Chapter 20
Twenty
Xander pulled awaywithout losing that intense, forbidding look on his face. I didn’t understand his motivations and felt slightly lightheaded by the time he let me go.
What did he want from me?
He displayed no hint of remorse about sleeping with his stepmother, and I felt like an intentional conquest rather than a drunken fuck. In the light of day, Xander had gone back to being cool, calm, and collected. That was before he grabbed me for a scorching kiss in front of his team’s staff member.
I threw a nervous glance toward the rink, which was now empty, minus the two heads turned in our direction.
“Xander!” one of the puck bunnies from the stand piped up. She was a pretty blonde. “Will you sign my jersey?”
“Not now,” he tossed off, his expression barely lightening. His fan’s face fell, and she shot me a dirty look before turning to whisper to her fellow fan.
Xander continued to stare at me the same way he had throughout practice. I knew what he wanted—it was written on his face—and it seemed our audience was the only thing holding him back.
“Get your things together,” he broke the silence at last. “We’re going out.”
I frowned. “Where?”
“Secord’s. It’s a local bar.”
“Oookay. Why are we going?—”
“To drum up business. Our coach thought it’d be good if the players stood behind a small business in our community that recently took a hit. Once enough fans hear that we’re at Secord’s, the place will be packed, and then we can leave.”
While he spoke, I sensed his frustration building with each word, all laced with unhappiness over delaying our return to the estate.
Suddenly, I was glad we were going to Secord’s. He was begrudgingly holding himself back in public, and I’d rather keep it that way. My mind was already struggling with the repercussions of our recent intimacy. There hadn’t been a sane moment to process it. Meanwhile, Xander had gone from zero to sixty with a suffocating hold I hadn’t expected. A hazy memory of him wanting to impregnate me floated to the forefront of my mind.
There is no way a twenty-two-year-old wants a baby, right?
My lips burned from his kiss long after he left to get changed, a stark reminder of our treachery. I seemed to have no way out of Xander’s clutches. During his practice, I used my phone to email my clients and contact my bank. As predicted, Henry drained my accounts, canceled my credit credits, and my clients no longer wished to speak with me.
I had no one to turn to or help me out of this mess. Xander was my only remaining client. I’d be grateful for the job had he not imprisoned me in a cage that I didn’t know how to break out of.
Nonetheless, I found myself ping-ponging between simmering in my ire and having gratitude for a roof over my head. I went back and forth between betrayal and nostalgia. A part of me missed the old Xander, my partner-in-crime who made up stories with me and made me see the world through rose-colored lenses. The other part of me loathed the Xander who had become my new captor.
The contradictory feelings seemed to be shared communally. Despite screaming at him throughout practice, his coach patted Xander on the back numerous times. The man clearly had a soft spot for him.
I wasn’t surprised. Everyone was fond of Xander. He had a good head on his shoulders, was mature beyond his age, and had a calm demeanor that made him a natural leader. Of course, he also had to be committed to his new community and wanted to help a small business in need.
We didn’t talk much during the ride to the bar, the radio and the purr of his car’s engine drowned everything out. Perhaps he was troubled by his coach’s disparaging remarks on his play. They had been brutal, and I suspected my being a witness to them had only made things worse. He had gone out onto that ice in a black mood, and it had affected his practice.
I couldn’t help but feel that it was partially my fault, but Xander kept shooting me these heated glances that told me he was far from feeling resentful of my presence. He had been on edge since our inappropriate kiss. I had a feeling if the drive wasn’t so short, he would have pulled the car over for… more.
I shivered as soon as the thought crossed my mind. I felt a creeping numbness edged by something I was terrified to explore too deeply. It should have been fear, but it wasn’t.
What the hell?
Alongside the contradictory emotions—where I went back and forth between feeling sad for the friend I lost and angry at the man he had become—I was apparently also battling a clash between my mind and body. No matter what my mind declared was rational, my body had an opinion of its own.
With arms folded over my stomach, I looked out the window and watched the picturesque city scroll by until we pulled to a stop. Parking was ample, and Xander escorted me inside the little bar and grill named Secord’s.
It was a dive bar in every sense of the word: low lights, no clocks, hardwood tables so scarred and stained with beer that it was impossible to tell what kind of wood they were actually made of. In the corner was an old jukebox, the kind I remembered from the campy bars of my youth. “The Hockey Song” by Stompin’ Tom Connors was playing, which seemed a little too on the nose.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked, leading me to a large picnic-style table that could easily seat eight. “They don’t do French 75s here but have some fruit sours.”
“Water’s fine,” I told him, conscious of my new financial status. From now on, every dime he spent on me was money I’d owe him, and I planned on paying him back.
I watched him stride up to the bar. I shed my jacket and gloves, taking in the dusty arcade machines that looked older than me. None of them were plugged in, and one of them had a cracked screen. I imagined some angry gamer lost his temper and punched the little screen, which amused me until it made me think of Henry and his raised fist.
“Hey, beautiful.” A man with dark brown hair and pale blue eyes approached the table, flashing me an easy grin. He was about Xander’s age and looked like a young Paul Rudd.
I stared blankly at him when he sat, shooting an uneasy look at Xander, who was still occupied at the bar. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
In response, he thrust out his hand. “Mark. From the team? I saw you in the stands. It would have been hard to miss you. You made the lights seem dim. Has anyone told you that you should model?”
“Jesus, man. Dial it down, like, ten notches,” a guy with bright blue hair said, adjusting his glasses. Catching my incredulous look, he said, “I’m Kai. Ignore this asshole. He tries this shit on every girl.”
“Better not try it on this one.” Xander’s gruff voice made me straighten. He was holding two bottles—an IPA and something with a picture of berries on the label. “This is Jordan.” As soon as he sat, I felt his hand settle on my thigh beneath the table, making me painfully aware of him.
“Jordan?” Kai’s hazel eyes bounced between us. “Isn’t that the name of your…” he trailed off awkwardly.
Stepmother,I silently filled in the blank. The heavy words had Xander exchanging an intimidating look with Kai.
Under the table, I fidgeted nervously. Kai might be a jock, but he wasn’t stupid. He obviously knew Xander’s stepmother was also named Jordan, and it wasn’t a coincidence that the mystery girl from practice had the same name.
Oh god. He must think Xander had an Oedipus complex, and I was the biggest whore. The only thing at my disposal was to deny the allegation.
Thankfully, a huddle of men walked through the door before I had to resort to lying, all chatting loudly. As soon as they spotted us, they ambled over, ribbing each other about their performance on the ice. Xander seemed to catch the brunt of it.
Introductions were rapid-fire with personal anecdotes. It was strangely overwhelming, especially since I worked in a people-forward career.
I suppose it was because Henry had never taken me out for a casual night with his friends. His disapproval of my best friend sealed the deal on the limited friendships I regaled. I was too vulnerable back then to put up a bigger fight, and Piya was never mean-spirited about our estrangement, not that it lessened the pain.
The folly set the tone for our marriage. Henry’s coldness was stark whenever I partook in social outings. He insisted on unnecessary security before eventually deterring me from going out altogether.
Though I had created and presided over countless parties for him, they were held at our home or his office and were only meant to advance his career. I was a prop to charm his business associates, but every time the evening ended, I felt empty and numb. I made him my whole life until I was trapped beneath the bowl of one of his tasteful crystal champagne glasses. I hadn’t been able to see my prison for what it was until all the air had nearly run out.
I hadn’t been to a bar in God knows how long. For the first time in years, I was truly interacting in a social setting rather than entertaining. I had forgotten what it was like to hang out with a group of friends and actively participate in a conversation. So much so that I had nothing to contribute.
“She hasn’t said much,” a man with flawless light brown skin said. From the introductions, I remembered him as Amos.
He spoke as if I weren’t there, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I munched on the fries and the burger sliders Xander had ordered. I took a sip of the fruity drink he got me, looking at it in surprise when I found that I liked it. I had never been a fan of that type of alcohol, but this was light and delicate, almost reminding me of sparkling wine.
“You good over there?” Amos arched his eyebrows at me with a small half-smile as if we were in on a private joke.
Xander gave Amos a warning look for staring at me for a beat too long. Jesus!
“Oh, yes, she is good.” A grin broke out over Adrian’s face, his deep brown eyes sizing me up. Another man with black hair and perfect skin, though he was more olive-toned. “She is very, very good.”
“Watch it,” Xander said mildly, though I wasn’t fooled by the soft tone. His eyes showed a glint of madness that I was starting to recognize a little too well. “Don’t look at her that way again. In fact, don’t look at her at all.”
My back was stiff, hoping no one else read into his possessiveness.
“You okay?” Kai asked him on cue.
“Yes,” Xander replied but didn’t elaborate.
Kai pursed his lips.
Anyone with eyes could tell something was up with how Xander ogled me, and by now, Kai had probably worked out that I was his stepmom. The territorial behavior concerned him. It was written on his face and in his silent exchanges with Xander.
One of his other teammates, who was introduced to me as Hunter, also appeared troubled by Xander’s spurts of jealousy. With his chiseled face and intense expression, Hunter looked like Xander except with lighter hair and eyes. “Are you sure, man? You’re acting a little…” he trailed off.
Kai opened and closed his mouth as if wanting to loop in the rest of the guys.
Xander caught the drift, his eyes darkening with churning thoughts, and took charge. “Just so everyone’s on the same page, Jordan used to be with my father,” he clarified, carefully omitting I was his stepmother. Being with his father was a lot simpler than being married to the man. He added, “But I made her leave Henry after he hit her.”
A buzzing pause made me realize the jukebox had fallen silent. Humiliation had me glancing away, unable to meet their pitiful gazes. How could he announce my private business this callously?
“She’s staying with me. I plan to protect her from that asshole, and I don’t want anyone looking at her or making her feel uncomfortable. Any questions?”
I expected an outcry following his bold declarations. Perhaps a few follow-up questions, too.
What happened?
Are you sure you want to interfere in your father’s personal business?
How will it look to the press, meddling in your father’s love life?
She isn’t worth the trouble.
To my surprise, the men returned to their bar nuts and draft beer.
Perhaps his insensitive declaration would work out for the best. These guys may assume Xander was being territorial to protect a battered woman.
Finally, Logan, one of his teammates who reminded me of a 90s surfer with his tousled dirty blond hair and slightly chipped grin, broke the uncomfortable silence. “My dad was an asshole like that. Got away with laying hands on my mom for fifteen years. The thing that finally sent him to jail was a fatal hit-and-run. Otherwise, he’d still be making her life hell.”
Xander gave a tight, sympathetic nod. “My father’s no different. He thinks no one will stand up for Jordan, and she’ll go back to him after he put his hands on her.”
“You can’t,” Logan blurted before he could catch himself. “You can’t go back to him, Jordan.”
The ominous warning in his voice had my heart doing somersaults. Logan glanced at me with a pleading look—if I wasn’t mistaken. There was a hint of uncertainty about whether approaching the topic was appropriate, given we had known each other for less than an hour.
“I know how abusers work.” He lowered his voice sympathetically. “First, he’ll apologize and say he’ll never do it again. Then he’ll treat you real nice for a while with flowers and dinners. But make no mistake, he will send you to the hospital before the month is up. If he hits you once and you still go back to him, it’ll start a new wave of violence. Because now he knows that he can get away with it.”
Xander watched me closely during Logan’s passionate plea, but he needn’t worry. “I don’t intend to return to Henry, ever,” I said plainly and watched Logan blow out a relieved sigh. As if the cheating wasn’t bad enough, domestic violence and putting his ex-wife through hell sealed the deal. I finally saw Henry for what he was—a scumbag. I had been docile in the past, but now, I was ready to fight Henry’s conservatorship tooth and nail. I wouldn’t even let a court mandate drag me back to that man.
“He refuses to accept it,” Xander cut in. “He has been messaging me nonstop for two days. He thinks he can threaten me into sending her back.”
I frowned. “He threatened you? You didn’t tell me that.” I hadn’t realized Henry had been harassing Xander, though I wasn’t surprised to hear it.
Xander didn’t acknowledge the question.
“Threaten you with what?” Logan asked.
“Knowing Henry, he’ll probably go to the press and bad-mouth me. It’s his usual MO.”
“If he does, we’ll back you up,” Logan insisted. “All of us can vouch for your character.”
“That’s right. No one will believe him,” Amos chimed in.
Amos had a point. If today was any indication, Xander was a star athlete, beloved by everyone—fans, teammates, his coach. Henry might be conniving, but I was starting to suspect Xander had surpassed his reach.
Had this been Xander’s plan all along—to take Henry on after he was positive he wouldn’t lose?
Another player, Ezra, saluted with his beer, his shaved head looking like a sheen of polished wood. “We have access to the press, too. If your father goes to them, we’ll let out the truth. We’ll give him a PR war if that’s what he wants.”
“No matter what, you can’t let him near her again,” Logan insisted. He dropped his voice and leaned over for Xander’s benefit, but I heard him clearly. “Women who’re murdered in domestic abuse cases are almost always killed after they leave.”
The catastrophic words settled in my chest like ice. Logan was right. I read about women in abusive relationships who ended up dead. Their fate befell them upon leaving. Something about abusers being unable to handle rejection, and I knew Henry was no different.
Xander tensed. “I’d rather fight him for the rest of my life than give her back,” he spoke with such determination that I gaped at him, unsure what to say.
At that moment, Xander appeared much older than twenty-two. A lifetime of defending his mother and brother from his father’s wrath had shaped him into the role of a protector. It had aged him, unfairly so. No one should shoulder that much responsibility from such a young age.
“And we’ll have your back if you do,” Noah joined in. With blond hair, green eyes, and freckled, reddish forearms, the team’s goalie looked a little like a stern young farmer. He was the quietest in the bunch, so I was surprised when he spoke up in solidarity.
The rest of his teammates echoed the sentiment, raising their drinks in a toast.
“He’ll have to go through us.”
“We got you, man.”
Apart from Kai’s quiet skepticism, none of them seemed particularly uncertain about taking Henry on.
These guys didn’t know me. Why were they going to bat for me? Surely, they knew Xander’s father was powerful, and the team might face backlash for his actions. Why would they offer to endure potential public scrutiny on my behalf?
I stared at them, dumbfounded by my new reality where my celebrity stepson declared he’d go to war for me, and his teammates decided to tag along for the ride. They had to know there was more to the story, yet no one pressed the topic.
God, what a mess, I thought.
We reached a lull in the conversation, and soon, everyone returned to the easygoing vibes. Kai and Logan took to the jukebox, arguing over songs. Based on the silence in the bar, neither one of them had won yet, much to my amusement.
The bar had filled out since the team’s arrival. I had expected it to be packed with flannel-wearing hockey fans and hipster college students. I was a little surprised to find people who looked closer to my age. It reminded me of the places I used to frequent before everything became about finding the next hotspot and who had a feature in Vanity Fair.
It was almost possible to let down my guard in such easy surroundings, and I might have done so were it not for the imposing man beside me. I could only breathe after Xander excused himself to grab us another round of drinks. When his teammates joined him at the bar to do the same, I closed my eyes and took a proper breath.
My meditative state was broken by a rough voice.
“What are you doing here?”