Because of his family? “Then tell me,” I plead, sitting up and wincing at the pain between my legs. “Talk to me about it. Help me understand. Give me another secret.”
When he looks over his shoulder, there’s something dark shadowing his features. “Why?” he questions blandly. “I’m just a man whore. What are my problems and feelings to you?”
His words slice into me, and I have nothing to say before he’s out the door and shutting it behind him.
I close my eyes and feel my lips waver into a watery frown. But no tears come, because I have none left to spill.
I know then that I messed up big time.
Because if this were something casual between us, I wouldn’t feel bad at all. I would have accepted what he’d given me and walked away from the rest.
But I don’t do that.
I can’t, I realize.
And it scares me on a whole new level.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Moskins
Ihave eightmissed calls and over twenty unanswered texts from Emaly after hanging up on her yesterday. Apparently, sending her a message on my way home from Winter’s apartment saying I was fine and needed time to myself wasn’t clear enough for her.
She’s always been the one to call me on my shit, but not even she could have calmed the hurricane inside me. If I had talked to her, I would have been a dickhead. Then I would have taken it out on her the way Winter did on me and felt guilty about it for the rest of the night.
I’d told Winter to use me, and that’s exactly what she did. She used and discarded me all at fucking once, like I was a balled-up napkin.
The only two times I’ve looked at my phone in the twenty-four hours since are first, when Jesse Clarkson told me I had to go to Coach Hoffman’s house for a team dinner today, and second, when Mikhail Yokav’s name appeared on the screen. It isn’t often I’m in direct communication with my father-in-law. Usually, he goes through his typical channels to get ahold of me when he needs it. To him, I’m a cockroach beneath his shoe. He wouldn’t dare try to crush me and ruin his Versace shoes—he’d let the exterminator do it for him.
So, I wasn’t about to let him go to voicemail as much as I was tempted to sulk alone in between all my other responsibilities.
His no-nonsense, “Meet me at my office tomorrow,” left no room for argument or interpretation before he gave me a time and hung up the phone.
Which is why I’m pulling up white-knuckled to Yokav Stadium and glaring at the large block lettering on top of the dome roof. They designed it to look identical to the Yokav complexes in Russia, which offers very little humble architecture to the area. It’s not fitting for Fairbanks’s city, which is designed in old brick buildings with Revolutionary War history, but I’m not surprised they were able to get the plans approved.
All it takes is a large check slid across a mahogany desk for anybody with authority in this town to smile and put a stamp of approval on government letterhead. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll see it again.
Yokav’s reputation for getting what he wants is notorious, which is why I soak in the victorious feeling every time he sees me and his daughter together. Because if there’s anything he wants less than a losing hockey season, it’s for me to have any claim over Emaly.
Because that meanshecan’t.
I’d rather be doing literally anything but this today. I typed and deleted at least three text messages to the unsaved number that I’ve already memorized as Winter’s. It took everything in me not to send something to her. To check in.
I’m not your responsibility, she’d told me. Then why the hell did I want to make her mine?
Fists clenching my keys, I walk to the building I’ve become familiar with over the past week. The security guards at the front entrance greet me with their usual smiles as they scan my badge and wave me through. I’ve made small talk with everybody I’ve met here for the sake of civility, even if I’d prefer keeping to myself. Being an asshole ninety-nine percent of the time takestoo much effort, so I’d like to think I sprinkle a little normalcy in when I can, despite what my teammates probably think.
How’d that niceness go for you yesterday, dickwad?an annoying voice in my head asks.
I can still picture Winter splayed out on the couch, blood caked onto her thighs, and tears glazing her eyes that made them look darker than normal. She gave me something she hadn’t given to anybody. I don’t know why she lied about her virginity, but I’m determined to find out.
When she’s ready.
Because if what happened between us yesterday proved anything, it’s that she’s not ready to be honest with herself. I refuse to regret what we did, because she wanted it. She wasn’t going to let me leave until she got it. And if being the person who could give her temporary peace is what I could offer her, I’m not going to guilt myself for it.
I just wish her words didn’t cut so goddamn deep. How often do I sacrifice myself for those around me? Emaly. Mikhail. The team.Her.I’ve lived a life of torment, and don’t want to see anybody else deal with the same problems. The look in her eyes, the pure destruction of her soul as she cried, broke me. It reminded me of everything I’ve gone through and have been determined to never experience again. It made me want to soak up her sadness and take it all away for good.
I did that forher. I let her use me. Take advantage of me. I let her have whatever she needed at that moment. And for fucking what? For her to take out the boxing gloves because she felt guilty for it? Because she was ashamed of who she decided to let fuck her?
