Chapter 30
Jansen
I ’m in the cave at Caparelli, the place Bianca loves. I hear voices on the stone stairs and I snap to attention
Bianca appears and stops as she sees the candlelight. “What is going on?” Then she glances around and sees me. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and her chest rises on a big breath in. She’s wearing ripped jeans and a black T-shirt that says bitches be sippin’ and she looks messy and brilliant and so damn adorable.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
“Go on,” Rosa says from behind Bianca.
Bianca turns and looks at her over her shoulder. “What is this?”
“You two need to talk.” Rosa smiles at her sister, then at me.
That smile reassures me that I’m doing the right thing.
Yeah, I recruited Rosa to help me. Luckily, she was a willing accomplice. And with that smile, she disappears back up the stairs.
Bianca slowly steps down the remaining stairs. She eyes me warily, a small groove between her eyebrows, a troubled bow to her mouth. “I thought you were in Los Angeles.”
“How did you hear that?” I only told one person where I was going.
“Millie said she heard it from Oren at the market.”
I throw up my hands. “How the hell did he know?”
“Millie said his sister works at the airport in San Franciso and she must have seen you.”
“Jesus Christ.” I rub my forehead.
Bianca shrugs. “That’s how it goes here.” Her top teeth sink into her bottom lip briefly. “Why did you go to Los Angeles?”
I can read the apprehension and worry in her expression. “I had to talk to Stephanie.”
Her bottom lip quivers but she catches it her teeth again. “That’s what I thought. You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”
“Fuck, no.” But I sigh because I don’t blame her for jumping to that ludicrous conclusion. Serves me right.
I’m standing next to an oak barrel that I’m using as a table. I reach for the bottle of wine there and pour some into two glasses. “Here. We do need to talk.”
“Well.” She walks closer. “You know I can’t turn down wine.” Her gaze lowers to the bottle and she lifts eyes that are now as big and round as hockey pucks. “That’s my wine.”
“I had to taste it.” I hand her a glass.
She lets out a short puff of air and a ghost of a smile passes over her lips. “Jansen.”
I shrug.
“Where did you get it? I don’t think you can find it here.”
“Los Angeles. I had to hunt all over the fucking city for it, but I found it.”
Her lips twitch. “So taste it,” she prods me gently. “Tell me what you think.”
I swirl the glass, inhale the aromas. “Complex,” I say. “Although I’m probably the least qualified person to be judging this.”
Her lips curve upwards a little more.
I taste the wine and savor it, concentrating. “Intense. I taste minerals.”
She nods.
“Am I crazy to say I taste peppers? Like, roasted red pepper.”
Her smile broadens. “Not crazy at all.”
“Mmm…black cherry. Chocolate. And…” I sip again. “Spices. I’m not sure what they are. Cinnamon, maybe? And a hint of vanilla, which I think is from aging in oak.”
“Yes.”
“It’s amazing, Bianca. Mouth watering. I can see why it’s nominated for an award.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes glow with pleasure.
“Would you please sit?” I gesture at the chairs I brought down here.
“Um. Okay.” She lowers her cute butt to one of the chairs., taking in the flickering candles and bouquet of purple flowers.
I sit, too. “I had to talk to you before you leave.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I want to apologize. And I want tell you everything. Things I’m not proud of. Things that are humiliating.”
Her forehead pinches together between her eyebrows.
“I know you’re leaving.” I clear the sudden thickness in my throat. “I know I screwed up when I asked you to stay. I’m not good at this.”
She watches me with a faint droop of her eyelids.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” I assure her. “If you want to go back to Argentina that’s what you should do. You know what’s best for you. And your career. I want that for you.”
She gives a tiny nod, emotions flickering in her eyes. I sense her guardedness.
I don’t blame her.
It’s fucking terrifying, opening yourself up to someone who might kick you in the nuts, knife you in the gut, break your heart. I know pain—I’m a hockey player. But this is different. This is Bianca. This is more than just a broken bone or bruised ribs. This is everything.
I set my wine glass on the table and slide off my chair and onto my knees in front of her. Her eyes fly open wide and she blinks rapidly. “What are you doing?”
“This is me being vulnerable.” My eyes are burning and I squeeze them briefly shut.
She sucks in a shaky breath, her eyes glossy.
“I’m so sorry, Bianca. I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole.”
She watches me, her wine forgotten.
“I have a hard time talking about my feelings. Hell, sometimes I have a hard time even knowing I have feelings.”
She huffs out a small laugh. “Yes.”
“So even if it’s too late for us, I wanted to get my shit together and man up and tell you the truth. I screwed up with my marriage. I don’t want to screw up again. That’s why I went to talk to Stephanie. She had some harsh truths for me. She told me them years ago, but I kind of tuned them out. I felt like she was blaming me for her cheating. And that pissed me off. I didn’t want to hear that.”
Her eyes grow larger. “She blamed you ?”
I shake my head. “No, not really. She was trying to tell me why she cheated. How she felt. She felt like I didn’t love her anymore. She felt alone.” I suck in a breath, inflating my tight lungs. “And that was my fault. I haven’t told you how bad things were after I retired.”
I tell her more details about my depression and how my friends helped me get out of it. That part’s embarrassing, too, but she doesn’t seem horrified or disgusted. No judgment from her, either.
“I came here for a fresh start. Something to give my life meaning, something I could start over with. But I wasn’t letting go of the past. I wasn’t being honest with myself. And I wasn’t being honest with you. Again, I’m sorry. I know that building real connections with people takes honesty. And vulnerability.” I cough. “The way I was raised was to be tough. You definitely don’t cry when you get hit on the ice. You don’t talk about feelings, except maybe tough masculine feelings—” She opens her mouth but I keep going. “Which is bullshit, because feelings aren’t masculine or feminine. We all have them.”
She smiles.
“I want to let go of the past. I think talking to Stephanie will help with that. I apologized to her, too.” I exhale sharply. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she cheated on me. It was embarrassing.”
Her forehead puckers. “What? Why?”
I shake my head, rubbing my forehead. “The other thing I didn’t tell you is that Stephanie cheated on me with one of my teammates.”
She gulps in air, her eyes flying open wide. “Oh no.”
“Yeah.” My mouth twists wryly. “That made it even harder. It was humiliating enough, but everybody knew about it. All my former teammates, all the gossip blogs.” I shake my head. “I might have been able to stay in touch with the team better if that hadn’t happened, but the last thing I wanted to do was see Austin. Or most of the guys, really. Everybody feeling sorry for me. At least my buddies Frenchy and Copper made an effort to see me.”
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I already hated Stephanie, but now I do even more.”
I let one side of my mouth hook up at that. “My self-image had already taken a big hit after retiring. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I felt like nobody. Then…when you get cheated on, it feels like there’s something wrong with you. And it was with someone I knew, who I thought was a friend, and they’re still together.” I shake my head. “I didn’t want to talk about it at all.”
Her eyes slowly close, then open again. “I…yeah. I felt hurt that you didn’t tell me, though. I felt like you didn’t trust me, or care enough about me to talk about things like that, when I’d shared so much with you.”
“Fuck.” I groan miserably. “I am so, so sorry. Hurting you is the last thing I ever want to do. I was being a selfish dickhead. I thought making myself vulnerable would get me hurt. And yeah, that happens. But…” I drag a hand down over my face. “The other thing I did in LA was see the therapist I worked with. She told me…when you don’t let yourself be vulnerable, you’re basically telling yourself you’re not worthy of acceptance and love. Like, it’s the opposite of what you think. You think you’re protecting yourself. But when you open up, you make the conscious decision that what you’re showing other people is worthy.” I blow out a breath, my heart rampaging in my chest. “For a long time I didn’t feel worthy. But then I spent time here, making friends, with Miles and Nolan and Ana and Millie, with the people who work for me. And you. You made me feel like maybe I am worth it.”
She makes a small, distressed sound, eyebrows pulled down.
“I don’t want to feel like a loser. I don’t want to make the same mistakes I did in my marriage. You reminded me—you either win or you learn.”
Her eyes flicker and a hint of a smile brushes her lips.
“So if it takes being brave enough to tell you the truth about me, and tell you how I feel about you, then that’s what I’m gonna do.” I meet her eyes. “I love you, Bianca.”
She gazes at me wordlessly, eyes big and shiny.
“I love your crazy questions. I love your passion for wine. I love your intelligence and your sense of fun and how hard you work.”
Her bottom lip quivers.
“I love that you love my dog. And I also love your spectacular tits and ass and?—”
“Jansen!” She drops her head back. But she’s smiling.
“Sorry. I mean, not sorry, I do love your body and your beautiful face and your stained fingers.” I grin. “And I know you’re leaving. Like I said, I won’t ask you to stay. It’s your decision and if you go back to Argentina, I’ll support you. It’ll break my fuckin’ heart, but I want you to live your dreams.”
There’s a moment of silence. She looks like she’s fighting emotion. Then she says, “I’m sorry, too.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I’m sorry I was a mess. I guess I still am, but I’ve been told some hard truths, too, and I’ve reflected on them and I’ve figured out some things—I think.” She takes a breath. “And you’re right. Letting go of the past is something we have to do if we want to move forward. I let the past control my feelings about being back here. About my family and how they see me.”
“I know you want their respect. But your value doesn’t decrease because they can’t see your worth. And if they don’t, they’re just boneheads. You have to see your worth.”
Her eyes go glossy and her bottom lip trembles. “Yes. That’s exactly right.” She composes herself. “Rosa told me not to do it again—to leave because I’m afraid. And the truth is…I am afraid.”
Jesus. It’s even hard to ask about other people’s feelings. But I want to know. And…it’s Bianca. I need to know what she’s afraid of so I can slay those dragons for her. So I can defend her and protect her and cherish her. So I can be her warrior, her guardian…so I can give my life for her.
I may be getting a little dramatic.
“What are you afraid of?” I ask gently. She seems so confident and sure of her abilities, so self-possessed and fearless. But we all have things we’re afraid of.
A chirping noise has us both straightening.
“That’s a fucking cricket,” she mutters, eyes sweeping around the cellar.
“It is.” I grin. “Sorry. I was just thinking that we all have things we’re afraid of and then the damn cricket pipes up.”
Her lips twitch. “Well, that’s one thing, yeah. But…I’m afraid of so many things. I’m afraid my mother left me because there’s something wrong with me. I’m afraid that anyone I care about will leave me. I’m afraid I’ll never live up to the family name.”
“Bianca.”
“I know.” She holds up a hand. “I know. My career in Argentina was going great. I’m nominated for a big award. But coming home, I still felt I had to prove my worth to my family. To this community. But you’re right. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone. Just to me.”
I smile.
“And Rosa was right. I’ve always been afraid to let people in because it hurts being left. So I left. When I came home, I didn’t want to get involved with people. All I wanted was help my sisters get things started with Caparelli and then high tail it back to Castillo Lorenzo. But things…changed.”
My heart thuds faster. Harder.
Chirrrup. Chirrup. Chirrup.
Bianca’s eyes flicker.
I huff out a frustrated laugh as I push up to standing and follow the noise. The little creature is behind a barrel. I peer down there, but it’s dark, so I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight. Aha. I grab the broom I used earlier to sweep down dust and cobwebs and brush the insect out. It immediately leaps, trying to get away. I bring the broom down on it, not too hard; he doesn’t deserve to die. Then I manage to scoop him into my hand. “Be right back.”
After depositing him outside—“Be free, little one”—I return to the cellar.
Bianca’s sitting there wide-eyed, gripping her wine glass. “You saved him.”
“Yeah.”
She smiles, a slow, soft smile. “My hero.”
Fuck, yeah. I want to be her hero. Even though I know she doesn’t need rescuing, I want to be her refuge. Her champion. I return to my position on the floor, on my knees, which are now feeling the hardness of the stone. I repress the wince. I take her wine glass and set it next to mine, then curl my fingers around hers. “Okay.” My voice is scratchy. “Where were we? You said things changed.”
“Right. Um. Actually, maybe things didn’t change. Maybe I changed.”
I lift my chin.
“I came home reluctantly. I left because I wanted to get away from the family baggage, make a name for myself. This place is insular. Everyone knows you. They know your history, good and bad. Rumors spread fast. But also…the people are good. My friends are good. My family is…well, Uncle Geno is pretty stubborn, but my cousins are good people, too. So maybe it’s me. I’m seeing things differently. I’m seeing myself differently. And…” She swallows. “There’s you.”
My heart goes into high gear, blood pumping wildly in my veins.
“I already told you I fell in love with you. That wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to just have fun. But I started feeling more. That night I found out about your wife cheating on you. I had just realized that I was in love with you. And things felt…not like a business dinner and I thought maybe you felt the same. But then you told my cousins something important about you, that you’d never told me. And it hurt. Because bam bam in the ham is hot, but?—”
I choke. And sputter. “ What? ”
She grins. “Sorry. Ana said that. What I’m saying is, sex is great but it made me sad that that’s all you wanted from me.”
“Jesus.” I close my eyes on the stabbing sensation in my chest.
“It was how I felt! I was good enough to bang but not good enough to talk to. To tell me all the things that make you you . You didn’t trust me with your story. Your vulnerabilities. It wasn’t enough for me anymore, and I got scared. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.”
A wave of hot shame washes through me. “I’m sorry.” I tilt my head back, then open my eyes to meet hers. “I was doing the same thing. Trying to protect myself.” I let out a low laugh. “I really thought I was being brave and open when I asked you to stay. I thought you would know what that meant.”
She lowers her chin, pouting a little. “I thought it meant you wanted to keep boinking.”
My heart burns behind my sternum. “That wasn’t it. But how would you have known? I’m an idiot, as Miles and Nolan helpfully pointed out. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”
Her lips tremble.
I reach for a small shopping bag sitting on the barrel. “I have a gift for you. I bought it a long time ago. Because I think I fell for you the first night we met.”
She takes it, eyeing me curiously. With her head cocked, she opens the bag and pulls out purple tissue paper, then unwraps a puddle of purple silk. Her eyes widen. “Oh my God.” She holds up the slip. “Oh my God.”
I swipe a hand down my face. “I don’t know why I bought it. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, and I kept thinking about you wearing that. I felt like a bonehead, but…” I shrug.
She looks up at me, eyes glowing. “So you really did think I’d look sexy in this.”
A smile tugs my lips. “Oh, hell yeah. Of course you look sexy in cut-offs, rubber boots, and a stained T-shirt.”
Her smile is luminous.
“Even if I’ll never have a chance to see you in it, I thought you should have it. So you know that you are sexy and beautiful and fascinating.”
The candlelight glimmers on the wetness at her eyes. “I want you to see me in it.”
My heart stutters. And literally stops. I try to talk, but my throat is sandpaper. “I won’t hold you back from your dreams. What I want most of all is for you to be happy.”
She gazes back at me, her beautiful face wearing an expression of steady calmness. “I’m not leaving.”