Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
MALAKI
As soon as the plane touches down, I turn my phone back on. My pulse thrums, eager to see a text from Reese. Surely she’s awake by now.
Last night will live in my head for the rest of my life. Hearing her get off over the phone was better than anything I could've imagined, and I have a pretty wild imagination.
Once my phone is back in action, I frantically search the screen for an incoming text, but instead, I see a doorbell notification.
I get a notification every time someone leaves or enters the house.
When I replay the video, I watch a man stand on the front porch with something in his hand.
The only comforting thing is that it isn’t Benedict, but I wouldn’t put it past him to send someone else to torment Reese, because he’s nothing but a coward in my eyes.
I wait until I’m in my car, away from my teammates, who are all just as eager to get home, to open the video again.
He says her name.
My spidey senses tingle.
“We’re not interested,” she says to him kindly.
He repeats her name, and I zoom in on whatever he’s holding.
She corrects him with skepticism. “It’s Ms. Moreno.”
I think she means It’s Future Mrs. Young, but I digress.
He shoves something into her chest, and my blood pressure rises. “You’ve been served.”
I grip the steering wheel. “Fuck.”
I quickly click my phone off and throw my car in drive.
My airy mood that carried on from our late-night phone call vanishes before I’m out of the parking lot. I have six days before we’re on the road to play the Coyotes to help Reese figure out whatever it is that Benedict just pulled.
I hope it’s enough time.
Better yet, I hope she’s willing to let me in instead of trying to figure it out on her own.
I waste no time climbing the porch steps and walking into the house. I drop my bag and kick the door shut with my foot. “Reese?”
Zoe appears at the end of the hall from the kitchen. The closer I get, the more my shoulders tighten. Charleigh is on her hip and smiles at me immediately.
I grin. “Hey, Charleigh-girl.”
Zoe tucks her lip beneath her teeth, just like her older sister does.
We make eye contact, but she says nothing.
“Where is she?” I ask.
Better yet, where is Benedict? I’d really enjoy finding him first.
“How do you–”
“Doorbell,” I say.
She inches her chin toward the stairs.
Zoe’s spunk is gone, which is unsettling to say the least. I follow her line of sight and see a manila folder on the bar top with a few scattered papers on top.
I quickly scan them, seeing the word mediation repeated several times.
“Mediation?” I repeat. “What does that mean?”
“It’s where Benedict will probably spin the truth and paint Reese out to be a terrible mom in front of a third party, like a mediator, to try to force her hand into whatever he wants so they don’t have to have a custody battle.”
My eye twitches.
I know exactly what he wants, and it isn’t Charleigh.
“And if she doesn’t give in?” I ask.
Zoe sighs. “Then he’ll probably drag her in front of a judge.”
As if there’s an invisible string tying me to Reese, I turn on my heel and head right for her. I begin climbing the stairs, only to stop when Zoe calls my name. I lean over the banister, my hand gripping the railing.
“She’s freaking out.”
I know she is.
“And she’s going to shut you out.”
I squeeze the banister tightly, my veins filling with hot blood. A desperation comes over me as I make my way up the stairs. I head for Charleigh’s room. I don’t know how I know she’s in there, but as soon as I push on the door, opening the gap a little more, I see her.
She has her long hair piled in a high bun on top of her head, wearing a large sweater that swallows all of her curves and a pair of black leggings. Her bare feet slap against the hardwood floor as she paces back and forth, her thumb nail being gnawed off from her nerves.
I rest my shoulder against the doorjamb and cross my arms. My heart beats a million miles a minute as I try to come up with not only a plan to convince Reese that she doesn’t have to face Benedict alone, but also a plan on how to give Benedict a taste of his own medicine so he’ll stop harassing her.
Reese may be my fake fiancée and our engagement a ruse, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to protect her and Charleigh.
I’ll marry her right now if that’s what needs to be done.
I’ll adopt Charleigh too.
I’d be an awesome stepdad.
Bro, chill.
“Reese.”
Her gasp cuts through the empty room. She spins, and our eyes clash.
“Malaki.” The hand she has up to her mouth drops. “I didn’t realize you were home.”
I narrow my gaze. I already know where this is going. “Everything okay?”
“Hmm?” Her voice is high-pitched. “Yes, everything is… great.” She smiles, and although it takes my breath away, I can see right through it. “How was the flight?”
I push off from the doorjamb and shove my hands into my pockets. “It was okay. How was your morning?”
Don’t do it.
Don’t hide from me.
Reese brushes a tendril away from her face and glances at Charleigh’s crib–the same one I bought on a whim because I was unsatisfied with what she was in before. Her neck moves with a slow swallow, her lower lip slipping beneath her teeth.
“Dimples.”
I take a step toward her, but she doesn’t look at me.
I’ve never felt a pull as strong as this. That invisible string tugs me closer, and as if the room is closing in on us, I end up right in front of her.
“You should really let me do my job,” I say.
She turns, her eyes glassy. “Play hockey?”
I shake my head. “It’s my job as your fiancé to give you a shoulder to lean on...”
“You’re my fake–”
I grab her mid-sentence and pull her into my chest. I gently grip the side of her face, cradling her close. She freezes for a second, her shoulders tense, and I press my mouth to the top of her head, placing a kiss there. A shaky exhale leaves her, and something wet rolls over my knuckles.
“I’ll marry you right now if that’s what it’ll take for you to stop saying that,” I murmur against her hair.
She sniffles and shakes her head against my chest. “You’re crazy.”
I am. For her. For Charleigh.
I don’t know when it happened, but I’m done for.
Moving her away from my chest, I grip both sides of her face with my hands and peer down into her watery eyes.
It cuts me to see her like this.
Pink splotches dot her cheeks, the warm brown color of her eyes filled with fear.
It does far more than increase my need to win this little game that Benedict is playing with her.
“We’re going to figure this out together, okay?”
She tries to shake her head but doesn’t get very far with my hands gripping her cheeks.
A shaky breath leaves her. “I think I’ve involved you enough. You have the playoffs to worry about—you know…your actual job, not the one where you pretend to be my fiancé.”
I don’t care.
Wait, I don’t?
Instead of cracking open my chest and letting the truth spill out to scare her, like it just did to me, I lift a shoulder. “I can multitask, Dimples.”
Her mouth twitches.
“I have the day off,” I say. “Let me make you, Char, and Zoe—if she’s staying in—dinner, and then we’ll learn all there is to know about mediations and how to prepare. Yeah?”
She sniffles. “I already prepped dinner for you. That’s my job, remember?”
Of course she did.
“Save it,” I say. “I’m making dinner tonight.”
Reese stares at me incredulously, a tiny line forming in between her eyebrows. “You can cook?”
“I cook and clean. The only reason I have you doing both is because I know you won’t let me pay you otherwise.”
Her lips flatten, but I know there’s no use in arguing about it.
“I have a lot of skills…” I add. “Hidden skills.” I wiggle my eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood.
A blush spreads over her cheeks, replacing the pink splotches from her tears. I interlace our fingers and guide us toward the door. “I’ll show you those skills too,” I whisper into her ear. “But later.”
She huffs out a laugh and smacks me on the arm with her other hand, except I catch it midair. I tug her in close and wind my arm around her lower back to keep her steady. “You think I'm kidding, Dimples?”
I drop my gaze to her mouth, her lips begging to smile.
“I hope not,” she whispers.
Green light.
I press a quick kiss to her mouth, catching a lost breath on the edge of her lips. When we pull apart, I force a swallow down my throat and keep her hand in mine as we make our way back downstairs.
When we get closer to the kitchen, I hear Zoe talking to Charleigh.
“No…say damnit,” she says.
My brows furrow, and I glance to Reese.
She shakes her head. “Don’t ask.”