Chapter 13 Uninvited
Uninvited
Aleks
“You’re quiet.” Moretti closes his locker. “What’s up?”
Marshall starts snickering, “He’s exhausted from his post-game romp at the Pad.”
Moretti looks me up and down, “I thought there was a no more women coming into the pad rule?”
“Won’t happen again.”
Faulker grumbles, “Good, because you throwing open doors yelling, is she in here, waking me up an hour before I needed to be up, has put me in a foul mood.”
“I mean,” Marshall shrugs, “same.”
She left before I woke, which pissed me off so bad that I forgot we’d ‘shared’ locations, before I lost my shit and did just that. She was at Paul’s old place. I knew this because Paul ‘shares’ his locations with me too.
Is it wrong that half the people I can see on Find My Friends don’t know I can find them? Some may say so…
Marshall breaks the silence, “So what New York Bears fam holi-date are we getting in on today?”
I look at Moretti, who is still giving me a less-than-warm feeling, and then he looks at Marshall. “I’m not sure, but I’ll hit up the group chat.”
He turns and heads out of the locker room. I gather my things and let the guys know I’ll meet them outside and rush to catch up with him.
He’s outside when I finally do, and I call after him, “Is there a problem I need to know about?”
He turns and glares at me. “Yes, there is.”
He says nothing else, “Wanna clue me in?”
“I’d like to discuss it with my fiancée first.”
“Oh, hell no,” I shake my head. “You have beef with me, it gets dealt with in real time.”
“Fine,” he sneers.
“Fine,” I huff. “Let’s have it.”
“You being a dick to a woman who is like a sister to Claudia is an issue. And we thought maybe you were beating your chest around her because you liked her. We didn’t wanna get involved.”
I cross my arms because, really, what am I going to say?
“But then you bring a girl back to the Pad leads me to believe you’re just being a dick, and I will not let you treat a woman like that when I’m around, and that’s any woman, Killer.
Sofie? That’s fucking punishable. I’d rather not throw down with one of my best friends, so keeping distance is the only option, and that?
” He sneers again. “That fucks with all of us, but especially the rookie who just wants to be with his family this time of year and needs the distraction.”
“I assure you, it won’t be an issue.”
“I’m pretty sure we had this talk before Rockefeller Center.”
I run my hand through my hair, “It’s been handled.”
He palms his face, “Please tell me you did not bring Sofie back to your place.”
So, I don’t say anything.
“You think fucking her is an apology?” He all but roars.
“I think my promising you I won’t act like an ass should be enough.” This is… unfucking comfortable.
“It wasn’t, though, Kilovac!”
“I didn’t fuck her, and she and I are good.” His eyes narrow into slits. “Heads up, you’re pissing me off now.”
“Oh, really?” He huffs.
“My word should be good enough. I—”
“It was, and then Rockefeller Center happened,” he snaps.
“She started it.” I defend myself and end up sounding like a little bitch.
“You’re unbe—”
“Fine,” I turn and head to Dash’s vehicle, needing space.
“So,” Dash says, glancing at me over his shoulder from the passenger seat where he sits next to his driver. “You get ghosted?”
Marshall snickers from the back seat, immediately ducking his head like he didn’t just make a sound. Rookie move. He knows better than to fully commit to a side until he’s sure who’s winning.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“Oh, come on,” Dash presses. “You were in a mood. That’s always post–something energy.”
“I’m tired.”
“That’s not a denial,” Marshall says, grin wide now that Dash opened the door for him.
I glare back at him, and he grins harder. Kid’s clearly not reading the mood.
Faulker, sitting beside me, says nothing, which is arguably worse.
I catch his reflection in the window. He’s leaning back, arms crossed, jaw relaxed, wearing the most irritatingly smug expression I’ve ever seen on a man who hasn’t said a single word.
He knows, or at least he suspects. And the fact that he’s not saying anything about it tells me exactly how much he knows.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say.
“Like what?” Dash looks back, thinking I called him out.
I didn’t.
“Like Faulker knows something,” Marshall adds, pointing between Faulker and me.
Faulker finally turns his head, slow and deliberate, looks at me, then looks out the window again, smug as hell. “I don’t know anything. But I do enjoy patterns.”
“Oh my God,” Dash groans. “You’re impossible.”
We pull up to the Puck Pad, tires crunching over gravel, and the conversation shifts the way it always does. Jokes, food, naps, and practice.
Marshall hops out first, still grinning like he just got front-row seats to drama he doesn’t want to be involved in but can’t stop himself. Dash claps me on the shoulder a little too hard.
“Text her,” he says. “Or don’t, but in case you can’t tell, you’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling.”
Faulker pauses at the door, glances back at me once with that smug look again.
I ignore him and head inside, jaw tight, because here’s the thing: they don’t know. I didn’t get ghosted; I got trusted by a girl who doesn’t give that to just anyone, and then she ran scared.
Dash passes by, making some half-assed comment about needing to grab a box to move to the rental, but he doesn’t head toward his room; he heads straight to my room.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, following him.
“Looking for evidence,” he says easily, already pushing my door open.
I swear under my breath. “Get out of my room.”
He ignores me completely, scanning the space like he’s casing a crime scene. Then he goes straight for the bed.
“No,” I snap.
Too late, he grabs the pillow and sniffs it. His spine goes ramrod straight, and he closes his eyes.
The pillow slips from his hands and lands back on the bed. “You’re kidding me.”
Marshall appears in the doorway, drawn by the tension. “What did you find?”
Dash doesn’t even look at him. Just shakes his head slowly as he steps past us, “I hope you know what you’re doing, man.”
Marshall looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Should I be scared or impressed?”
“Neither,” I say flatly.
He snorts. “Yeah. Sure.” He leaves, still shaking his head.
I stand there alone for a second longer than I should, staring at the bed, at the pillow, and realize I’m not pissed he knows it was Sofie Fairfax here, I’m pissed he knows how she fucking smells.
A light tap on my bedroom door sounds before it opens, and Paul walks in with a plate, nudging the door shut behind him. “Gotta eat, kid.”
I motion toward my nightstand. “I ate.”
“Couple protein bars and shakes made in a factory out of shit the internet swears should not be consumed by even lab rats.”
“It’s organic.”
“So are these eggs, fresh from the hen house. Chickens, too, but not any of my girls.”
I’m not hungry, but I take the plate and remind myself I’ve been hungry, and food is fuel. “I appreciate it.”
He sniffs the air, “Might wanna air this place out. Smells like the winter’s sun, surrounding someone who lets you get close enough to notice, you’re lucky. Smells like someone who survived and kept her grace.”
I feel my entire body tense, and he clearly sees it.
He leans against the door and crosses his arms, dropping his voice to a whisper, “She doesn’t want anyone to know yet, and it’s for a reason I will not go into. But you in here pouting, after taking care of one of my girls last night, hiding that from all of them tells me you’ve earned it.”
He now has my attention.
“That scent, I’ve known it for years. Sofie smells like her mother did last time I saw her, but with a little more armor.”
I sit up straighter, “You knew her mother?”
He nods, “I’m sure you know Patsy and I couldn’t have kids, and wanted them desperately.”
“While others have them and don’t deserve them.”
He nods. “My Patsy volunteered at Harbor House.”
“Where her mother worked.”
He shakes his head. “That’s the story spun by her father and his company.
She lived on Waverly with us. The second teen we took in.
We had Marcy, who ran away when she got pregnant, lost track of her, but searched for her for a very long time.
Maggie healed what broke inside Patsy,” he shakes his head, “and me. A week after she was eighteen, she married Sofie’s dad, who asked me for her hand, and I refused to give him my blessing. ”
“Is he a bad man?”
“Maybe? But he loved Maggie. Loved Sofie too.” He forces a small smile and then pulls a photo out of his pocket, walks over to me, and tosses it on the bed. “This was Marcy.”
“That’s…” I shake my head because it looks like Claudia, exactly like her.
“We have no proof yet, and until then, Claudia and Deacon need nothing else on their plate.”
He hands me another photo, and there is no doubt who they are, either.
“That’s a beautiful picture. A beautiful family.”
“When Maggie died, he made it impossible to see Sofie. As Patsy’s husband, it was my duty and privilege to try to make it seem okay, make her okay.”
“You’re a good man.”
“I’m an asshole kid. One who will fuck up your life if you hurt her, but gave you top secret information because I trust my gut.
My gut tells me you care for her even though you don’t want to.
Your past and what you have been through tell me that you may be the only one who will be strategic while keeping your eye on the prize, which is Sofie Hale,” he rolls his eyes, “Fairfax. You get through all the hell she may give you, while you fall into a love you will never be able to fall out of. You give her the loyalty and love she deserves, and she will give you so much more. Hell, my Patsy’s love just kept growing. They’re proof.”
“You do not want me for her.”
“Why?”
“Those I love suffer or die.”