“I’m still shocked Dad’s not hosting at his house,” she says beside me, as she looks at the invitation on my phone.
“He didn’t last year either.”
She looks at me. “You went last year?”
“No, but I received the invitation.”
“Was it at the school?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Really?” She frowns deeply and looks back at the invitation. “And there’s no theme either. That’s so strange.”
“Maybe he got tired of themes.”
“I guess a lot can change in three years.” She purses her lips, still looking at it. “It says formal. I guess that’s good enough for him. I still can’t believe it’s not at home.”
“It’s that new state-of-the-art building they were working on before we left,” I say. “The one with the Olympic-sized pool.”
“I know which one.”
“He probably wants to show off.”
“He would.” She huffs out a laugh and hands me my phone. “His donation practically built the entire thing.”
“Yeah, well, it has your last name on it,” I say and look out the opposite window.
She sets a hand on my forearm and waits until I look at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I pull her to my side, so she doesn’t see the lie on my face.
Not that it matters. She knows I’m not okay. It’s going to take everything in me not to charge at him when I see him. Not because he screwed me over, but because of the horrifying things he did to Lyla. His obsession with her is really fucking with me. That may be hypocritical of me, considering, but we’re completely different. He’d rather kill her than let anyone else have her. I’d rather die than live in a world without her in it.
* * *
Lyla unpacks everything as soon as we’re settled in the suite. I usually leave my shit in the suitcase and only take out whatever I don’t want wrinkled, but even on a trip this short, she unpacks like she’s staying here for a month. She looks at me as she’s zipping her empty suitcase back up and setting it aside where it won’t be a disturbance.
“Do you want me to unpack your stuff?”
“Do you want to?” I’m amused by this, but the look on her face is so serious that I don’t want to laugh.
She narrows her eyes at me like she can hear my thoughts, and grabs my suitcase. They’re both carry-ons and it’s not like I brought a lot of shit, so it won’t take her long. I watch as she starts setting my things on the bed. I should be checking emails from my dad and responding to the latest one Lang sent. I asked him what my options were if I had proof that someone sabotaged the draft. I don’t know that I’ll get physical proof, but now that I know what happened, I need to know if I can use it. Depending on how things go down, I might. I don’t want to play for either coach, if they’re good friends of Jameson’s.
I don’t know if I can go back to playing at all because of my agreement with my father. He made it pretty fucking clear that I couldn’t get out of the contract once I signed it. I’m more concerned about what Lyla’s next move is. I’m assuming she’ll want to stay in Rhodes and do her two-year residency at the sports center. I’d rather she travel with me, but I can’t force her to quit. If I was going to force her to do anything, it would be to get back on the damn field and play professionally. She’s not open to that idea, though, so I guess she’ll go back there and do the two-year residency at Cooper’s center, and continue working with Wade whenever he’s in town. It doesn’t even bother me. I’m over it.
She’s going to be my wife, and they’ll have to accept that she’ll never be theirs. Not that there was ever a chance in hell that would’ve happened regardless, but having her officially puts all those worries aside. Rhodes is nice, but if I get back on the ice, between practice and games both at home and on the road, we’d never see each other. I’ll have to figure it out, but the thought of not seeing her every day doesn’t sit well with me. Away games are one thing, and even that’s going to suck, but I want to come home to her. Even if just to watch her do simple shit like this. I smile as she folds my underwear and puts it away in a drawer. She does the same to my t-shirt, and then hangs the suit I’ll be wearing next to the sexy, deep green silk dress she’s going to wear. I haven’t even seen it on her, and I already want to tear it off.
“This is very domestic of you.”
She glances over from the closet. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’ll be doing the laundry.”
“I don’t mind doing laundry.” I grin, stretching my legs and linking my fingers behind my head. Lyla’s eyes heat as they rake over me slowly. Fuck. I lower my arms and extend a hand to beckon her. “Come here.”
She closes the closet door, and moves until she's standing between my legs. Her hands rest on my shoulders as she straddles me. She feels so damn good in my arms. So perfect. I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to the fact that she's officially mine forever, but I look forward to showing her how much I love her every fucking day. She lifts her gaze from my chest, and I stare into those brown eyes that make me weak. The uncertainty in them kills me.
“I’m scared.” She closes them and sets her forehead against mine.
I sigh heavily and sit up, wrapping my arms around her. “I know, baby.”
