Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Bodi
My face is throbbing and being named first star of the game doesn’t help the bad feeling winding through my gut.
Not being able to talk to Jayne, touch her, kiss her, is frustrating as fuck.
Even with Billie here as a buffer, I couldn’t spend any quality time with Jayne.
And I don’t know what just went down with Lourdes, but Jayne left without even saying goodbye.
Lindy was with her, so I’m assuming she had no choice but to take her sister home.
“This must be your sister.” West comes over to us and holds out his hand to Billie since he didn’t have a chance to meet her in L.A. “West McGregor.”
“Billie Michener.” Her eyes twinkle as she shakes his hand. “Good to officially meet you. I’ve been following your career a long time.”
He grins. “It’s cause I’m awesome, right?”
She laughs. “Well, you are. You’re also a pain in my boyfriend’s ass.”
He grins. “That’s what I live for—making guys on all the other teams hate me.”
They chat about hockey for a few minutes and I stop listening, more interested in what’s going on around me.
The room is filled with friends and family, everyone excited to be sharing the win with us.
This is the first of hopefully many home wins, and celebrating with our loved ones should be an amazing feeling.
Instead, I’m struggling.
“Good game, Michener.” Coach Morrison comes over to us and he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s checking Billie out.
He’s old enough to be her father—what the fuck?
Billie’s really good about stuff like this, though.
“Hi. Billie Michener. I’m Bodi’s sister. Sorry if we broke the rules in Vegas.”
Coach’s eyes widen and then he throws back his head and laughs. “Nice to meet you, Billie. The boys were technically on lockdown. However, I didn’t say they couldn’t have family stop by to say hello, so next time I know to be more specific.”
“Of course. Just make sure your spies are a little more accurate next time.” She’s grinning broadly, like she thinks it’s funny, but it’s just a barb masked as a joke. “And what a great game tonight, right?”
“About time.” He glances at me. “And I’m glad to see you finally living up to your potential, Bodi.”
“Thank you.” Hopefully, he can’t see how pissed off I am.
“You coming to dinner?” Coach asks, looking directly at Billie.
“My boyfriend plays for the Phantoms,” she replies lightly. “So, it’s probably not a good idea.”
Coach pauses. “Who’s your boyfriend?”
“Rome Castellano.”
There’s no mistaking the tic in his cheek when she says Rome’s name.
“He’s close to the end of his career, isn’t he?”
“Probably.” She smiles again, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “But at the moment he’s doing well with the Phantoms.”
“I’m not sure inviting someone from an opposing team is a good idea,” Coach says diplomatically, scratching his chin. “You know how these guys can be.”
It’s probably more about how Lourdes would react, but I don’t say that and let Billie do her thing.
“Of course. I think we’re going over to Bodi’s place to hang out for a while anyway. I don’t get to see him often since you stole him away from L.A.”
“Had a team to build,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “And a championship to win. Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Billie. See you at practice tomorrow, boys.” He nods at West and me before walking away.
“Come on, let’s get going,” Billie says, nudging me back to the present. “It’ll be easier to talk once we get to your house.”
“I’m going out with everyone,” West says quietly. “Gives you a little more privacy and me a chance to play nice. I’ll see you later.”
He heads toward the exit and Billie and I exchange glances.
“Let’s just meet up with Rome,” Billie says, tugging my arm when I don’t move right away.
I’m worried about Jayne.
About a lot of things.
Tonight has been a stark reminder that this road Jayne and I have chosen isn’t going to be an easy one.
We have the house to ourselves since West, Felix, Simon, and Vik all went out to eat with everyone, and I call Jayne the minute we get there.
“Hey.” She sounds tired.
“What happened?” I demand. “Did they make you leave?”
“Well, Lourdes asked me to bring Lindy home since it’s late for her. I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Making it impossible for you to go to dinner or come here,” I rumble in annoyance.
I’m not sure why I’m so upset.
It’s not like this is our first day sneaking around. Something about being in the family lounge, with everyone else and their significant others, without being able to even talk to her, just makes our situation that much more frustrating.
“Bodi?” Her voice quakes a little, like she’s afraid of what I might say.
And I never want her to be afraid of me.
“He’s a dickweed,” I mutter. “But don’t worry—everything is going to be okay.”
“Is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tonight was…awful. I hated not being able to talk to you. Comfort you. Check that injury to your face.”
“I know, baby.” My voice drops.
Maybe that’s what I’m feeling—a disconnect because of our inability to be there for each other.
“I’m sorry I can’t be with you and Billie and Rome tonight, but I can’t leave Lindy home alone. Lourdes found a way to effectively cut me off.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She hesitates. “Look, go enjoy the little bit of time you have with Rome and Billie. And I guess I’ll see you later this week?”
“I’ll come by the library tomorrow after practice. Lunch?”
“Sure.”
“See you tomorrow.”
I disconnect but don’t feel much better.
Billie and Rome distract me, of course, and it’s great spending time with them, but it’s hard not to focus on the fact that Jayne isn’t here.
“You okay?” Rome asks me when Billie goes to the restroom.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Sorry. Just thinking about Jayne and the situation we’re in.”
“Be careful,” he says quietly. “I don’t know what she’s up to but Lourdes is slippery, immoral, and dangerous.”
“One thing Jayne and I can’t figure out is why she would leave a guy like you—her age, good-looking from a woman’s perspective, making NHL-level money—for a guy nearly twenty years her senior who wasn’t making that kind of money back then. Maybe not even now.”
“The money disappeared,” Rome says simply, shrugging. “She spent everything we had, maxed out all our joint credit cards, and realized that I wasn’t going to give her the lifestyle she expected.”
“But Coach didn’t have that kind of money.”
“From what my lawyer heard, he got a million dollars in life insurance from his wife, and once he won that first championship, his salary went way up. I think she jumped on what she considered a long-term money train. Where they had the life insurance to get them through the short-term, gambling that it would pay off once he got to the NHL.”
“They’re living large,” I say thoughtfully. “You’d think that initial million dollars is gone and even with his new salary, it doesn’t make sense.”
“I think she knew she could manipulate someone like Coach Morrison a lot easier than me.”
“And the kid means he’ll have to support them for a long time.”
“Exactly. The whole interior decorator thing Jayne said she’s doing?
That’s nonsense. She doesn’t have any skills or experience in that, beyond decorating her own homes.
I’m guessing it’s just a way for her to subsidize her spending habits.
And if she can trick the WAGs on the team into paying her for her so-called expertise, all the better. ”
“Don’t you think that means everyone will eventually figure out who she really is?”
“Like I said, she’s slippery. She always seems to find a way to get what she wants.”
I’m still thinking about our conversation a few hours later when I get into bed, after Billie and Rome are gone and I hear some of the guys coming in. I’m just about to turn out the light when I feel the rustle of paper.
I look over and see an envelope. With my name on the outside in Jayne’s handwriting.
Another letter.
She gave me one other one, right before she left L.A.
, and it was a sweet but intimate look at her life—and all the things she wants to do, both personally and professionally.
So, I’m curious about this one. I assume she gave it to Billie to slip into my room, and I smile as I open it.
The date on the front tells me it was written the night after our first official date, when we left the farmers’ market.
Bodi,
This is a long one, so buckle up. There are so many things I want to tell you but I think I’m a little shy.
Or maybe it’s just that I’m not confident in where we stand because it’s so damn new.
I just know that I felt something when we were stuck in that elevator together—and today, when I saw you at the market, it was like someone lit a fire inside me.
Is that silly? Probably, but I can’t help it.
You make me smile. You also make me feel seen.
And no one has cared to see the real me since my mom died.
I’m not going down that road again—you already know I miss her. And I know you miss your parents. Someday, I hope you tell me more about them. Until then, I thought I’d tell you all the things you might not think to ask me. The good, the bad, and the mediocre.
I really do study too much. I read and write papers and think about the next paper or the next book.
Someday I want to write one. Well, I want to write two…
one has to be a romance because I’ll create a happy ending for someone, even if it winds up not being me.
And the other would be non-fiction, about my love of books and words and literature.
Super geeky, and I’m sure no one would buy it. Except maybe you?
I’d dedicate the romance to you, because you inspire a thousand plot bunnies.
And the other would be for my mom, who instilled the love of books into me.
So, you have to be prepared for the girl who has a stack of books on her nightstand. Who spends her free time reading and buying books and thinking about the next books she wants to buy. You’ll probably have to drag me out on a Saturday night by the hair…
I laugh at that.
I’ve never had to drag her anywhere. And the moment we touch, I’m fairly confident she’s not thinking about books.
I kind of like the idea of inspiring her to write a romance hero. I’d be down with being a knight or something.
I read the letter and then read it again.
And it makes me smile.
All the things she thinks make her “bad” or “mediocre” actually turn me on. Her glasses. The pretty skirts she wears to work. Her “saggy” breasts—her words, not mine—and a dozen other things I love about her.
I stare up at the ceiling for a beat as reality crashes over me.
I love everything about her.
I love her.
Now I just have to figure out how the hell we’re going to be together without blowing up my hockey career.