Glancing toward Ida Jane, I wondered if she wanted to be here in this room because ofmeor the novelty of being around professional athletes.
Her eyes were bright with interest, her cheeks still flushed. She must have felt my attention because she looked up, her expression open and friendly. Her lips curved upward even as she slid closer to me, seeking my presence to ground her. Such a gentle little thing—so different from the tiny Valkyrie she’d been, standing over the ridiculous, selfish excuse for a man.
I sobered, remembering another man like Dillon. The outcome hadn’t been so positive for the woman—Nadia—in that story. I shut my eyes and inhaled, not ready for the wave of grief that slammed into my chest.
I rubbed at my sternum, knowing the ache would dull eventually. I returned my attention to Ida Jane, hopeful she’d ease it more quickly.
This small woman intrigued me, and I wanted to get to know her better. Ida Jane repositioned the ice on her hand, wincing as the cold hit the inflammation in her delicate skin.
Her bespectacled friend—Mildred or whatever her name was—gasped. “What happened?”
Ida grimaced. “I punched Dillon.” Her lips compressed, but her eyes sparkled when she added, “Threetimes.”
Millie—thatwas her name—gasped, her eyes even wider behind the thick lenses of her glasses. “That’s been a long time in coming. Tell me everything.”
She did, and my lip curled in disgust at hearing just what the asshat had propositioned Ida Jane with. What ajokeof a man. Clearly, he knew how to use his dick and mouth, but not his brain or eyes. Too fucking lazy to provide for his woman or child.
Each thought wormed through my mind, stoking my anger, which always simmered under my skin. Who treated a woman—anyperson—like that? Again, the sadness dealt me a blow as I remembered my sister, Nadia.
“I want your number,” I said, surprising us both. “So I know you get home okay,” I added, not wanting to come across as a creeper.
Not because I planned to call her.Soon.
No. I wasn’t looking for a woman. I didn’t want a woman. Women were a distraction—they took my focus from the game. I couldn’t lose focus, couldn’t forget how easy it was to fall back into poverty, to lose choices…to lose those I loved because of that poverty.
“I’ll text you. And you can text me if that man bothers you again.”
Because she reminded me of Nadia. Because I refused to let another woman be hurt if I could help it.Notbecause I wanted to talk to her, to inhale the soft, clean scent of her hair.
I handed her my phone, and she grimaced as she grabbed it. I frowned, not liking the idea of her hurt, but she waved off my concern. She typed in her contact information. Her cheeks reddened as she handed it back with a little look from under her lashes.
Dammit. That flirty but shy look hit me in the chest with even more power than the bright, sparkly happiness that had flashed across her face earlier. This woman was fucking with me, and she didn’t seem to know it.
Worse, I didn’t want her to. I couldn’t give her what she wanted, what she deserved. I’d dedicated my life to my sport.
“You’re a good man, Maxim,” she said. The thick honey of her tone coated my skin, but the words grated, causing me to fidget again. I was not, in fact, good. Hell, I wasn’t even decent, and if Ida Jane knew what was good for her, she’d run from me even faster than she had from Dillon.
* * *
Millie insistedon taking Ida Jane to Urgent Care after she grimaced the third time. I hadn’t had a chance to get her a drink or a plate of food. I kicked myself, wishing I’d thought of that myself. Once the ladies said their goodbyes, I slunk into a corner to brood.
Cruz came over, leaned against the wall next to me. We got on well, Cruz and me. He had befriended me right from the get-go when I’d lived in the condo that Stol owned next door to his.
“Though she be but little she is fierce,” he said.
I tipped my head back, trying to place the quote. “Midsummer Night’s Dream. One of the chicks in the forest,” I said.
He offered his fist to bump. “All those nights at Shakespeare in the Park paid off.”
“Looking forward to this summer’s season. I bought our tickets.”
“Right on.” He leaned against the wall, getting more comfortable. We tended to be watchers, he and I. We’d step in if needed, but mostly we simply oversaw our teammates and their partners.
We came from very different backgrounds but ended up with the same drive to protect.
“You think he’s going to leave her alone?” Cruz asked.
Ida Jane Barlow had been magnificent while standing up to her douchebag ex, but she’d also been much smaller than him…and about to lose if we hadn’t stepped in. I hadn’t liked the glint in the guy’s eye, and I didn’t trust him to stay away.
