7. Lisa
Lisa
“You really think I believe that bullshit?”
Austin is towering over me, voice tight with barely contained rage. I instinctively shrink back, and he steps forward, filling the space I try to leave between us. He grabs the railing on the stairs, and his knuckles turn white in a matter of seconds.
“You think I don’t see what’s going on here?” Austin motions behind us. We’re outside, but the thrum of the music is loud enough to hear through the closed doors. It’s also loud enough that nobody inside can hear what’s taking place out here.
“There’s a reason I told you not to come to stupid shit like this. I saw you, all over the guys in there. You really can’t keep away, can you?”
“I told you, Patty invited me.” I hear the tremble in my voice, and though I know it will make me sound more guilty, I can’t keep it from my tone. “She kept asking why I never come, so I figured one drink –”
“Enough!” He cuts me off with a roar. “Clearly you need to be reminded who you belong to, Alyssa.”
He steps close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my face, and my heart sinks at his words.
I risk a quick glance at his face and see all the rage he normally keeps so carefully contained in public.
His restraint has officially snapped. “And how are you supposed to learn when you won’t shut your goddamn mouth? ”
The bitter taste of what I woke up from this morning hasn’t gone away, even several hours later.
I scrub furiously at a stain on the bartop and attempt to focus on Andi’s words.
If I can keep myself in the present, it won’t be nearly as bad, and if anyone can help me with that, it’s the animated blonde sitting on the barstool in front of me.
“I expected them to be…cheerier,” Andi observes, taking a long sip of her radler.
Most of the Leopards team is here, but they aren’t nearly as rowdy as I’d expect a post-game hockey team to be.
Instead, they’re sitting around, drinking and murmuring amongst themselves.
Some are playing pool, but most are on their phones, scrolling intently while spitting their dip every now and then into disposable cups. Gross and depressing.
“That might have something to do with it.” I gesture to the screen, where a news cast is highlighting the score of the hockey game earlier today.
The Pirates beat the Leopards, three to two.
Andi glances up as the score switches to a snippet from the game, where #17 on the Leopards is squaring off with player #23 on the Pirates.
They spin, and the name ESTES becomes clear as day on the back of the Leopards jersey.
“Holy shit,” Andi breathes. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
I can only nod, watching as he lifts the Pirates player straight off his skates and slams him to the ground, going down on one knee himself to continue pummeling him. I wince and look away, scanning the sea of blue.
To my surprise, Benjamin Estes isn’t watching the TV; he’s watching me.
I meet his gaze, and the intensity of it makes me pale.
Unlike earlier this week, there is no soft contemplation.
There’s something dark there, as though the fight from the game earlier in the day only angered him further, rather than being an outlet.
My stomach churns at the thought, and I look away.
“Excuse me. Do you mind changing the channel?”
I turn to see the teammate with the mustache at the bar, his face grim. “What?”
“Do you mind changing the channel?” he repeats. “It was a tough game. We’d rather not see the replays.”
“Uh. Y-yeah.”
He fixes me with a strange look, as though he has a question he wants to ask, but apparently thinks better of it.
He shifts away, giving Andi a quick nod as he returns back to his teammates.
I grab the remote and flip to a new channel, and Andi sidles back up to me on the other side of the bar, grinning.
“Oh my god. What I wouldn’t give to take him for a ride,” she says, giving a wistful, dramatic sigh.
I raise a brow at her. “Him? The one with the lip foliage?”
She nods. “Oh, I am an active member of the clit tickler fan club.” I choke on a laugh, and she grins and taps the bartop. “Now get me another beer, so I can work up the courage to go ask him if I can suck his dick until I lose my voice. Respectfully, of course.”
I snort and grab her empty glass. I’m ready to make a comment about what a vivid picture she paints, but the response dies in my throat when I see her frown, eyes flicking to someone out of my line of sight.
“If you phrase it like that, it doesn’t matter how many beers you or Grant have. He’ll say yes.”
At this point, I’d recognize that voice anywhere, even with amusement in it I haven’t heard before.
Andi flushes and stammers, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, and I take my time refilling her glass. I inhale deeply as I straighten the glass and fill it the remainder of the way up, mentally bracing myself. Finally, I pass the fresh beer to her and turn to face Benjamin.
He’s leaning against the bar, a jacket over his Leopards sweater, and that trademark male baseball cap, turned backwards, because of course it is.
He’s got a half-smile fixed on his face, but it’s more polite than genuine.
That darkness I saw earlier is still a shadow behind his eyes, and it makes me tense.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask coolly. “Anything to drink, that is. Your last proposition didn’t work that well.”
He regards me for a long moment, then gives Andi a sidelong look. She meets it and then raises her brow at me in question. I give her a quick nod and pair it with a small smile. I’m okay – after all, what can he do here, other than yell again?
She shrugs and lifts her full glass in a salute. “I guess I’ll go see if your theory about this Grant fellow is correct, then.” She lifts herself off the barstool, but shoots me a pointed look before leaving. “I’ll be right over here.”
When she’s out of earshot, Benjamin turns back to me. “Does she know?” he asks.
My stomach drops. He could mean several things, and none of them are good. I clutch the bartop and attempt to keep my voice level. “Know what?”
“That Lisa Graham isn’t your real name.”
What the fuck?
It’s all I can take not to collapse behind the bar. My grip turns sweaty, there’s a ringing that begins in my ears, and the edges of my vision go fuzzy. His eyes narrow as he takes in my response, and I know there’s no talking my way out of it.
I had accounted for every piece of my past, ensuring there were no tie backs to my former life. I hadn’t, however, counted on someone from my future digging as deep as Benjamin fucking Estes obviously had. Why the hell was he digging into me, anyway? Had our run-ins really upset him that much?
I lick my lips, willing moisture back into my mouth, now bone-dry. “How – how do you know?” I manage to ask.
“I have my ways.” He leans over the bartop and lowers his voice. “Now, are you going to be honest with me, or do I need to scream your lies to the world?”
My heart begins pounding as I consider how to proceed. No – anything but a public announcement. It’s as though he knows exactly what I didn’t want to have happen. Maybe…he is the one planning these run-ins? The one stalking me?
Perhaps I have it all wrong, and he’d been hired to find me. Did hockey players have side gigs?
“I have money. I can pay you not to say anything,” I plead.
He hesitates, and I jump on that. So, it was about the money then. Somebody hired him, and I can only think of one person who would want to. I lean in to meet him halfway across the bartop, and he tips his head in a way that tells me to continue.
“Seriously,” I whisper urgently. “Whatever he’s offering you, I can double it. Triple it. Just say the word. Just please, don’t tell him I’m here.”
His head jerks back. He opens his mouth, then closes it without a word. Is he…surprised that I’m willing to pay? That I can afford to? Well, joke’s on them, then.
I scour his face for answers. Despite the fight that had happened earlier, he doesn’t appear to have a single bruise, and he’s cleaned up. I hate that I can smell a scent like leather and sandalwood coming off of him, because it smells amazing.
His hand twitches, reaching forward, and I pull back automatically. He pauses, then lifts the hand to rub his chin, almost looking…concerned? I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of his expression.
“Him? Who…who are you talking about?” He practically breathes the question, as though he’s been punched in the gut. Suddenly, I feel the same.
Shit. Whatever just happened was a series of coincidences, leading to an admission that shouldn’t have come out. If I wasn’t screwed before, I certainly am now.
“Are you in trouble?” he asks, and oh, god. The look he’s giving me – full lips pursed, those dark eyes wide and brimming with, yep, that’s definitely concern now– tells me he’s not going to drop this.
It was one thing when he was angry at me, wanting me to leave him alone. Now, I have a feeling I’ll be the one convincing him to leave me alone. Maybe the dream I had this morning was a sign. No matter where I am, I haven’t truly escaped anything.
I jolt away from the bartop as though it’s started on fire. “I’ve gotta go.”
I turn away and sidle to the corner of the bar where our coats hang, snagging mine. I’ll have to find my manager, make some excuse about feeling sick, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to fake. My hands feel clammy and I’m certain the blood hasn’t yet returned to my face.
I glance back to see that Benjamin is standing straight up, watching me carefully. “Don’t follow me,” I say, my voice choppy, and slip away before he can respond.