Chapter 12
12
Ella had been drifting away to the deep rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat when his comment ripped her by the roots of her hair back to consciousness. For a few seconds everything stopped as his words sank in.
How in the hell did he know that?
Ice-cold dread spread frigid tentacles through her veins. Her heart beat like bullets, hitting her chest from the inside. She pushed herself away from him, dragging the sheet with her, anchoring it firmly under her armpits.
Ella looked at the vases and for the first time in her life they revolted her. They’d been the only thing – aside from Cam – she’d taken from the house after she’d packed it up and left it for the lawyer to sell.
The only link to her mother. Not Rachel – her mother .
The woman she’d loved and known before the ugly truth of who she was had infected her memories like a cancer.
A rising urge to hurl the vases against the wall and watch them smash into a pile of ruby shards shook Ella to the core.
“Ella?”
She must have looked strange because he was looking at her warily, a frown crinkling his brow. “Yes, Jake.” Her voice trembled which Ella hated but her feelings were too big right now to act cool. “They are.”
Seemingly reassured by her answer, he nodded, glancing at them again. “I thought so. I always thought it was pretty cool how they refracted that weird red light around her room.”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
The vain flicker of hope that maybe he’d just heard about the vases through grubby boys’ talk was brutally snuffed out.
Ella leaped out of bed, her mind scattering as she searched for something to put on. Jake’s coyness earlier about the experienced woman who had taken his virginity formed a bilious slick in her gut.
Oh God… she should have guessed who it was then.
Roger Hillman’s words from last night – come on, Jake, you remember Rachel, right? – caused a pain in her chest so severe she thought she was having a heart attack. Ella rubbed at it, trying to ease it as she threw Jake’s jersey over her head before turning to face him.
Adrenaline flooded her system as her fight-or-flight response took hold. “I think it’s time you left.” She crossed her arms around her middle to stop her hands from shaking.
How could he?
How could he have touched her, made love to her, when he’d been with Rachel first?
The frown from before returned, the furrows deep enough now to plant seeds. He levered himself upright. “Okay… what the hell just happened?”
“Oh, Jake.” Ella fought against the urge to crumple as she was swamped by a tide of despair. “Don’t be so bloody obtuse. The vases, Jake. The vases.”
She saw the moment he got it, the moment it dawned on him.
“Oh, hang on.” He ripped back the sheets and scrabbled for his own clothes. “This is insane.”
Ella, her chest a cold block of ice, watched him step commando-style into his jeans and she prayed his dick would get stuck in the vicious teeth of his fly. Maybe then he’d know a bit of the pain that was tearing into her flesh.
Unfortunately, he pulled it up without incident.
“You think I fucked Rachel?” he hissed as he yanked his shirt down and shoved his hands on his hips.
Even hearing him say the words was like an icepick to her heart. Her brain busily conjured images that made her want to retch. She needed a shower. A scrubbing brush.
She needed hospital-grade disinfectant.
“Damn right I do, Jake.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t .”
Right. As if she’d believe anything he said right now. “Sure you didn’t.”
He stalked toward her. “You seriously think that of me? After everything these last weeks? This is bullshit, Ella.”
A noise came from the back of her throat she didn’t recognize. Hell, it defied description. It was guttural and ugly, a cross between a roar and a mortally wounded whimper, ripping at her vocal cords.
“You have to have been in her room ,” she said, her voice thick with emotion , “to know about the sunlight on the vases.”
And men only went into Rachel’s room for one reason.
The vases were one of the happier memories from Ella’s childhood. From when she was really little and used to snuggle in her mom’s bed every morning, watching and waiting for the sun to get high enough to strike the vases. The mystical garnet hue usually lasted a couple of hours and often she and Rachel would lay there until the last of it had disappeared.
The sense of magic and wonder created in those moments had always stayed with Ella. And the fact that her mom had apparently done the same thing with her mother had imbued the spectacle with family tradition.
Now that was all gone.
Ella gave Jake’s chest an angry shove which only managed to rock him back on his heels a little. “What do you think?” she asked, tears pricking her eyes as she shoved again, harder this time but still making no dent to the solid wall of his chest. “Was I as good as her?”
He reared back as if she’d struck him across the face and for a moment he was speechless. Then he opened his mouth as if he was going to say something.
But what?
Was he going to try and justify how he’d gotten into the pants of not one but two Lucas women? Ella sure as shit didn’t want to hear that and she was relieved when his jaw clicked shut.
“You know what, Ella? If you really believe that of me, I don’t think there’s much else to say.” He raked her with a contemptuous gaze before he turned away to gather the rest of his belongings.
Ella watched him with a strange sense of dislocation, hugging herself hard to stop the shakes, sniffling loudly as she blinked back the tears. How could she want him gone but be bereft at the thought of him leaving?
A whimper rose in her throat and she swallowed it down, biting her lip to stop herself from blurting out that it didn’t matter what happened over twenty years ago.
Because it really shouldn’t. But it did .
Most of the guys Ella had gone to school with had paid Rachel for sex. It had practically been a Trently rite of passage – why should Jake have been any different? He’d been a testosterone-driven, screw-anyone-who-said-yes teenager. And the entire town knew that Rachel was Trently’s favorite yes-woman.
Just because she’d felt some feeble connection with him back then didn’t mean he had. Just because the kiss he’d given her that night at homecoming had meant something to her, didn’t mean it had meant anything to him.
Maybe that’s what was making her so mad?
Could the lips that had touched hers so gently, so tentatively at homecoming, really have touched Rachel’s first? Had she tutored him in how women liked to be kissed? Where they liked to be touched? All their secret places? Did she have her mother to thank for Jake’s prowess as a lover?
Ella shuddered just thinking about it.
She must have looked a fright when he faced her again because the hard mask of his face softened and he took a step toward her. “ Ella .”
The thought of him touching her right now was too much to bear and Ella took a step back. “Just leave the money on the table on your way out, Jake.”
His eyes widened for a second then the mask was back. He was gone five seconds later, the door slamming with such finality on his way out.
Jake watched the Demons do drills on Wednesday afternoon. He’d been working them hard all week, having brought them down from the high of their win with brutal honesty on Monday morning. He’d hammered into them that the comp would only get harder and he and Pete had made the team watch the video from the game several times, pointing out each player’s weaknesses and strengths and replaying their errors ad nauseam.
Then they’d spent all week running endless drills targeting specific areas.
The fact that he’d been pissed since storming out of Ella’s house on Sunday had certainly kept the fire burning in his gut and he’d replayed that conversation over and over. Replayed that moment she’d looked at him and everything had gone from warm and loose to cold and tight.
She’d seriously thought he’d slept with her mother.
The solution had been an easy fix, of course. Just sit her down and make her see. Explain how he knew about the vases. Because he had wanted to – despite her horrible accusations. He could see how she could have leaped to that conclusion and he’d wanted to comfort her with the truth.
She’d looked so disheveled and almost fragile, standing there in his jersey, hugging herself so tight. But her words hadn’t been fragile. They’d bludgeoned . Particularly her parting shot and anger and pride had kept his mouth firmly shut.
Sure, Jake had been subjected to people’s insults his entire career. He’d expected it on the field. He’d expected it from the press and the paparazzi and the social media trolls. He hadn’t expected it from her .
Not after that incredible night.
In one sentence she’d sullied everything that had happened between them and he’d been so damn furious with her, getting the hell out had been his only option. And, five days later, the bitter lump of injustice lodged high and hard in his throat was showing no signs of dissolving.
So… they’d fucked like they were made for each other. Sex he could get – with uncomplicated women. Women who wanted to say they’d screwed the famed Founders’ tight end and didn’t give a shit about the one-horse town he’d grown up in nor who he’d bedded – or had not – while he lived there.
When he’d calmed down enough, he’d go set her straight. But that wasn’t today. The way he was feeling right now, it wouldn’t be tomorrow either. And besides, he was the coach and she was the principal. It was a line they should never have crossed anyway. Professional boundaries and all that crap.
Oh, and he was backward , right?
Why did he even care what a woman who considered him a backward step thought?
He tracked Cameron around the field for a bit as he worked on his passing. The boy had loads of stamina, but he was a ball hogger, relying on his bulk to bust through the opposition’s front line instead of using his brains and his team members.
He watched some of the other guys working with Pete on their tackling. They needed some training machines. Deluca High had no equipment and no budget to buy any. The Demons’ training sessions seemed archaic compared to the high-tech sessions during his professional career.
It put them at a disadvantage and, God knew, they were already handicapped enough.
“Pass the goddamned ball, Cameron,” he shouted from the sidelines.
He made a mental note to start getting some basic stuff. What the hell else was he going to do with all his money? The teams they were up against had equipment, top-class equipment. Not that he really thought they’d make it to the playoffs. But if they won enough games they might be invited to play Chiswick Academy and they sure as shit had every bit of whizz bang training tech on the market.
If Ella wanted him to save her school, then he needed the right tools.
“Jake!”
Jake turned to find Miranda bounding along the sideline with all her usual indefatigable vigor. Honestly, if he hadn’t seen her feet as she’d emerged into the world fifteen years ago, he’d swear she’d been born with springs instead.
She enveloped him in her trademark enthusiastic hug as Trish brought up the rear. “Miranda. Stop it. You know you’re not supposed to hug Jake at school.”
Jake grinned at Trish, an older version of her daughter, her step still springy despite the march of time. He kissed her on the cheek and they chatted briefly about the debut game before Miranda spat out what it was that had her shifting from foot to foot like a Cocker Spaniel on speed.
“I want to form a cheer squad.”
Jake glanced sharply at Trish. The years fell away between them and he could see her in her little bitty skirt, her ponytail bouncing as she did the splits in mid-air, the team logo emblazoned across chest. “You okay with this?”
“Course she is,” Miranda jumped in. “Mom even said she’d coach us.”
Trish shrugged. “I’ve tried to talk her out of it.”
Jake looked at Miranda again, not comfortable with the idea of her flaunting her ass and legs and shaking her chest in front of a bunch of horny teenage boys. As a professional, he understood cheerleaders were part of the showbiz of the game.
The razzmatazz .
But cheerleading wasn’t all pom-poms and routines. He and Trish knew that better than anyone.
He’d hate to see history repeating itself. Hate to see Miranda crushed like her mother had been. But he didn’t have the heart to tell her no.
He’d never been able to say no to her.
Then a sudden thought had him smiling – Ella could do his dirty work for him. “Okay. But you gotta get Ella’s permission first.”
Miranda squealed and grabbed him around the neck. “Oh thank you, Jake. Thank you, thank you.”
Jake chuckled as he untangled himself. “Yeah, well, don’t count your chickens.”
“Could you come with me, Jake? Ms. Lucas has been a real grouch all week and she likes you.”
Liked him? Liked to castrate him, maybe. “Grouchy, huh?”
“Cameron thinks she might be, you know…” Miranda lowered her voice. “Going through the change.”
Trish rolled her eyes and Jake threw back his head as a huge belly laugh escaped. How old did they think Ella was, exactly? “Best not mention that to her.”
“So you’ll help me? Tomorrow before training?”
It was on the tip of Jake’s tongue to tell her no. He doubted whether his presence would do much for her cause.
But wasn’t that what he wanted?
“Okay. Sure.”
“Yes.” Miranda squealed again. “You’re the best, Jake.” And she ran back to a group of girls who huddled together and they all started squealing together.
“Oh God,” he said to Trish. “I’ve created a monster.”
Ella, already well and truly shitty with the world, was tearing up another letter that had arrived in an ominous yellow envelope when the knock came.
“Come in.”
She smiled as Miranda opened the door and entered. Jake followed her in and the smile died. She hadn’t spoken with him since Sunday and had, frankly, been dreading the prospect.
She’d lived that dreadful sinking moment when she’d realized Jake had been in Rachel’s room over and over and it didn’t matter how hot he looked right now in his tight, gray T-shirt, screwing her mother was unforgiveable.
Maybe it wasn’t fair of her to hold Jake to a higher standard than other guys from Trently – but she did.
Miranda shifted nervously in front of her and Ella dragged her mind off the mess with Jake. The young woman gave her a shy smile and Ella wondered where peppy Miranda had gone.
“Can I help you with something, Miranda?” She didn’t bother to acknowledge Jake, which was petty but, too bad.
“I asked Jake yesterday if we could form a cheer squad and he said you had to give your permission first. So… that’s why I’m here.”
Ella frowned. Her gaze cut to Jake. What the hell was he playing at? He knew how she felt about cheerleaders. “I see.” Ella steepled her fingers, buying some time.
“My mom said she’d coach us,” Miranda added into the growing silence. “We can practice in the afternoons on the field while the guys are practicing.”
“Your… mother?”
Miranda nodded her head enthusiastically. “She was a professional cheerleader. That’s where she met Jake.”
Ah. So that was their origin story. The thought that he and Trish had been lovers reared its ugly head again, adding to her grievance with him. Were there any women on this planet – and their mothers – who hadn’t ended up between his sheets?
Studying Miranda for a moment, Ella chose her words carefully. She’d always applauded initiative but this was a hot-button subject for her.
“I have to be honest with you, Miranda. I’m really not in favor of this.”
“Oh but, Miss?—”
Ella held up her hand. “Have you heard of Emmeline Pankhurst?”
“Of course.” Miranda looked affronted. “She was a British suffragette. Although I prefer Ida B Wilmott or Lucrecia Mott.”
“Excellent.” Ella nodded, pleased to see there were still young women interested in that part of history. “So let me ask you, how do you think any of them would feel to see young women prancing around in itty-bitty costumes providing entertainment for males at sporting events?”
“If you don’t mind me being frank, Miss Lucas, I think that’s a rather outdated opinion.”
In her peripheral vision, Ella saw Jake hide a smile with a jaw rub. Miranda paused as if she was expecting to be chastised but Ella just waved her on. She definitely wanted to hear what an articulate young woman who knew her suffragettes had to say.
“Cheerleaders are classed as professional athletes these days and are now even eligible for the Olympics. And surely women’s suffrage was born out of the idea that women can be and do whatever they want?”
Ella blinked at Miranda’s cogent argument. “And what about the message cheerleading sends to younger, less informed girls? That women are just there to prop up male egos while they chase a ball around a field.”
“No.” Miranda shook her head. “I don’t think it’s about that and we shouldn’t make it about that. This is about what we can do to support Deluca High.”
Ella opened her mouth to speak but Miranda didn’t break for comment. She plowed right on.
“Look at the Cats last weekend. Their cheer squad was ahh -mazing. And right away they had a mental advantage over us because they had all the bells and whistles and we didn’t. With every chant, they were saying our team’s better than yours because we have all the luxuries, like a cheer squad. This isn’t about girls pandering to boys. It’s about school spirit. About us all pulling together and doing our bit to save the school.”
Ella fell silent at the impassioned plea. She caught Jake’s eye. He shook his head and mouthed, “ No .”
Wait… Jake didn’t want it either? She’d have thought the tight-end jock would be all for it. But he shook his head once more, bugging his eyes as he mouthed, “ No, ” again.
Okay, well… that was curious. She opened her mouth to say something but Jake got in first.
“I think Miss Lucas has made herself clear, Miranda,” he said. “I don’t think we should take up any more of her time.”
“But…” Miranda protested as Jake grabbed her elbow.
Ella narrowed her eyes. “Wait right there!”
What the hell was his problem? Whatever it was, she was sufficiently angry with him that she was happy to sacrifice some principles just to yank his chain in any way she could. “I think Miranda’s made some very salient points.”
“Ella.”
She arched an eyebrow at his clearly irritated voice. “We don’t want to come across as the poor cousins, do we?”
“What about Emmeline ?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“I’m sure Emmeline would have approved of Miranda’s daring to stand up for something she believes in.”
Several seconds of mutual eye… whatever the opposite of eye fucking was – eye hating? – elapsed before Ella dragged her gaze from Jake to smile at Miranda. “I’ll call and talk to your mother this afternoon.”
Miranda quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”
Ella gave a brief nod. “That’s a yes.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God!” Miranda turned to an immobile Jake and hugged him. She turned back to Ella and beamed. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Ella smiled but held up her hand to curb Miranda’s enthusiasm. “There are conditions.”
“Name them.”
“I don’t want to walk around the school grounds and feel like I’m on the set of Mean Girls . No beauty pageants, no popularity contests – all comers regardless of size, sex and nationality are welcome to be in if they want.”
Miranda nodded eagerly. “Diversity. Check.”
“The uniforms are to be modest . No tiny skirts, no bare skin.”
Miranda nodded again. “Functional. Check.”
“Chants are about school spirit, okay? No ego-stroking.”
“Deluca chants only. Check.”
Ella laughed. Miranda was brimming with enthusiasm which was infectious. “Alright, then. Keep me up to date.”
“I will,” she promised. “I will.” Then she bounded out of the office.
Which left Jake and Ella scowling at each other across her desk. “All you had to do was say no.”
“This felt better,” she snapped.
More eye hating followed as Jake glowered at her. For a moment she thought he was going to say something but then he turned on his heel and stalked for the door. He made it halfway before he stopped, clenched his fists, turned and strode back.
“Listen up,” he growled as he planted his hands on her desk. “I’m only going to say this once. I. Did. Not. Sleep. With. Rachel .” Pushing off the desk, he shoved a hand through his hair. “My father was one of her clients. Sometimes he was too drunk to get home and Rachel would ring the bar and I would go and pick him up. That’s how I knew about the damn vases.”
Ella stared at him, his fervent denial and explanation seeping into the cracks of her famous reserve that had been papered over one too many times. He looked part pissed off, part exasperated, and tired as hell.
But, she believed him.
The weight Ella had been carrying on her chest suddenly lifted but it didn’t make her feel any better. Because now she felt like a fool and a shrew going off half-cocked like that. Kicking him out of their still-warm bed.
And saying some pretty terrible stuff in the process.
“Why didn’t you say something?” she demanded.
“I did ,” he retorted.
As he prowled to the window, Ella wanted to refute his statement but it was the truth. He had denied it and she’d pushed it aside because her brain had gone into frantic damage control, protecting her from images and scenarios she hadn’t wanted to contemplate.
“Not hard enough,” she said to his back. Why hadn’t he tried harder? “Why didn’t you tell me it was your father?”
“Because…” Jake stared out the window, his back to her. “Maybe I’m as ashamed by my father and the things he did as you are your mother? Maybe I didn’t want to admit to the woman I’d spent the night with that my loser dad used to pay her mom for sex, especially after Roger fucking Hillman’s insults. And maybe” – he turned then, his eyes bleak as they settled on her – “after all our history, I thought you knew me better than that?”
The barb struck her in the center of the chest. He was right. She should have. They had a complicated relationship that had sprung from a shared history neither had ever really talked about but she did know him.
The way only another misfit from Trently could.
Ella inspected her hands, embarrassed and ashamed by her hasty condemnation. Stupid, stupid, stupid . “I’m sorry.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I’m really sorry.”
He shook his head, sighing as he leaned his ass against the windowsill. “It doesn’t matter. It was probably for the best, right? We’re trying to achieve something here and if this… incident has taught us anything it’s that complicating the situation with” – he pointed back and forth between the two of them – “a thing between us, probably isn’t very smart.”
Swallowing hard, Ella nodded. He was right. He was absolutely right. The last few days had been full of angst and stupid amounts of avoidance. They needed all their drive and energy to pull this thing off.
Not petty distractions.
“We should keep this strictly professional,” he continued. “You’re the principal. I’m the coach. Respect the line between us, concentrate on the team, the kids.”
His words rang true. The last thing the Demons needed was any spillover between Mom and Dad fighting.
“Okay.” Ella stood, determined to be as matter of fact as Jake. It was the only sensible way forward and she’d always aced sensible. “I agree.” She stuck out her hand. “Shake on it?”
Regarding her for a brief moment that made her insides swoop, he pushed off the windowsill, crossed to the other side of her desk and slid his hand into hers.
“Principal Lucas,” he murmured, his gaze hot on hers.
“Coach,” she said, his touch far cooler than his gaze but burning a swathe of heat up her arm anyway.
She gave two very firm, very business-like pumps to quell the sudden urge to tear his clothes off and do him on her desk.
Because, despite everything – the competition, the school and their newly minted professional boundaries – she really, really wanted to do him on her desk.