The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(24)
Eloise rolled over on her side, burrowing into the soft warmth of her duvet with the imported silk cover. Here comes the barrage of reasonable questions that seem completely unreasonable. “No. Yes. Sort of. No, I guess not.”
“Uh-oh, tell me what’s going on.” Sophie’s question rifled through the phone connection. El never could hide anything from this sister.
“There’s this guy… a player on the team.”
“You? Dating a professional hockey player? I don’t believe it.”
“We’re not dating, exactly,” Eloise said. “We’re not anything right now. He’s mad at me.”
“Go on, what’s his name?”
“Cole Fiorino. Oh, Soph, he’s so talented. He has a degree in philosophy; he plays guitar; he makes these fabulous coffee creations out of beans from all over the world. And he’s our top scorer and team captain, and OMG the most fabulous kisser. Well, maybe I’m not sure about that last part. It’s only happened once and as they say, once is luck and twice is skill.”
“You’ve kissed him? Cole Fiorino!” Sophia squealed. “He’s gorgeous. A pantie melter for sure.”
“Mm-hmm… and witty and funny and,” Eloise sighed. “bull-headed and delusional.”
“Ouch.” Eloise could almost see Sophie cringing through the phone. They should have opted for FaceTime. “Talk about crashing to earth. Have you been able to breathe yet after having that wind knocked out of you?”
“He thinks I don’t fight for my ideals. That I’m somehow less than I could be by ‘working for the man.’ It’s not wrong to be the best at your job, is it? I made a commitment to the Rochester Riot when I accepted the position. What kind of person would it make me if I allowed my personal feelings to interfere with my job performance?”
“No. You worked hard for that job. Isn’t he the best at his job too? From what you said…”
“Exactly. Yet he’s mad because I have to do what the boss tells me and accuses me of taking sides. I don’t agree with the boss, but what choice do I have? I’m against the ropes. My entire career could be imploded with just one bitchy phone call from Sheehan Murphy. I’d never work in PR again.”
“Well, I’m no one to talk, especially since things are messed up with Phil. But we all have choices, and I know what Mom would say.”
“Love is more important than work,” Eloise sighed, reciting the familiar quote. How she wished her mom were in bed with her right now. She’d cry and use her massive bosom as a fluffy pillow. “I wish life was that simple.”
“Me too,” Sophia agreed. “Thanks, El. Hope you can come home for a visit. I’ll call you back once I know the deets, love ya.”
“Love ya too, Soph.”
Eloise hung up and ditched her phone into the folds of the white lace duvet. Even though her linens were pure as the driven snow, she wasn’t. Eloise felt tainted. Brushed red with the anger of two men she hadn’t wanted to disappoint. As Sophie had said, she’d been strong for her sisters but at a deep personal cost. Sadly, she’d been in exactly the same predicament as Sophia, and was not proud of her solution all those years ago. If it hadn’t been for Miss Conway, the high school guidance counselor, Eloise shuddered to think where her life path would have taken her.
She’d stumbled home on foot after Trevor had left her unconscious under the bridge that night. By midsummer of that year, she knew something was wrong, having missed two periods all while suffering some intense morning nausea. Miss Conway understood and helped her take care of the situation. Eloise sympathized with Sophia completely. If Mom and Dad ever knew she’d had an abortion, she’d curl up and die of shame. Trevor never knew about it. And even if she’d been able to find him, he wouldn’t have cared.
He’d raped her.
Worse still, after the procedure, she’d contracted an infection and had to be put on antibiotics. It cleared up, but a few years later she came down with mono while at NYU. Her mom had come to New York for a whole semester to look after her. What Linda Robertson didn’t know was that the doctor discovered a problem with her uterus. The repeated infections had left scars and a bacterial condition. It wasn’t conclusive, but there was a chance she wouldn’t ever be blessed with kids. A fact that shattered her very soul. The prognosis became one more reason to bury herself in her studies and avoid relationships.
Because men, good men, wanted a family.
She desperately hoped Sophia’s test would come out negative because she wouldn’t wish the situation on her worst enemy, let alone one of the people she loved and admired most.
With a deep sigh, Eloise dragged herself out of bed and gazed out the window, sighing her regret so deeply a white steam of condensation formed on the cool glass. Snow still lay on the ground in most places, but the bitter chill of February had loosened its grip on the city of Rochester. Not everyone liked to jog in these conditions, but Eloise didn’t mind. She’d put a priority on keeping fit and stayed committed to her morning run year-round. It also helped to clear her mind when things were bothering her, and today was no exception.
Because a lot was bothering her.
She dressed and went down to street level, exiting the rear of the building. Inhaling the crisp air, she did a few stretches to warm up before breaking into a light jog. Her feet pounded a brisk rhythm on the partially clear pavement, wearing spiked winter cross-trainers she’d invested in at a high-end sports store. Her breath puffed out clouds of vapor in the chilly air and her arms pumped in tandem with her legs. She loved the sensation of blood and oxygen coursing through her veins. She did her best thinking while running, her mind and body in a peak state.