35. Shannon
CHAPTER 35
SHANNON
Outside I pause in the quiet, carpeted corridor, grateful that it’s basically empty. There’s a guy on a laptop at the end of the hall, and I give him a polite wave before ducking across the hall into an unused room.
I’m not needed for anything to do with this team anymore, and it breaks my heart.
The only person who wants me is the one person I can’t give myself to. My heart cracks open and my hands shake as I pull off Russ’s jersey.
It’s heavy as I turn it over in my hands.
Armstrong.
I need to get this back to Mabel, somehow, without making eye contact with her or ever explaining what that display just was.
Maybe I should text her that it’s in this room, and just…never see her ever again.
I pat my back pocket for my phone, but it’s not there. It’s in my purse, and…
Fuck, I left my purse in the other room.
So the eye contact is going to have to happen, because Mabel will find it when they finish up.
I pace across the room to the far wall, anxiety rising.
I don’t know how people punch walls. Punching this wall looks terrifying. I try shoving at it and that does nothing, so I lean against it and just groan.
When the door behind me opens, I nearly jump out of my skin.
Russ raises his hands. “It’s just me.”
He looks taller than usual. I look down and he’s wearing his skates still, guards on.
“Where are your shoes?”
“I left them across the hall with your purse. I told Mabel I’d come and find you.”
“And you did.” I laugh weakly. “That was fast.”
He winces. “You were easy to find. You waved at a reporter I know on your way in here.”
The anxiety explodes in my brain, like an oncoming car turning on their high beams. “A reporter?”
“It’s okay.” He comes closer. “Aaron’s a good guy, and you wearing my jersey isn’t sports news. There are some weirdos on Twitter who might find it interesting, and I really liked it, but it’s your personal business.”
I throw the offending jersey at him. “Not funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
He closes the gap between us. The uniform he’s wearing today is pristine. It still smells new . It is a neon sign that he’s off-limits. If cooking my husband a nice dinner in the final weeks of the regular season put his playoff chances in peril, having an affair with his teammate in the pre-season would definitely fuck up the entire season.
But as he stands in front of me like a shining, oversized brand-new man, I can’t forget how he made me feel over those days at his cottage.
Still, I have to try to resist.
“Russ, we can’t…” I trail off as he lifts his hand.
His fingers hover just above my bare shoulder, his attention locked on the thin strap of my tank top. “Can’t do what?”
“Anything.”
“But we already have.” His hand lowers, those fingers making contact with my shoulder.
I shudder at the deep, profound ache that spirals through me from that warm press. I miss being wanted.
I miss being desired. That’s all that this is. I’m vulnerable to his attention because I haven’t been a good enough wife and?—
He drags his fingers up my neck and tips my chin up. “I’m not going to kiss another man’s wife, don’t worry.”
I gasp and jerk away from him, because that’s what I want more than anything else.
I want him to kiss me.
I can’t unfeel all the emotions he unlocked from inside me, I’m not that strong.
Russ catches me and spins me around, pressing me against the wall. Crowding against me. “There was nothing wrong with what we did. It felt good because it was good. You’re incredible, a goddess, and feeling you come on my tongue is one of the highlights of my entire fucking life.”
His hand traces up my spine, and I shiver at the memory of his mouth moving along that same path. When he called me his queen.
“But you won’t kiss me,” I say bitterly.
“Not today. Not while you wear his ring.”
I choke on a sob.
Russ exhales and stills his touch, his hand curling around the nape of my neck. His other fingers wrapping around my hip. He presses his face into my hair from behind. “It’s okay, Shan.”
“Fuck you. Nothing is okay.”
He doesn’t respond to that. He just holds me tight, pressing me against the wall, until the fight leaves my body and I sag.
Then he turns me around and pulls me into his chest, hugging me even tighter than he pressed me against the wall.
“Why did you…” The words clog in my throat. I hope he can read my mind with the rest of the unspoken question. Why did you get physical like that?
After a long pause, he grates out, “You looked like you needed it.”
I have to fight against this, because I hate what it would mean if he’s right. “You don’t know what I need."
"Maybe I don’t. But neither does your husband."
“God damn you.” But my voice cracks.
“Where is he, Shan? Why isn’t he wrapping you in his number and holding you tight?”
I can’t tell him. So I just shake my head, and he pulls me into his chest again. I lose myself in the embrace of a man who isn’t my husband, and I cry. The weakness I feel right now is exacerbated by the strength that radiates through this man.
But as the fight leaches out of me, it’s replaced with a new calm. An uncommon steadiness that I barely recognize.
I take a deep breath.
Russ rubs my back. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Take another deep breath just like that.”
“Don’t coach me,” I mutter. But I do it anyway.
And it does feel better, but I don’t love it. I can’t let Russ take care of me. I can’t want.
He eases back and looks down at me. “You’re a mess, aren’t you?”
Somehow that works better for me.
I exhale and nod. “Yeah.”
“That’s okay. It’s okay to be a mess.” His gaze searches my face, his eyes seeing too much. “Max is still staying somewhere else?”
“Not every night.” I swallow hard. “It’s not like he’s moved out. He’s…there’s someone else. And…it’s not the first time.”
His expression betrays a flash of thunder before he tightens it up. “Shannon.”
“I know. I know . But…it’s complicated. The history between us, my past. I never expected him to be faithful, I think. Deep down. But this is the first time that I…”
Russ grips my shoulders. “It is not your fault. Don’t say that.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Help me understand.”
“I feel like I’ve betrayed my wedding vows. That’s different. I let myself down.”
“He invited me to join in that night. That wasn’t you.”
“I’m not talking about the threesome. I mean the rest of it. At some point this summer, I lost my loyalty to my husband.” I lick my lips. “I wanted them to mean something. My wedding vows. If they couldn’t mean fidelity from him, they could at least mean loyalty from me. And in exchange for my loyalty, I got something in return. Safety and security.”
To my own ears, it sounds like the worst kind of denial. I can’t imagine how it sounds to Russ.
“Don’t judge me,” I say
“I’m not,” he says, and his voice is warmer than I deserve.
“Before you, I was faithful to him. Fully.”
“We didn’t do anything. You haven’t betrayed him.”
“If only that meant something.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“God damn it.” He growls in sudden frustration. “Don’t … what is the point of sharing half of anything with me? Be messy. I can handle it.”
“Maybe I can’t!”
“Then let me handle it for you.” He ducks his head, grabbing my gaze again. “If I can’t be your lover right now, at least let me be your friend.”
I have enough friends, I want to snap. And not nearly enough lovers.
But that’s not really the truth, either.
And if there’s something I have learned from my friends this summer, it’s that there is more strength than I ever realized in being truly, fully honest. For them, it’s with their husbands. For me…I need to start with myself. And then the man I wish I could take as a lover is a good next step.
“You want to know what it means? It means if you would cross that line with me, I would be your lover. I would cheat on him, because he cheats on me all the time. You are the only reason I have stayed faithful to him this time. You are more noble and respectful of this marriage than either of the two people inside it.”
I shudder as his hands glide up my sides, and over my shoulders. He cups my face, holding my gaze, as he brushes his thumb over my parted lips.
His gentle touch against my mouth is more intimate than any kiss could ever be.
I suck in an aching gasp.
Pain lances his expression, but his voice is light. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve already made it clear that married women aren’t my type.”
“And if I weren't married?”
He looks at my mouth, and fire licks up my spine. “Then this would be a very different conversation.”
I square my shoulders. “I’ve put things in motion with another lawyer. I’m not a pushover.”
“I don’t think you are. I think your life is more complicated than anyone could ever imagine, and I wish it didn’t scare you so much to let me in a little.”
“As a friend.”
“Yes. As a friend.” But he says it in a way that promises he wants more than that.
I reach out and take back the jersey he hooked over his arm. “Then as a friend, I’m keeping this.”
“Yeah?” His gaze flares.
Good.
I need him to know that I want more than just friendship, too.
“I need something nice and warm to sleep in this winter. Since I’ll be lonely and separated and?—”
He crushes me against the wall again, this time with me facing him, his arms bracing on either side of me. “Fucking do it. Wear my number every night. And know that once you’re free, I’m going to claim you for myself.”