Chapter Two
THE SILENCE IN LAINA’S new apartment was deafening.
It was something she had never experienced, and honestly, something she had never thought she’d have any reason experience. Since her job meant being around children who were at that age when noise and energy were non-negotiables, silence was usually a rarity, and a blessing because of it.
But now, though...
She had been sitting on the floor for twenty minutes, her back against the wall, her knees drawn up, her phone facedown in her lap. And throughout it, all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing.
And that sound...just wasn’t enough.
Her hand drifted to the chain at her throat.
Troy’s ring hung from it, warm against her skin, hidden under her sweatshirt the way it had been hidden under every shirt she’d worn for the past seven years.
She had left behind the mug, the badge, the stickers.
But the ring she couldn’t leave. The ring she wore against her heart because it was the one thing about their marriage that had always felt real.
She wrapped her arms around herself, but it didn’t help.
She realized now that the silence disturbed her because it allowed her to think of things that she didn’t want to think.
Before this, she had nothing to hide from.
Before this, even when she was on her own, she was comfortable in letting her thoughts roam free.
But that was before.
When she hadn’t yet fallen in love.
And got her heart broken.
In those days, she had embraced both the noise and the silence.
Actually, if one were to ask the people who knew her, they’d say that Laina herself was the noise in everyone’s lives.
She was the type to laugh freely and chat nonstop about the things she loved.
Her enthusiasm matched those of her students, and she had never been the type to hold back to look cool.
Her curiosity and friendliness knew no bounds.
And so did her lack of organization, which often contributed to the daily noise in her life.
She was always missing something. Or tripping over something.
And to be fair...
Those things hadn’t changed when she met...him. Or when she had moved into his home. She had stayed the same. While the man she married...he was the one who had changed.
Her phone suddenly buzzed, and the sound made her jerk.
Her gaze strayed to its screen, and her heart just...sank.
It was a text from Aunt Trisha. Troy's aunt. The one relative of his who had always been kind to her. Who had always made her feel welcome at family gatherings, even when Laina couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't quite belong.
Troy called me earlier, sweetheart. He told me what happened. I just want you to know I'm here if you need to talk. You know I've always considered you the daughter I never had.
Laina stared at the message for a long time.
So Troy had already told his family. Before even talking to her about it, he had called his aunt. And while a part of her understood, another part of her...
It hurt. In a small, quiet way that she couldn't quite name. Because it meant that when Troy needed someone to talk to, Laina wasn't the person he turned to. She never had been.
She was still thinking of what to reply when her phone buzzed in her hands again, and this time, the name on the screen made her pale.
Troy.
The phone nearly slipped from her fingers. He was calling her. Again. This man who could have had any woman in the world. He was calling her like she really mattered to him.
And he...had been doing a lot of that since she left.
Calling. Texting. Even leaving her voicemails, which he had never done before.
Until now.
Until when it was too late.
The buzzing finally stopped.
But she already knew...
Ah.
There it was again.
In a way, she should probably be...relieved?
Because honestly, a part of her had been terrified that he would just nod once she told him about the divorce. And he would simply let her go because she had long ceased to matter.
So these repeated attempts to contact her, even if it was just his guilt acting up...
That meant she still mattered to him—no, actually, that wasn’t fair to him.
He had his faults, but he had never abused or neglected her.
She had always mattered to him, and he had always provided for her in ways that most wives could only dream of.
Because of him, she could buy or do anything she wanted.
Fly wherever she wanted in his private jet.
And honestly, when he was at home, their nights...
were really, really...well, let’s just say she hadn’t anything to complain of.
But even so.
Even so.
Laina forced herself up the moment she felt her eyes start to well up.
Don’t cry, Laina. This is for the best. So don’t cry.
She looked around and told herself it was time to put on her big-girl pants and start doing something.
Anything. The walls in this apartment were still bare.
She only had a mattress, but she didn’t have a bed or a couch.
She had packed her suitcase, and her toiletries, and her teaching bag.
But the rest of her belongings were back at home—no, no, don’t call it that!
What she meant was that she had left stuff at...his place. And she would simply have to learn to make do without them. It was that or allow herself to talk to him—
Buzz.
He was calling her. Again. This man who could have had any woman in the world. He was calling her like she really mattered to him.
But she couldn’t let the past happen all over again.
Couldn’t let herself keep pretending they were okay.
And the most painful thing about this whole thing, with her phone ringing nonstop...was that she found herself crying yet again.
TROY CALLED BURTON at nine that evening.
"I need a status," he told him.
“Standard locks,” Burton reported. “Decent neighborhood.”
“Then she’s not safe.”
Burton was used to such commentary. Barrymore had been his client for over a decade. A hockey star like him had to deal with a lot of crazies, and the man had been even more determined to protect his privacy since his marriage.
“The building has a main entrance and a fire exit,” he elaborated. “Super lives on-site. No parking garage. Street parking only—she's in a permit zone.”
“That’s not enough for me.”
“That’s a given,” Burton acknowledged, “you being you.”
Troy scowled. “Are you implying something?”
“Look, son. I’ve known you for a long time, and I was mighty glad for you, when I got to meet your wife. I saw how protective you were with her, and that’s why I understand, where you’re coming from with all this.”
“Just get to your point,” Troy said curtly.
“No place is going to be good enough for you,” Burton said simply. “So if you want your wife safe, find a way to get her back.”
Over an hour later, and Troy still couldn’t get Burton’s words out of his mind.
Find a way to get her back.
His lips tightened. That was easier said than done. Laina might look fragile on the outside, but once she made up her mind about something...
Troy walked back to his study, where a folder waited for him on the desk. Aside from performing a safety assessment of his wife’s new neighborhood, he had also asked his security consultant to take surveillance photos of the whole place.
And Burton...
The man was either thinking of punishing or rewarding Troy by including one photo of Laina, taken with one of Burton’s cameras with a long-distance lens.
It was Laina, seen from her living room window, and she was on the floor, with her knees tucked under her chin, and her arms around herself.
Beautiful beyond words, but also...with an expression that broke his heart.
Burton’s second call came two hours later, this time reaching Troy while he was still in the kitchen and staring at the cabinet door that his wife had left open...and he somehow couldn’t find it in himself to close.
How the hell had he gotten this sentimental?
“Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time,” Burton said when Troy answered the call.
“You did.” Because without his wife by his side, he would always have a bad time.
“Sorry about that. Should I call you another time?”
“No, it’s fine. What do you have for me?”
“Mrs. Barrymore—” Burton paused. “She’s still that, isn’t she? Divorce papers aren’t finalized?”
“She’s still my wife.” And he wasn’t letting her go without a fight.
“Good to hear that,” Burton said gruffly. “So, going back...your wife attended thirty-one home games over four seasons. Section 308, upper deck. Row 14. She bought her own ticket."
Troy found himself gripping the edge of the counter.
Thirty-one games.
Four seasons.
His wife had been in the building, sitting in the upper deck with a ticket she bought herself, watching him play, and he hadn't known.
He'd played those games. He'd scored in some of them. He'd walked off the ice and through the tunnel and past the press room and into the parking lot and driven home to a house where his wife was already in bed.
But not once, not once, had it occurred to him that she had been there. That she had watched him and driven home separately and gone to bed and said nothing.
I’m sorry, Laina.
She had never been interested in hockey, and so he had never thought she would want to watch him.
But even so...
He knew that was no excuse.
His wife. Thirty-one games. And he never knew.
LAINA CAME HOME FROM work three days later to find a brand-new deadbolt on her apartment door and a note tucked under the mat.
Oh, Troy.
She wanted to be mad. But she just couldn’t find it in herself to be angry.
Instead, she found herself fighting back tears...while telling herself that this didn’t change anything.
She put her bag down, crouched, and picked up the note. She stared at it for a long time...before tearing the piece of paper into pieces without reading it. Tears blurred her gaze, but she somehow managed to send him a text message without any typos.
I appreciate it. Thank you. But I hope you understand if I’d like this to be the last.