Chapter 19
Nineteen
MALAKI
I crack my knuckles, push my fingers back into my glove, and focus.
We have one more drill to go, and then we’re done for the day.
I’ve been distracted, and when questioned, I blamed it on being tired from traveling late last night, but it has nothing to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with that piece of paper Reese handed me this morning.
Boundaries.
My first thought was lame. But after scanning the list, I sort of became…agitated? It wasn’t a list of boundaries that benefited her. Instead, they all benefited me. Like she was trying to protect me from herself.
Her vow to never invade my privacy or cross any lines beyond a business-like relationship is permanently engraved into my brain. Right along with her promise to help contribute to the bills, keep the house as tidy as possible, and she mentioned she’ll never ask nor require any help with Charleigh.
I know that our engagement is a ploy, but how does she expect anyone to believe it if we’re practically strangers? It’ll be obvious, especially to someone who is paying close attention: like Benedict.
Spit flies from my mouth when my body suddenly tumbles through the air. I slip on my back and land with a thud on the hard floor. “What the hell,” I groan and turn over to cradle my stomach.
Ice shavings fling into my face from Kane’s sudden stop. “Dude, pay the fuck attention.”
“I was,” I argue.
“No, you weren’t,” Emory adds from the bench.
He must be done for the day. Goalies have different drills and spend most of practice off doing something else.
I turn with a wince. “I need your help with something,” I grumble through the pain. The wind must've gotten knocked out of me from the fall, because I can’t seem to catch my breath.
Emory reaches down and pulls me up by the collar of my practice jersey. “I’m not giving you mouth to mouth.”
I try to chuckle, but I come up short.
One of our trainers comes over wearing a grave look. “Tell me you’re not injured.”
Coach growls, “He better not be.”
“He’s fine.” Emory sits back on the bench. “Just got the wind knocked out of him.”
I nod and hold my hand up. My teammates head for the locker room, bypassing me off to the side.
I’m back to normal by the time the ice clears, my breathing less strained and my lungs loose.
I glance at my surroundings, making sure no one is too close to eavesdrop–though I think I may be the only one on the team that really cares to do that.
I lean my elbows on the edge of the wall.
“How did it work with you and Scottie? When you two were fake married?” I ask.
Emory’s jaw flickers. “We weren’t fake married.” It’s apparent by his tone that he’s annoyed I’m even bringing this up.
Sure, they’re still married, and it’s nothing less than real. But at first, it was out of total convenience. I think he may have even hated her at first.
I quickly try to rectify his rising irritation. “Let me rephrase. How did it work with you and Scottie when you were still in the early stages of your blossoming love story?”
If looks could kill.
“Why?” Emory’s glare remains, but I’ve definitely garnered his attention.
Slipping further off to the side, I move and sit on the bench beside him to start removing my blades.
“I’m fake engaged.”
Emory snickers. “You’re fucked.”
My leg starts to bounce up and down with sudden jitters. “Thank you for your support.”
“Wait, you’re being serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
Emory’s head tips backward, and he sighs loudly. “Why on earth would you enter a fake engagement? You know my reasoning for marrying Scottie and how I paid her because she needed the money, so what’s yours? Boredom? Jealous that all your friends are in relationships?”
“Maybe.” I shrug.
Emory stands, and my leg suddenly stills.
“Break it off before it blows up in your face,” he says.
“It’s complicated,” I blurt, hoping he’ll sit back down and give me some real advice. “I offered to help her in a shitty situation, and now we’re kind of stuck.”
Stuck isn’t the correct word. I don’t feel stuck, but I didn’t really have a choice after I found out the whole story.
Emory’s lip lifts slightly, just enough for me to question if he’s smiling or not. “Okay, so what do you want to know?”
I huff. “I don’t know. Like, how did you two make it look real?” I bite the inside of my cheek as I think back to Reese’s boundaries. “Did you two practice?”
Emory’s loud laugh echoes around the empty rink. “Practice what exactly?”
“You know…” He knows what I’m referring to, but nonetheless. “Acting like you two were in love.”
Emory looks off in the distance, and his head tilts. “Not intentionally. We were forced to act like we were in love in front of the cameras, and then…it just kind of happened.” He looks at me. “Who are you two trying to fool?”
My leg starts shaking again. “Her ex…?" Charleigh's father?
“Sounds like there’s more to that sentence.”
I wiggle my jaw back and forth.
Fuck. Fine.
“She has a daughter, and he’s trying to take her to court for custody as a way to punish her for not getting back into a relationship with him.”
Emory curses under his breath before standing up. “Like I said…break it off before it blows up in your face.”
“Mmm, sort of sounds like you think I can’t achieve this.”
Emory shakes his head and walks off, leaving me alone with his half-ass advice.
He and Scottie had an agreement. She helped him with his image in exchange for money.
That may work with Reese. I could hire her for a job of some sort and pay her.
It’s either that, or the alternative, which I know she’ll refuse.
I eagerly jog up the porch stairs and listen intently as I walk through the front door. Reese’s faint voice lingers from the kitchen, and I follow it like a kid in a candy store. My plan to ease her financial burdens has me walking down the hall with a pep in my step.
“Oh, Dimples…" I sing. “Say goodbye to Ubering and hello to–”
I stop abruptly, my feet coming to a complete halt.
Reese, barefoot, stands in the middle of the kitchen in nothing but a skimpy bra and jeans. She holds her cell phone up to her ear with one hand while the other holds Charleigh in a diaper–who looks to be as content as ever.
Reese on the other hand, seems mortified.
Her cheeks are bright pink, her eyes as wide as saucers.
She adjusts the phone up to her ear and shuts her eyes.
“I’m not video-chatting with you, Benedict.
If you want to talk about something regarding visitations, then I’m open to talk.
But your reasoning for video-chatting has nothing to do with where Charleigh is living and everything to do with where I’m living. ”
She winces from whatever he said, and I have a hunch that it’s something her fiancé wouldn’t approve of.
As if we need any more chaos, the back door opens, and Zoe walks in, dangling my keys in her hand. She lands on me first then glances at her sister, coming to a complete stop next. “What the hell did I just walk in on?”
Reese tries her best to keep her composure. Charleigh kicks against her mom when she lays eyes on Zoe. Her squeal is so high-pitched my ears ring, but it’s still cute somehow.
Zoe turns toward me. “Who is she on the phone with?”
I answer by raising my brow because Zoe is no dummy. She grimaces, but before she can act, I step forward.
“I’ve got this,” I say.
For a second, I think Zoe is going to ignore me and still threaten to hit Benedict with that baseball bat she keeps nearby, but she gives me her trust instead. She offers her arms to Charleigh and swoops her onto her hip to take her to the other room.
“Video-chat with him,” I say to Reese.
She shakes her head in a panic, so I wind my hand around her waist and whisper into her other ear, “Trust me.”
I spin her around so her back rests against my chest. Keeping a hold of her, I reach up and move her hair behind her shoulder and do my best to ignore the fact that she’s in nothing but a bra and a tight pair of jeans.
Not caring if Benedict is still talking, I take the phone from her ear and replace his voice with mine. “Did he find out that you don’t live in the apartment anymore?”
Reese’s gulp is deafening. She nods.
I chuckle quietly. “Then let’s show him exactly where you’re living and who you’re living with.”
She glances at me briefly, and I wink. Her warm sigh falls to the arm I have wrapped around her waist, and I make the grave mistake of looking down. Her cleavage catches my eye, the sun-kissed skin begging for my mouth.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
“Wait,” I quickly say.
I let go of her and tug my shirt up and over my head. I grab a hold of the phone, hit the video button while simultaneously pulling my shirt over her head. Her small arms find the sleeves just as Benedict hits accept.
I tug her to my bare chest, and she relaxes against me.
“He lost his privileges to see you in a bra,” I whisper into her ear.
One of her dimples pops out, and pride fills me to the brim.
“It’s about time–” Benedict’s voice cuts mid-sentence. His jaw flickers with annoyance, and I smile at him like a fool.
There isn’t much, other than winning a hockey game, that can make me feel superior, but having Reese pressed against me and her asshole ex scowling through the phone most definitely comes close.
“Hey, bud.” I dip my chin at him. “Reese said you wanted to video-chat?”
Benedict leans back in his computer chair with the skyline of Chicago in the background. I knew he was a businessman by the way he carried himself, and this proves it.
Reese’s hand finds mine around her waist, and I grip her wrist. Her pulse slams beneath her skin, and I’m not sure if it’s because we’re on the phone with Benedict or because she’s pressed against me.
“Yeah.” Benedict snaps his gaze to Reese while talking to me. “I didn’t know you were there.”
I flick an eyebrow. “Well, we do live together…”
Reese shifts to peer back at me, and my words fade. Our faces are so close that Benedict is likely to have an aneurysm.
“She is my fiancée after all,” I remind him, forcing myself to look at him. “We’re together most of the time.”
Benedict scowls. “Yes, so I’ve heard. Odd that I haven’t seen any photos circling with the two of you. There seems to be plenty of you, Young. But Reese? None.”
He’s beginning to dig.
Noted.
“Well, we wanted to keep our relationship private. Reese has some issues with people digging into her personal life. You know?”
Benedict’s eye twitches, and I smile on the inside.
Silence passes between us, and although he’s trying to be discreet, I watch him survey the house.
Unfortunately for him, my arms are around Reese, and we take up so much of the frame that he can’t see much.
I find it strange that he hasn’t asked to see his daughter, but I guess that just proves that he really did just want to video-chat to snoop out her new place.
He’s trying to catch Reese in a lie, but I’ll go to the grave with this secret if that’s what it takes. I don’t like him, or the way her entire body tenses when he speaks to her.
“Well…” I'm hoping to make him feel like an idiot with our abrupt exit. “We’re a little busy, so we’re going to go.”
“Busy…” The word drags out of his mouth as he lazily scans Reese. “What are you wearing?”
I answer for her. “My shirt. It looks better on her, huh?”
Benedict says nothing.
I grin, and then he does too.
His gaze shifts back to her. “I can’t help but notice that you’re still not wearing a ring…”
Come on, Reese.
She finally speaks. “It’s being sized.”
He chuckles darkly. “No, it isn’t. I’ve called every jeweler in the city, and not a single one of them has an active order with your name or your fiancé’s.”
Tension springs to my shoulders. “That’s borderline stalker-like.”
Benedict ignores my insult, but I refuse to let him come out on top.
“But if you must know,” I start. “the order is closed because her ring has been picked up.”
“Then why isn’t it on her finger?” His jabs are starting to aggravate me.
Reese’s skin is warm to the touch, and it only gets hotter the longer we talk to him.
“Because…” I keep my words as smooth as possible. “We got distracted…if you know what I mean.”
A touch of red creeps up his neck, just above that crisp white collar of his. I reach for the phone with a shit-eating grin on my face. “Talk to you later, bud.”
As soon as I hit end, Reese exhales so hard I have to hold her hips steady so she doesn’t collapse. Her hands cover her face, her words muffled. “He definitely doesn’t believe that we’re engaged.”
Zoe’s scoff comes from behind us. “Ya think? You two need to get your story straight, and put that ring on!”
We both turn to look at her holding Charleigh, who, per usual, is smiling. “Ba, ba, ba, baa.”
Zoe shrugs sheepishly. “Even she agrees.”