Chapter 14
TRAVIS
I open the back door of my SUV and toss my duffel in the back seat next to my suitcase while I listen to Wade go on and on about the Dow and interest rates. I don’t really care, but I know I should care so I let him yap until there’s a silence that indicates maybe he’s done.
“Sounds like I still have enough money to live,” I say. It’s all I really care about. Sure, the excess and luxury are fun but if it all went away tomorrow, I’d be okay with it.
“If you didn’t, then I’d be the worst advisor ever.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “It’d take a dumb fuck to lose this much money.”
“I appreciate you,” I tell him. He isn’t dumb.
In fact, he came highly recommended. If I had one complaint, it’s that he protects my money a little too well.
I’d be happy risking more, donating it or just giving it away, but he seems to think I should be smart and plan for retirement and such.
I’m not fantastic at money management but even I can see that there’s enough for several lifetimes.
“One more thing,” he says as Hannah’s purple Jeep pulls into the driveway next door and my heart rate picks up speed.
It’s been two days since she left me alone in the honeymoon suite.
She’s avoided my texts and must have come home late in the evenings and left early in the morning because it’s the first I’ve seen anything of her since I got back.
And I’ve been keeping an eye out. Okay, two eyes, both of them glued to the windows watching for her.
I shut the back passenger door of my Range Rover and round behind it to walk over to Hannah.
“I got a notification this morning that your inheritance money has been deposited.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“I thought so too, but I double-checked. Ten million dollars is being transferred now that you’ve met the fund stipulations.”
“No. That can’t be right.”
Hannah is out of her Jeep now and looking my way. Even from this distance I can tell she’s deciding whether she wants to sprint inside or get back in her Jeep and run me over. If it’s all the same to her, I think I’d prefer the latter. The avoidance is killing me.
“With your birthday last week, maybe your parents decided to remove the other stipulations.”
“My grandfather set it up before he died, but even if my parents had control of it, they aren’t that thoughtful,” I say, starting across the yard. “There has to be a mistake. They put those stipulations in there hoping I’d never find someone dumb enough to marry me.”
Wade chuckles, but slowly my own words strike a nerve. Holy shit. No. They can’t possibly know. Except…I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
Wade is mid-sentence again, but I haven’t heard a word of what he’s said.
“I have to go,” I say, interrupting him.
“Sure. Good luck in Boston.”
“Thanks.” I hang up, not taking my eyes off Hannah. She hasn’t moved from beside her Jeep, but she shuffles awkwardly like she’s already regretting talking to me.
“Hey,” I say when I get to her (great opening, loser) and slide my phone into my front pants pocket. “Just getting back from the gym?”
I hold back a groan. I used to think I was good at talking to women, but Hannah brings out the worst in me.
“Yeah.” Her stare briefly scans my attire. Can she tell I’m wearing the same shirt she slept in forty-eight hours ago? I do have other white button-down shirts, but this one still smells like her. Weird? Likely.
“I’m glad I caught you before I left.” I hitch a thumb toward my packed car. “We have an away game tonight.”
She nods. She’s giving me nothing. I’m seconds from babbling about the leaves turning colors or asking if she’s seen any good movies lately. So agonizing.
Fuck it. It’s already painful. Why beat around the bush? Unless it’s her bush of course, then sign me up. Except she doesn’t have one of those—something I’ve thought about many, many times. But I digress.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Her pupils flare quickly then she smooths out the panicked expression. “No. I mean, fine, yes, I have.”
I huff a small laugh. “I wasn’t expecting you to admit it.”
“I can change my answer if you’d like.”
“I’d love nothing more than to stand here talking to you, but I have to get going so maybe I’ll just let it slide.”
She nods, giving me an opening to keep going.
“We need to talk about Vegas.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. It shouldn’t be such a blow to my pride that she regrets that night, considering the circumstances, but I feel my ego shrink to half its size anyway.
“You ran out before I could ask how you want to handle it.”
“You’re right. I was spiraling but we do need to take care of it. I planned to hire a lawyer and start the paperwork to…”
“Get our hasty Vegas wedding annulled?” I try to inject enough humor into my tone to make things less awkward but I’m not sure I manage it.
Her lips press together and I get another nod.
“Right.” I pull at the neck of my shirt to keep it from strangling me, but it’s already unbuttoned. “I figured as much.”
I did, but is it too big of a stretch to hope she was a little more excited about being legally attached to me?
“I would have already done it, but I need to move some money around first.” Her gaze darts around and she tucks a strand of hair behind one ear.
Money is one of many things we haven’t really discussed, but she was upset about losing her sponsor and she mentioned a lack of funds being a reason she almost didn’t go to Vegas, so I’m guessing it’s a touchy subject.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Really?” It’s the happiest she’s looked since I walked over.
“Yeah. I’ll have everything drawn up and you can just sign.” I smile like it’s no big deal. I do this all the time. Look how easy it is to divorce me? I’m a mother-pucking catch.
“Thank you.” She lets out a long breath.
And then there’s nothing else to say. Is it okay to ask your wife out on a date while you’re talking about divorce?
Things may have taken a surprising turn in Vegas, but that night was…
fun, and she was…great. For weeks I’ve been trying to hang out with her.
I built her up in my mind based on, admittedly, not a lot of concrete facts.
Just feelings. But now that I’ve spent time with her, I think my gut was right.
Which means I need to figure out how to win over my soon-to-be ex-wife.
After the game, we get right back on the jet. Some of the guys are playing cards but I wasn’t feeling up for it.
We won and I actually played well. Two goals and an assist. I should be elated.
Coach certainly was. My teammates too. It’s a hard thing to watch guys struggle and know there isn’t anything you can do but let them work out their shit.
They want me to be on top of my game as much as I do.
The trouble is I don’t know why tonight was good.
Dumb luck? Star alignment? Hell freezing over?
I didn’t do anything different. In fact, it’s probably the least focused I’ve been on hockey since…ever. I’ve always been able to push away everything else and enjoy the game. It was my haven far before it was my job.
But tonight, my thoughts were on Vegas. Hannah and I dancing, talking, kissing… Which was followed swiftly by the look of relief on her face when I told her I’d file the paperwork to end our marriage.
And that’s to say nothing of the mess with my inheritance. I’m avoiding all thoughts on that like it doesn’t exist. It shouldn’t. Inheritances are dumb. Especially from family you don’t speak to and when they come with ridiculous clauses and stipulations on how to live your life. No, thank you.
Nick plops down in the seat beside me. I jut my chin in greeting. He’s one of the few guys I can count on to let me sit in silence.
I go back to pretending I’m listening to music, my headphones are on as a decoy, and Nick is texting with Ruby.
I know this because she’s the only person he could be texting when all his other friends are here.
Also, he’s smiling. She’s also the only person that gets that kind of smile out of him.
Sigh. Usually their happiness makes me feel all sappy and gooey inside.
Tonight, it’s a stark reminder that I’m not cut out for that.
Letting my head fall back against the seat, I close my eyes. I’ve barely slept this week so I should be tired. Instead, my mind spins. I could have cured world hunger or won a Nobel Prize by now if I applied all these Hannah-focused thoughts to something more productive.
Hannah. That hair and those lips. Her mouth really does something for me.
So soft and perfect and…Nope. Nope. Nope.
Think hockey thoughts. Only sticks and pucks and sweaty guys.
And…never mind, it’s useless. Even thinking about sweaty guys makes my thoughts immediately go to sweaty, naked Hannah instead.
I am in hell.
A knock on my door Friday night pulls me from the reality TV show I’ve been binge-watching.
“Just leave it,” I yell to the delivery guy.
The knocking continues, now more insistent.
“Fucking hell.” I get to my feet, annoyed. I specifically noted on the order to leave the pizza at the front door.
Pulling open the door with a little more force than necessary, I’m taken aback when it’s not the pizza delivery. Or at least not the one I was expecting.
D-Low and Shep stand on the doorstep. Shep has my pizza and D-Low a twelve-pack of beer.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, staring at them.
“You look like hell.” D-Low doesn’t wait for an invitation before waltzing past me into the house.
“Yeah, come on in,” I mutter as I step back and wave Shep in too.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” D-Low calls as he sets the beer down on the coffee table.
“Some people might take that as a sign I didn’t want company.”
“You’ve been hiding out and sulking all week. This is an intervention.” D-Low tosses me a beer.
“Should have brought something harder than Modelo.” I twist off the top and shoot it at him between my thumb and middle finger.