Van
As I drive home from the arena, I take stock of my emotions. Truly, I thought I’d feel different following my first game back. I skated on the third line against the Columbus Hawks and had a decent game, considering I’ve been out of professional play for three years. My conditioning held up and fueled by adrenaline, I wasn’t as rusty as I thought I’d be. The win felt fucking good.
It’s just… once I walked out of the locker room and left that all behind, the emptiness returned. Of course, I also felt empty walking into the arena and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out I’m mourning the loss of Simone and the game only took my mind off things temporarily. Granted, I’m the one who cut her loose, but it doesn’t mean it’s not without effect.
I declined invites to join the team over at their postgame hangout place called Mario’s. Despite assurances and support from the owner, team management, coaches and players, I’m too on edge over Arco’s book to open myself up to anyone. I dread the inevitable questions and the risk of reporters chasing me into a bar is too real. I don’t want to fucking deal with it and besides, I’ve never been a big people person, anyway.
At least not before Simone came into my life and now that she’s gone, it took no time at all for me to regress to my surly, walled-off self. Self-preservation and being alone—this is where I feel safest.
Fucking Arco.
I’ve never felt actual hate toward a single person, but I feel it pulsing throughout me every time I think about him. If he weren’t dead already and I could get away with it, I’d murder him in cold blood without a single ding to my conscience. He was pure evil, a sociopath who thrived on not only raping and killing but on torturing his son after it was all said and done.
I visited Arco three years ago—ironically after Simone and I had been intimate for the first time. He had lung cancer and was dying. I was a glutton for punishment, so I went to see him. Not because I loved him and not because I needed to make my peace with all the heinous things he’d done.
I needed to know if I was anything like him. Three days after he was convicted and sent to prison, my mother killed herself. She couldn’t handle the truth and took a handful of pills, knowing I’d be the one to find her body. It was my aunt, Etta Turner, who whisked me away to California, changed my name from Grant VanBuskirk to Van Turner, and helped me start fresh. I grew up away from the spotlight, hidden behind a new name and a new mom.
But I never forgot my dad or the horrific things he did to women. And I knew all the gory details since my mom forced me to sit through his entire trial at the tender age of eight. I never stopped wondering if I was anything like him since his DNA gave me his physical features. We looked a lot alike, and I was terrified my insides matched his.
That visit confirmed we were nothing alike. He was a self-centered, cruel narcissist who tried to torture me emotionally during that very short visit. I left with all my questions answered and wiped my hands clean of him.
Of course, Arco wasn’t done with me. He spilled my true identity to an independent reporter who wrote a hack piece opining that I was probably as crazy as my sire. It nearly destroyed me that my shameful secret was revealed to the world and I almost lost Simone because I reacted badly to it. I tried to push her away and crawl back into my fortress of solitude. Luckily, I quickly realized my mistake and rectified it.
Fortunately, Simone is a forgiving woman who loves me to the depths of her soul.
Sucks that it’s not enough this time, because when that tell-all biography came out, it sealed my future. While I could reason with myself that with Arco dead all the sordid details of what he did and the interest in it would fade away, the fact that the biography hit the New York Times bestseller list ensured it would never go to the grave. I was always going to have to deal with it and if it was just me, fine… I’d deal.
But now it was going to follow Simone and haunt our children. The thought of my kids suffering the same abuse and bullying I did simply by being related to Arco was untenable. That book ensured I would never procreate and put anyone else in harm’s way to suffer Arco’s sins.
I’d probably stay immersed in these wretched loops of painful memories if not jolted by the car parallel parked in front of my house. Normally, I’d drive right by, turn down the next street and loop into the back alley where my garage sits, but the green Vermont license plate catches my attention first, followed by the immediate recognition of Simone’s BMW.
My head swivels to see her sitting on my front stoop, the porch light illuminating her clearly. She doesn’t see me, head bowed over her cell phone. She has three pieces of luggage sitting beside her.
“Fuck,” I growl, slamming on the brakes and leaving rubber on the asphalt.
Her head pops up to lock eyes with me through the passenger window. There’s no mistaking the stiffening of her shoulders or the wariness in her expression. I’m sure she can see I’m pissed, but even as angry as I am she followed me here, I can’t say I’m surprised.
It was probably expected and I refuse to let myself admire her for it. Her tenacity and sheer bullheadedness are two of the reasons I was so attracted to her when we first met.
Shifting into reverse, I whip into the spot right behind her and exit my truck. I round the back end, cross over the sidewalk and come to stand at the base of the stairs.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snarl, hoping to scare her into submission. “And how the hell did you even find me?”
“Malik,” she says. Of course it would be Malik. He works for a company that can locate anyone in the world. Hell, they located him when he’d been kidnapped in Syria and held prisoner in a hole in the middle of the desert for months.
“You need to go,” I say, pointing back at her car.
“Nope.”
“Goddamn it, Simone. You’re not welcome here.”
“I’m married to you and any home you live in is considered marital property, so I’m allowed to be here as much as you are.”
That’s bullshit and she knows it.
“And what are you hoping to accomplish?” I ask, throwing my arms out in confusion. “Other than pissing me off.”
“I like pissing you off,” she says as she rises and dusts off the back of her jeans. “And I’m here to make you see reason. I’m getting you back.”
I scrub my hands over my face, at a loss for what to do or say.
“If you wanted to play professional hockey again, why didn’t you just tell me?” Simone asks softly, and I’m knocked off-kilter by that question. “I would have supported you. I would have uprooted myself in a nanosecond to let you pursue that dream.”
Christ, I know she would and it’s why I love her so much. But I’m not about to tell her that. “I didn’t tell you because coming back into the league was my escape plan. I didn’t want you to follow me.”
Hurt flashes in her beautiful hazel eyes. “That’s cruel.”
“I told you before that I wasn’t a nice man and that I was going to hurt you one day.”
“I remember. And you did hurt me once and I forgave you for it. I’m going to forgive you for this as well. Just out of curiosity, how long had you been planning this escape from me back into the league?”
“The day the book came out,” I admit truthfully. When a reporter called to ask me about it, and I realized what was happening, I called my agent that very same day. I knew right then that I would never drag kids through this and I’d have to cut Simone loose so she could live her dreams.
Simone crosses her arms over her chest. “You should have just left that day, then. It would’ve been a lot easier.”
“I know,” I mutter. “I’m kicking myself.”
“A lot easier on me, you asshole,” she barks, marching down the steps to come toe to toe with me. She has to tip her head back to see my face. “I don’t care if it’s hard on you. In fact, I don’t believe it is hard on you. You don’t seem to give two shits that you’re ending our marriage. You don’t care that you’ve hurt me.”
My hand flies out so fast, she squeaks with fright. I grasp her around the back of her neck and pull her in closer. “Don’t ever say I don’t care about you. It’s because I care I’m doing this.”
That earns me a solid punch to my stomach and it hurts enough I release her. She steps in closer, pokes a finger in my chest. “You’re a moron and a coward. But that’s okay. You used to be that way once and I managed to turn you around. I’ll do it again.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking nuts, Simone,” I yell at her. “Why can’t you just accept this and be done with it?”
“Because I’m not a quitter,” she seethes. “I’m back in your life and I’m going to do whatever I can to get your head out of your ass.”
“F-u-u-u-c-k!” I bellow, clasping my hands on top of my head. I’m so pissed I think it might explode. I take in her resolute stare and cannot even deal with her. I brush past her, jogging up the steps with my keys in hand.
She follows behind me and when we reach the top, I spin and put my hand out to stop her trajectory. It presses into her chest and I hold her at arm’s length. “I don’t want you here.”
“Too bad. I’m your wife and you love me.”
“I don’t want you anymore.”
“Liar,” she retorts.
She’s infuriating and so fucking stubborn that I have to resort to cruelty. “I don’t love you, Simone. Not enough to work this out.”
“Such a liar,” she says as she smacks my hand away and moves to the door. “Get my bags, will you?”
“No way. You are not staying here. Go to Malik’s house.”
Challenge and a devious glint spark in her eye and my pulse skitters with dread. Simone knows how to get her way. “What’s wrong, Van? Afraid of me? Afraid your resolve might not be that strong? That you can’t hold up against me? I toppled you once and it wasn’t that hard.”
Okay, now that just affronts me on a competitive level. It’s true that Simone was like a dog with a bone when she came after me before, but she has no clue the level of sincerity or deep belief I have that I’m doing the right thing.
I don’t take the bait. Instead, I say, “I’m giving you about thirty seconds to clear off my porch or I’m calling the police to say you’re trespassing.”
“You call the police and I’m calling every news agency in Pittsburgh to have them record the police removing me from my own home. I’m sure they’re going to love hearing the entire story of how you’re abandoning me because of some stupid book.”
Rage flashes hot through me from my complete loss of control. I wouldn’t put it past Simone to do just such a thing.
My mind spins. The woman is absolutely too fucking tenacious. When she set her sights on me, she poked at me over and over again, impervious to my insults to get her to back away.
Simone knew no bounds and had no shame. She moved in without an invitation to the house I was sharing with her brother, Lucas, and immediately decided she wanted me. Provocation was her game and she stepped over boundaries whenever she felt like it.
Once she came into my bedroom.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I snarled.
She pursed those utterly kissable lips. “Just trying to get to know you. You make it kind of hard, you know.”
“I don’t want to know you. I’m a temporary roommate to your brother. You’re just a houseguest.”
She pouted and I had a million dirty fantasies about that mouth. “Now that just hurts my feelings.”
“Apparently not enough to drive you out of my room, though,” I snapped.
“Come on, Van.” She tried for a begging tone, but I could tell that woman begged for nothing. “Give me a shot. I make a fun friend, and if you’re interested in a benefits package with that friendship, I’m fucking dynamite in the sack.”
I was stunned stupid. “You did not just say that to me.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Why not? It’s the twenty-first century. Believe it or not, women have a firm grip on their sexuality. Some of us even—and don’t get too bent out of shape about this—actually like to have sex.”
I felt like I was in a bad dream, unable to come up with a good comeback, and on top of that, my dick twitched.
“I really, really like to have sex,” she added. “And you look like you’d be fantastic at it. I mean… I’m fantastic. I’m also quite bendy in bed. My flexibility is—”
My dick more than twitched, it started to swell and I bolted from my room. Six foot six of solid muscle and meanness out on the ice and I was running from her.
The more Simone rattled me, the harder she came at me. The harder she came at me, the easier I wore down until she provoked me into action. Forced me to acknowledge the boiling lust for her and I took what she offered.
That changed the entire trajectory of my life. Led me to my greatest love.
And now, my greatest loss.
I cannot go back there again. It was too hard walking away from her last week.
But it’s suddenly clear to me what I need to do. Telling her to leave and spewing lies that I don’t love her will not do the trick. They’ll just make her double down.
No… I need to do something different. Something that will frustrate her to no end and will have her running sooner rather than later.
I’m going to ignore her.
Turning my back, I unlock the door and enter my house. She scrambles in after me, assuredly afraid I’ll try to lock her out.
I don’t. Merely toss my keys on the small table by the door and disable the alarm at the wall panel. I unbutton my suit jacket. I hadn’t bothered with an overcoat because the short walk through the players’ lot in the arena garage didn’t warrant it.
“What are you doing?” she asks hesitantly, but I don’t look back at her.
“Going to bed,” I reply as I move through the living room.
“Aren’t you going to help me with my bags?”
“Nope.” I stop at the edge of the hallway that leads to the first-floor master. I jerk my head to the staircase. “There’s a guest room up there.”
“You want me to sleep in the guest room?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you do, Simone. But there are a few rules if you stay here.”
“What’s that?” she snaps, irritation written all over her beautiful face.
“Don’t come near me. Don’t talk to me.”
She scoffs because I can already tell she’s deviously brainstorming ways around that. “Is that all?”
“You’re a roommate. Nothing more. I expect you to have a care for this house and my personal property inside of it. As such, don’t you dare leave it without locking it tight and entering the alarm code.”
“Fine. Give me a key and the code.”
I shake my head, leveling her with a viciously triumphant smile. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“Then how do you expect me to come and go?” she asks.
“Not my problem. Preferably, you would just go, but if you’re going to pursue this stupid idea of brow-beating me into getting back with you, I don’t have to stick around. I plan on being out of this house as much as possible and you’ll just have to stay behind to make sure it’s safe.”
“I won’t be kept prisoner,” she says with confidence.
“You won’t risk someone stealing things that are important to me. You won’t risk someone stealing your stuff. So I’m guessing you’ll stay put.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know this is so childish.”
I lift a shoulder. “Just establishing clear lines. Stay on your side, okay?”
I can see she’s flummoxed and a thrill sweeps through me that I have the upper hand. She chews on her bottom lip, her gaze darting around, trying to figure out how to get back on top. I’ll let her stew on it in private.
Smiling to myself, I head into the master bedroom and lock the door behind me.