Chapter 20
“Do you mind if I get comfortable?” At this point, I was doing everything in my power to avoid this conversation. Even though I knew it was going to happen one way or another.
It was a slip of the tongue. That’s what Spencer had the ability to do to me lately—let my control slip from my fingertips. Just when I thought he allowed my walls to come down brick by brick, a wrecking ball came through instead, completely smashing them to the ground.
“Make yourself at home.” He smirked, and the butterflies in my stomach were relentless.
Just last night, Spencer moved my new clothes to a pile in the corner. Tonight, they’d been cleaned up.
I guess I’d have to take a look around.
His bedroom was lacking a dresser and any storage space, so for the first time, I walked into his closet.
Holy shit.
The closet of my fucking dreams.
Mahogany hardwood floors were spread throughout, and a large area rug surrounded the center. Gliding my feet along the carpet was equivalent to experiencing sand on a beach for the first time.
A massive island bigger than most people’s kitchen counters sat in the middle of the closet with a modern chandelier hanging above, illuminating the room with warm, inviting tones.
I ran my finger along each suit, dress shirt, and sleek piece of wood holding it all together. His clothes were perfectly spaced, almost looking untouched. Drawers were filled with watches, ties, socks, underwear, and anything you could think of that wouldn’t be hung in a showy way.
To get dressed in a closet of this caliber was an experience of its own.
After I picked my jaw off the floor, I noticed an entire corner with clothes that definitely didn’t look like something he would wear.
I hadn’t had the chance to rummage through it all last night to notice he’d bought even more than I thought.
What I assumed were bags full of athletic wear and pajamas, apparently also had sequins, floor length gowns, and something for every occasion.
Underneath the space he’d chosen to hang all the new clothes—clothing that was mine—were drawers full of everything else that he’d gotten for me. Lingerie, pajamas, silks, and soft cotton I couldn’t wait to slip over my body.
This time, I picked out some comfy leggings and paired them with an oversized shirt. Except the shirt wasn’t from my side of the closet.
Once I was dressed, I was surprised to find Spencer sitting on the couch that I swore looked stiff because it was all for show and not for leisure.
His eyes met mine, then slowly worked down my body.
“Out of all the clothes in that closet, you settled on one of my old hockey shirts?”
My lips turned up as I shrugged.
“Looked comfy. Plus, it smells like you. Hope you don’t mind.” I took a seat next to him on the couch. The fear I once held of getting too close to him started to slip away.
“Trust me, I don’t mind at all. Back when I played, this would have been a wet dream for me—seeing my number on your back and the team’s name stretched across your tits.” His palm wrapped across the back of my neck as he pulled me close and brought his lips to my forehead for a simple kiss.
How was it that he could say dirty things like that and follow it up with a kiss to the forehead? If I weren’t filled with anxiety about what we needed to talk about, then I’d take him in the next room and wrap my lips around his cock while wearing his shirt.
Clearing my throat and shooing away the dirty thoughts, I asked, “You played hockey, huh?”
“Back in the day. I loved all sports and actually played a few growing up until I went into high school. Then I decided to focus all my time and energy on hockey. Got lucky enough to get a full ride to play at Michigan State, went on to play in the American Hockey League, but then I got hurt, and it kind of ended my career.”
Picturing a younger version of Spencer only made me like him more.
Hearing him speak of his past built up a craving inside of me for a night of pillow talk and twenty-one questions to get to know each other better.
The deep conversations were important, but these tidbits of information were just as intriguing.
It was a look inside of his life and a little piece of him he was choosing to share with me.
“So, how did you get into being a sports agent then?”
Before Spencer answered, he smiled, his face lighting up.
“I couldn’t imagine doing something for a living that didn’t involve hockey in some way. It was my life. If I couldn’t play, I wanted to help others make their dreams of playing in the NHL come true. Working with athletes in other sports is just a bonus.”
“I’m sure this love for hockey is one reason you and Jayson get along so well.”
“Yeah, we do have that in common.”
While he didn’t seem to mind talking about himself, his answers were getting shorter, and his eyes were pleading with me to bring the conversation back to what I said at the bar.
It was time.
“I’m afraid, Spencer.”
“Of what?” He tucked my hair behind my ear, and I leaned into his comfort.
“Of rejection. Of falling for someone and the feelings not being returned. Being alone. Judgement from my mistakes. Having to pay for those mistakes twice. Not being allowed to choose my happiness and letting my ex control my life so much that I’m working this job to make it all go away. The list goes on.”
“Avery,” he squeezed my hand, “how is your ex involved in your work? Please tell me what he’s holding over your head.” His voice was calm, but I could see the rage burning behind his eyes.
My time was up. I had to tell him the full story.
“For starters, when I said I could relate when you mentioned your son and his addiction, that was actually kind of shitty of me to let my word vomit take over when you were sharing a part of yourself with me.” My fingers ran along the frayed edges of the old hockey shirt.
“Don’t worry about that. We can always bring the conversation back to me another time. But for now, I’d really like to know what I’ve been dying to know all along—why do you need the money so bad, Avery?”
His thumb ran circles around my hand, calming me to the point that I knew I was safe with what I was about to tell him.
“One day, shortly after we moved here, we met some people while we were out. We didn’t know anyone, and we didn’t have friends, so we were trying to entertain anyone who seemed like a good time when we were out and about. Trying to make it on our own in a new city, you know?”
He nodded, encouraging me to continue.
Trying to calm my nerves, I took a deep breath.
“Well, growing up, I didn’t drink or party often.
I kept to myself a lot. Didn’t really know what it was like to have good friends.
I was desperate for a redo when we moved here.
I wanted to rebrand myself, make friends, make something of myself, and put the past behind me.
So, out of this group of people we’d met—some girls, some guys—my ex invited a couple of the guys back to our place after a day of reckless day drinking.
I was pretty fucked up, so I was just going to let them all chill when we got back and sleep off the hang over that was bound to happen. ”
My knee started to bounce, and tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to escape. The only time I’d told this story was to Andi and Peyton shortly after it happened. We didn’t speak of this—of him. I simply tried to move on from him as best as I could, given the circumstances.
“Hey, hey.” Spencer’s palm cupped my jaw, pulling me into his large embrace. “I can tell whatever you’re trying to express weighs heavily on you, and I want you to know how much I appreciate you opening up to me. I’m here for you, Bella.”
My head rested on his chest; his warm, musky scent and the metronome of his heart helped bring me back down to earth.
Being enveloped in his arms made it easier to speak. No eye contact. Just his warmth surrounding me.
My head rose up and down with each deep breath he took.
“They convinced me to stick around and hang out with them.” I cleared my throat in an attempt to finish the story.
“I was trying to give my ex some time to bond with a few new hopeful friends, but when they asked me to stick around, it felt nice to feel wanted. We stayed up all night playing drinking games … games that got pushed too far. I had this stupid naive feeling within me that I needed to do whatever it took to make my boyfriend happy. I couldn’t lose him when he’d been my saving grace as a kid. ”
A lone tear rolled down my cheek, landing on Spencer’s shirt. And then another. And another. Opening up old wounds that I’d purposely shoved down so deep they wouldn’t see the light of day were harder to confront than I thought.
Why couldn’t I have met Spencer a year from now? When I’d have Jax paid off, live in a place that wasn’t my van, and I could have a normal life. Then I could start a new relationship and keep my skeletons in my closet where they belonged.
“Fuck, Avery. Please don’t cry.” Spencer lifted my chin just for me to force it back down so he wouldn’t see my past streaming down my face.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying. It’s stupid and I’m having a weak moment.” Wiping my tears away, I sucked in a deep breath.
“I don’t know the full story yet, but I can tell you’ve been through something traumatic. You’re allowed to bring those feelings to life, Avery.”
He was so wise. So much older. But he’d never get it.
“It’s okay if you need more time,” he added.
“No. No, I can do this,” I lied, knowing how hard this next part was going to be to admit. Knowing he could walk away and realize that I was simply too much. Too much baggage. Too much of a trainwreck. Too young. Too used and abused.