be that hard to say, right? Yet I’ve struggled with that reality since the beginning of our relationship. And if I tell him now, would he accept who I am? That I’ve hidden the truth from him, or would he walk away from me without ever looking back?
I know I shouldn’t be thinking like that.
That Brooks could be genuine. Like me for me regardless of who my family is and the fact that I hid it.
Yet I’m terrified that my world is going to come crashing down the moment I say the words.
That he’s going to walk away from not only me but Camden, leaving not only one heart broken, but two.
The buzzing of my cell phone on the nightstand pulls me from the full-on panic attack I’m about to have. Spitting the leftover toothpaste from my mouth into the sink with a quick swoosh of water, I shuffle back to the bedroom. My hand clutching tightly around the phone as I read the text message.
Boyce: Can we meet? I think we need to talk.
My stomach clutches tightly as a knot forms. I reread the message over and over again, fuming as my anger builds. He’s been in town for two days, and now he wants to meet. To talk. Yeah, screw that.
Hayley: Talk? I think it’s best if you contact my lawyer.
Boyce: Come on, Hayl. Don’t be like that. I think we can sit down and have a civilized conversation without lawyers.
He can’t be serious.
Boyce: Please, Hayl. Just an hour of your time. That’s all I need and if you don’t like what I have to say, then we’ll let the lawyers handle it.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I should just let the lawyers handle it. Wait until August when we have our day in court. Yet, part of me wants to hear what he has to say. Whether it’s for Camden’s good or not.
Hayley: What time and where?
Boyce: Our bistro. Can you meet in 30?
I type out my response before tossing the phone next to me on the bed.
I fall back, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers for me, yet nothing is there.
Again, I’m left with nothing but what ifs.
Swallowing down the large lump in my throat, I make my way to the walk-in closet, dressing in my work clothes.
“Camden,” I call out as I make my way to the condo front door to slip on my Timberland boots.
“I’ll have George downstairs call Gram to have her pick you and Bash up for the game.
Don’t leave this apartment until George calls up here to let you know Gram’s here.
I have to run an errand before the game. ”
“Okay,” he says, oblivious to how flustered I currently am.
I make my way to my car, climbing into the driver’s seat and cranking the ignition. My heart races as I type out a quick text to Brooks, letting him know I’ll meet him at the arena. Throwing my car quickly in reverse, I back out of the spot, anxious for what’s ahead.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m seated in a booth toward the back of The Osprey Bistro.
It’s been ten years since I’ve stepped foot in this place.
The place that we considered ours. It was the one place that Boyce and I came to escape our families, our responsibilities and just be us.
It was a plus that it was on the other side of town, so it made it that much more exclusive to us and only us.
However, after Boyce broke things off with me, I haven’t been able to come within five miles of this place. And there’s a reason for that. As I sit here waiting for Boyce to arrive, I wring my hands back and forth in an uncomfortable silence, plagued by all the memories we once shared here.
The plans we made.
The kisses we shared.
The I love yous.
They all come rushing back to me like a tsunami crashing into the shore, pulling me slowly back out to sea as another wave builds.
The undertow pulling me under, refusing to let up.
It’s why I haven’t been here. It hurts to be here.
To know that everything we shared sitting in these seats was all a lie.
That it never meant anything. Yet here I sit.
Waiting for my own personal executioner.
“Hayley.” Boyce’s voice comes from behind me. I don’t turn around to acknowledge him. Or to know that he’s sporting his signature smirk, showcasing a dimple to die for. The same smirk that had me willing to believe anything that came out of his mouth.
He takes his spot opposite me in the booth, placing his phone face down on the table before crossing him arms and leaning on the table. “Boyce,” I murmur. My tone is filled with uncertainty and warning. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
He leans back into the booth seat, leaving one arm resting on the table as his gaze rakes over my face before making its slow, uncomfortable perusal of my body. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as a deafening silence fills the uncrowded bistro.
“You look good.”
“Cut the shit, Boyce. What do you want?” I snap, not allowing him to distract me or change the reason why we’re here.
“Never were one to make small talk,” he says as the waitress comes over to take our drink order. Sensing that it isn’t the right time, she scurries away to make the drinks. “Look, I know I fucked up.”
“You’re right. You fucked up. Now if that’s all you brought me here to say, then I’m leaving,” I say as I stand from my seat, Boyce darts his hand out, grabbing my wrist to stop me.
“Sit, Hayley. We’re not done,” he says in a tone I can’t quite put my finger on.
Is it remorse? I can’t quite tell, but it has my attention. Curious as to what he wants to say.
Slowly, I slide back into the booth, pulling my arm free from his grasp before crossing them over my chest. “You have ten minutes, so say what you have to say.”
He lets out a low chuckle as his lips curl up on one side, once again showcasing that fucking dimple. It’s like kryptonite. “I fucked up.”
“You already said that.”
“Would you stop fucking interrupting me and let me fucking talk?” he spits as he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Hair that once upon a time I wouldn’t mind pulling and tugging.
“I made mistakes in my life. That’s for sure, and I know I can’t go back in time and change anything, but I can change how things go now.
I can be the man you need me to be. The father Camden needs. ”
“What are you saying, Boyce?”
“I want us to be a family again, Hayl. You. Me. Camden. I want to make this work between us. Not just as co-parents but as a couple.”
Hold the fucking phone.
Did I just hear that right? I swear there has to be some wax obstructing my hearing right now.
There’s no way in hell Boyce just said he wants me back.
A second chance.
A second chance to what? Prove exactly why we’re not together now. Why he broke my heart in the first place? To be Camden’s father for how long before he lets him down again.
This has to be some sort of sick joke. In fact, if I knew for a fact that Punk’d was no longer a TV show, I would think I’m the next guest.
“Family?” I snap as a low chuckle vibrates across my chest. “When were we ever a family, Boyce? You left me the minute I told you I was pregnant.”
“I know…”
“You told everyone I was a liar. You denied Camden being yours that very moment I told you. You made me out to be some slut who slept around. But the moment a blood test proves you wrong, you want to come back into his life. Our life. And act as if you were here all along. That all the wrongs you committed in the past can be forgiven.”
He sighs while wiping his sweaty palms along his jeans. “I wish I could go back and take back everything that happened, but I know I can’t. But I want the chance to make it right. to try to be the man you needed.”
“And what happens to you and Miss Arizona? You’ll end your engagement just like that? Leave that whole life you created behind?”
He stays quiet as if he hadn’t thought about the fact he’s engaged.
“Right, you didn’t think that far ahead. Am I right? Tell me this, Boyce, do you really want to be Camden’s father or is all of this going down because of bad publicity? Or is it because of Brooks?” I challenge as he stays stone faced.
My emotions heighten as the anger I’ve kept at bay for years finally rears its ugly head. My fists clench tightly under the table as I grit my teeth, seething at what transpired. How could he think this was any sort of option? He’s hurt me, broken my trust more times than I can count.
I release a breath before pulling my wallet from my purse, frustrated by his lack of silence.
Tossing a twenty onto the table, I stand ready to walk away but pausing for a moment more.
“You know what, Boyce. The best thing you can do for Camden is to sign over your rights. You weren’t in his life ten years ago, so what’s really the point of being in his life now?
” I readjust my purse on my shoulder. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to throw a wrench into the perfect life you’re currently building. ”
With my head held high, I walk out of the bistro, just as broken as I went in. Well, okay, maybe I’m not as bad as I once was, but that has nothing to do with Boyce. Boyce could never fix what he has broken, not even if he came to me ten years ago in an attempt to fix things.
Brooks.
Brooks has fixed me. He’s slowly been piecing me back together.
But how na?ve I am to think that the pieces are firmly back in place. That soon what was once on the mend will shatter again.