Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
MALAKI
“Where’s your fiancée tonight?”
I’m lacing up for the game when Lars’s smug grin comes into view. I’m someone who is hard to rile up, but his tone makes my blood run hot. “She’s at home…in my bed.” Hopefully. “Where’s your mom tonight?”
Someone sniggers from a few lockers down, and I don’t have to look to know it’s Kane.
“A mama joke? Grow up,” Lars sneers.
I wink. “Can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen.”
Rhodes busies himself with lacing his skates and asks, “How long have you and Reese been together? I’m surprised we haven’t heard you spouting at the mouth about her if you’re serious enough to get engaged.”
I glance away as guilt hits me. I hate lying. “A while, but she wanted to keep things under wraps since I’m in the media.”
“What’s a while?” Lars asks in that annoying accent of his.
There’s a twitch in his eye, which tells me he’s skeptical. When I don’t immediately answer, he squints.
If I'm not careful, he’ll catch me in a lie.
When I don’t answer, he questions me again. “A while, as in…she had your bub?”
“What the fuck is a bub?” someone asks from a few lockers over.
Lars answers, “Ah, sorry. The term bub is used for baby in Australia.”
I grip my jersey tightly before pulling it over my head.
Through my rising blood pressure, I hear someone say, “A baby? His fiancée has a baby?”
“Well?” Lars’s face comes back into view.
I ignore my unusual possessiveness. Charleigh isn’t something I can lie about, so I tell the truth. “She’s not mine.”
There’s a collective ooooh that moves through the locker room like a tidal wave, followed by the term, “Stepdaddy Malaki”. I have to act like it doesn’t irritate me, because any other day, it wouldn’t.
“Hey, baby or not. She’s fine as hell. I’d become a stepdaddy too.”
I jerk upright and search to see who said that.
“Hey.” Rhodes steps forward, his shoulders bundling with anger. “Show some fucking respect.”
“Yeah.” I try to brush off my anger with a joke, per usual. “Rhodes is the real dad of the bunch. Listen to him.”
The chatter is broken up right away but not without a few chuckles here and there. Emory catches my eye across the locker room and flicks his chin to Rhodes. I nod, silently giving him the go-ahead to make Rhodes privy to my situation.
That’s where I draw the line, though. I don’t want anyone else to know about Reese’s and my fake engagement.
I may be flippant and only appear serious when I’m racing my opponent on the ice, but I understand the gravity of the situation I’m in. Being fake engaged is all fun and games until I remind myself that Reese is in a shitty situation with a man who has a vengeance for control.
Kane elbows me on the way out of the locker room, and I slow my pace to walk with him. He waits for some rookies to pass before leaning in, “I assume you’re taking Reese to the charity function, right?”
My steps falter.
He rolls his eyes before pulling on his helmet. “If you want people to believe your engagement, you should probably take your fiancée as your date.”
My fingers tighten as I grip my own helmet, but I make no move to put it on. How the hell does he know the truth?
He answers my silent question. “We lived together. I’m not a fucking idiot. You’ve either swept her off her feet in a couple of weeks—which is unlikely—or it’s a fabricated engagement.” He shrugs. “Plus, Daisy mentioned something being off too. She’s just waiting for Reese to fill her in.”
Great.
He calls over his shoulder as he continues toward the ice. “Text Reese and tell her to pick one of the dresses that I had her get for Daisy. She’s on her way over there now to inform Daisy that she’s going as my date.”
I rush toward my locker. Placing my helmet on the bench, I dig for my phone.
Reese’s name is already on the screen with a text message.
Reese
I found a bag of Blue Devils merch on the bed. I assume this is from you, considering there’s a jersey inside that says, Future Mrs. Young on the back…
I grin.
Me
You’re welcome Also, I need you to pick one of those dresses for the charity function you got for Daisy for yourself. You’re coming with me.
My heart beats fast, and I haven’t even climbed on the ice. I could blame it on game-day jitters, but I haven’t been nervous for a game in years. Hockey is my calm, and apparently, Reese is my chaos.
When Reese doesn’t text me back right away, I send another, because I have a feeling she’s trying to come up with some excuse.
Me
It’s time I showed you off…
Reese
Showed me off? Like I’m cattle?
No, Dimples. Not like cattle.
Me
It’s time I showed you off as mine. So pick a dress, and I’ll see you tomorrow.
Oh, by the way, Kane and Daisy are onto us, so you might want to tell her something.
Night, Mrs. Young
I toss my phone into my locker and head for the ice, and what do you know? I’m no longer nervous.
The house is spotless when I get home. The scent of something sweet fills the air, and I have to admit, I’m not necessarily upset that Reese is taking this whole “work for me” thing seriously.
Coming home after an away game to someone other than Kane and the house is clean? Who would argue with that?
The simple contract she made–not me–listed the tasks she’d take care of while we continued our fake engagement, and an entire monthly menu with lasagna on it twice.
I decided to let her have her way. She’s persistent when it comes to supporting herself and Charleigh financially, and I can’t blame her for that.
I wonder if she’ll notice me paying her more than agreed upon?
After placing my bag near the door, I walk down the hall in search of Reese. I stop in place when her conversation with Zoe carries throughout the house.
“Just act like you’re not here. I’ll tell him that I have no one to watch Charleigh,” Reese rambles to Zoe, both completely unaware that I’m mere feet away, listening to their conversation.
“You are insane,” Zoe states. “I’m not going to go hide in my room from your pretend fiancé because you’re afraid to go on a date.”
“It isn’t a date, and I’m not afraid!” Reese argues. “And keep your voice down. I don’t want you to wake Charleigh.”
Zoe’s sigh is still loud enough for me to hear around the corner. “Then why are you trying to get out of going? Do you really think Benedict is going to believe you two are engaged if Malaki is showing up to events without you? Especially if they require a plus-one?”
“Benedict just texted me this morning and apologized.”
He did?
“He said he’s going to respect my relationship–”
Zoe cuts off her sister. “Please tell me you didn’t believe that bullshit. He can’t even respect you when you say no, let alone your relationship with another man!”
I cock an eyebrow. What exactly does that mean?
Reese begins to stammer. “I…I…”
“Remember when he refused to believe that Charleigh was his and belittled you for being a whore? He said that you were trying to trap him because he was wealthy! Oh, and do you remember the first time he actually met her?”
“Zoe,” Reese warns.
“He came over and tried to get you to sleep with him even though you weren’t cleared from the doctor yet! Then yelled at you when you refused? Or how about all the times he came to the apartment and didn’t respect the fact that we didn’t want him there?”
My heart pounds, and a thin line of sweat forms along my hairline.
“Don’t even get me started on the time I found him shoving you around. If I didn’t show up and threaten him with that bat…”
Zoe’s voice trails, and I realize it’s because I’ve stepped into their line of sight unintentionally. My sights are set directly on Reese. When she sees me, her lips snap together, and her gaze runs in the opposite direction.
I know a shamed face when I see one, and for some reason, it bothers me that she feels the need to hide. Now, more than ever, I want to have her by my side every chance I get, just to show Benedict that he can’t have her.
It’s a possessive thing to say, even inside my head, but I can’t deny it.
Zoe takes Charleigh, who’s fast asleep, from her mother’s arms and scoots past me. She gives me a look that I can only assume means help her in reference to her sister.
I lean my shoulder against the wall and scan the kitchen. It’s spotless, not a dish in sight. The only thing I see is a baby bottle that’s drying on some weird-looking grass thing. It was one of the only things Reese had brought with her, besides baby bottles and clothes.
“There are some meals in the fridge for you, if you’re hungry,” she says.
“I’m not,” I say.
Awkward silence fills the gap between us, and she eventually breaks. “How much of that did you hear?”
Enough to make me want to bury Benedict.
Instead of showing her all my cards, I play it off. “Not much,” I say, lying right through my teeth.
Her laugh is abrupt, and I can’t help but grin. She places her elbows on the counter and buries her face into her hands. “I’m choosing to believe that over the alternative,” she mumbles.
“What if I told you I heard it all?” I ask.
Reese peeks at me through her fingers. Her brown eyes, soft and pretty, sober. “Did you?”
I push off from the wall and make my way toward the fridge. I open it up, grab the apple juice, and walk over to her. Instead of touching her, I lean my back against the counter and open the cap. “I heard enough,” I admit.
As much as I want to know everything that’s happened when it comes to her ex, I won’t push. I think she’s had enough of that over the last year.
I decide to change the subject instead. “So what dress did you pick?”
Reese pulls her hands away from her face to peer up at me from leaning against the counter. “You’re asking me what dress I chose?” She drops her gaze to the jug of apple juice in my hand.
I hand it to her. “You look like you need a drink.”
One of her dimples catches my eye, but instead of letting me see her smile, she looks at her feet. Her hair comes forward, hiding most of her face from me, and I involuntarily reach forward to push the long waves over her shoulder.
I inch the jug of juice closer.
She laughs, and my mouth curves.
Eventually, she takes it from me and tips her head back to take a drink.
When she’s finished, she runs her tongue along the seam of her lips.
There’s a pull in my groin, like I’m a fucking puppet.
I’m a grown-ass man with a career, investments, a mortgage, and yet…I’m turned on by a pretty woman drinking apple juice?
Jesus.
I take the juice from her, twist the cap on, and shove it back into the fridge. I hold my hand out to her, and she looks at it like it’s a trap.
“Come on, let’s go.” I inch my chin toward the hall leading to the stairs.
She’s about to protest, but I don’t give her the option.
“You know I can’t show up to this event without you,” I say. “I’d be the world’s worst fiancé if I didn’t have you by my side.”
She’s hesitant, eyeing my hand like I’m taking her to the pits of Hell instead of a fancy event.
“Don’t make me do it,” I threaten playfully.
Reese narrows her eyes. “Do what?”
“I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you upstairs right now if I have to.”
The energy shifts around us. Reese pops a hip, crosses her arms, and narrows those pretty eyes. “And then what?” she questions. “Are you going to strip me out of these clothes and force me into a dress?”
I step forward. “Wanna test me?”