54. Roman
FIFTY-FOUR
ROMAN
I pull on my tie with rough, jerking hands and mess up twice. All morning, I haven’t been able to concentrate. Now it’s game time and my body is acting like I haven’t slept in two days and I’m basically surviving on espresso shots.
Oh, wait. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing.
I can’t sleep when Lavinia is wide awake next to me, watching her career and reputation go down the drain with each stitch and repost of Josh’s interview.
The video has millions of views, and everyone has something to say about it, whether they know Lavinia or not.
Lavinia’s phone is currently locked up in Jules’s desk drawer so she can’t log onto her profile and read all the comments people are tagging her in. If that’s not bad enough, Lavinia’s decided that she wants to go to tonight’s game. She’s growing antsy staying inside.
Soft hands push mine aside and grab my tie. I lower my hands and let Lavinia take over.
“I don’t want you to come,” I say honestly. “He’s going to try to mess with your head again.”
She looks up at me, her eyes red rimmed. “I’m not the one who’s playing tonight. And he can’t harm me while I’m sitting in the audience. Besides, any harm he’d intended has already been done.”
I grind my jaw, remembering two nights ago and the words she whispered in the darkness of her old bedroom. We’d decided to spend the night at her parent’s house instead of driving back to mine or her apartment. Too much is going on right now, but I can’t do the separate apartment shit any longer.
We were lying face-to-face, under a bright pink duvet. String lights hung over the ceiling and the soft cozy curtains of the four-poster bed pulled close. The bed was too small for two adults, but we didn’t have a problem sleeping close together.
“Everything he said is true,” she’d whispered. I’d pulled back a little to look at her. Her eyes were trained on my chest as she drew mindless circles on it. “I never did anything to him. But that doesn’t mean those things didn’t happen.”
My body went rigid as I realized what she wasn’t saying. Everything happened because he did them to her . The gaslighting, the manipulation that he said Lavinia did? That was all him.
My body shook with the force of my anger, and it took everything in me to calm down, to focus on my wife.
My strong, fierce Lavinia. I thought Josh’s ugliness was surface level, that he was a shallow, narcissistic man, but he’d never do anything to harm her.
I guess I was also fooled by the pretense he put on for everyone.
Lavinia looked up at me, tears brimming in her eyes. “I hadn’t realized then. I’d been so scared after my surgery and the recovery, I couldn’t focus on anything. Those entire two years are a blur to me. It’s only now that I’m starting to realize what happened.”
I saw it in her sometimes, the skittishness and fear of making a mistake. I used to see it with my mother all the time. Then she started drinking and stopped giving a fuck about what my father thought. Reese’s idea was sounding more and more brilliant by the second.
I felt a kind of all-consuming rage that I’d never felt before, not even for my father.
If I ignored him, I could put him out of my mind.
But I can’t do that with Josh. There’s this murderous rage inside me at seeing Lavinia’s tears, and the only thing that will quell it is Josh’s blood on my hands.
Some of that rage was directed at myself as well because I didn’t see it sooner.
I pulled her close into the safety of my arms.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I said hoarsely. “If I had known, I’d have gotten you away from him sooner.”
“It’s not your fault.” Lavinia shakes her head. “If I’d understood what was happening sooner, I’d have left him. Now, it’s giving him the chance to twist everything around.”
“We’re going to find a way to fix this. I promise,” I’d told her.
This morning, she’d gotten two emails from her agent cancelling two brand deals. People are so quick to believe a woman is at fault if the word is coming from a mediocre man famous enough to make them believe anything.
They don’t want to see anything past the fact that Josh is Philadelphia’s golden boy. Whatever Lavinia has achieved in her career means nothing to them.
“There, all set.” She pats my chest before helping me put on the jacket that goes with my suit.
“How can I convince you to stay home?” I ask.
She sighs with frustration. “Roman, I’m not going to hide at home. That’s not like me and it’s probably what Josh expects. Why do I need to hide when I haven’t done anything wrong? Besides, the Snack Pack is going to be with me the whole time.”
“Are you sure? I can be very convincing.” I slide my hands under her top and against her bare skin. She’s so soft and warm. I don’t want to leave her and go play with a bunch of sweaty guys.
“I’m sure you think that,” she says, her lips tilting up into a smile. “But I have yet to hear a convincing argument from you.”
“I convinced you to stay married to me,” I counter.
She shrugs, waving that off. “I did that for my own selfish reasons.”
“Was one of the reasons I’m incredibly handsome and you find me utterly irresistible?” I lean in, sucking on the skin below her ear. As I expected, she squirms.
“Maybe. Most of it was that I didn’t want to ruin my good reputation by being the girl who got drunk and married in Vegas. I feel stupid now.” She puts her arms around my shoulders, kissing me. “You’re the best thing that’s come of this whole ordeal. And you’re utterly irresistible.”
I try to deepen the kiss, but she pushes me away, reminding me that I’m going to be late. I pick up my bag, kiss her and the kitties goodbye. As I’m about to walk out the door something occurs to me, and I turn to her.
“What the hell is a Snack Pack?” I ask, incredulously.
Her mouth tilts up into a crooked smile, some of the light finally returning to her eyes. “It’s our girl group. Like you have the HoBros.”
“That’s such a good name. Reese is going to be jealous.”
I close the door to the sound of her laughter.
I’m in the arena walking towards the dressing room when I see who’s standing in front of the door.
Literally the last person I ever want to see, and my body is immediately on high alert.
As I walk up, my father shakes hands with Coach Cross and turns to me.
His expression is neutral, but I’ve known the man long enough to see the anger in his eyes that he’s trying hard to hide.
“I’ll give you two a minute to talk,” Coach Cross says. “Maddox, when you’re done, come see me in the office.”
I already assumed a talk was coming. He’s not going to let me onto the ice without warning me about my actions. The only reason I’m going to be civil tonight is because Lavinia expects it of me.
Once Coach walks away, I turn to my father. When I was little, everyone told me that I looked like him. But his anger and narcissism has twisted his face so that he’s completely unrecognizable to me. Every day is a battle to become nothing like him.
“What are you doing here?” I knew he was coming to my games, but we haven’t exactly spoken to each other in person. He comes to save face, to make sure I’m behaving, not because he wants to see me play.
“I came to make sure you don’t fuck everything up,” he hisses. “It took a lot of goodwill to get you here, kid. I’ve watched you destroy all the good reputation I spent years working for and I’m not going to stand back anymore.”
My body goes rigid. Is he suggesting he’s the reason I’m here? My father pulled strings to make sure I was traded here.
Not that it matters either way. Months ago, I made the decision that I was going to retire if I was being traded again.
Lavinia is the only thing that’s keeping me in Boston and I’m not going to uproot her life to wherever I’m traded next.
I don’t need anyone other than her. She needs her whole community of people. The decision is easy.
“I’ve never cared what you think and I’m not going to start now,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice even. “In case it isn’t perfectly clear, my avoiding your phone calls means I don’t want to talk to you. Stay the fuck out of my life.”
I step around him to walk away, and he grabs my arm to pull me back.
His face is clouded with anger. “It took a lot of goodwill to get you here and I’m going to make sure you don’t give it up for your pussy of the month.
She’s ruining whatever is left of your career and you’re too pussy drunk to see it. ”
It’s really an indication of where this night is going because the first person I punch tonight is my father.
Anger surges through me like fire, burning through my veins.
It's the second time in my life I've been this angry.
The first was two days ago when I saw the news about Josh's podcast interview.
The punch is quick, it's efficient, and my father doesn't see it coming.
Bones crunch under my fist as my father falls back against the wall.
His eyes are wide with horror and disbelief as he raises a hand up to his nose.
Blood trickles down his face and I get a sick sense of satisfaction from seeing it.
“I told you before to keep my wife's name out of your mouth,” I say, my voice deceptively calm. “My relationship has nothing to do with you. And this punch is a warning. If you ever speak of her again?—”
“What, you're going to kill me?” He cuts me off, laughing.
“Kill you? No, that will be too easy.” I lean in close so he can see the hatred and anger in my eyes. “I'm going to destroy that precious reputation. I'm going to show everyone who Asher Maddox really is.”
The horror finally sinks in that he can't control me anymore. He was never able to control me and that's his biggest regret.
“Everything okay out here?” Ford steps out of the dressing room. He looks at me and my father, not even blinking at the sight of the blood.
“We're just catching up,” I say.