Down and Dirty (Hot Jocks #5)(53)

Aubree’s here.

I guess I’m not the only one who knows his way around a gas pedal.

She approaches slowly, like she’s struggling to get her legs to work. I know the feeling well, because I’m struggling to make my lungs work. A shaky inhale is the best I’ve got.

“Why are you here?”

“We need to talk. Please let me explain,” she begs.

I lean one hip against the kitchen counter, watching her. She’s visibly upset. Her hands are trembling at her sides, and her mouth is pressed into a firm line.

“Congratulations on the promotion,” I say, my voice devoid of emotion.

She makes a small sound and shoves her hands in her hair. “Landon, please.”

“David seems nice. And Vancouver is, well . . .” I pause, scratching my temple. “I really don’t fucking care, to be honest.”

A single tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice is pained, and I don’t bother hiding it.

She swallows and wipes away the tear with her thumb. “Because I had no idea what we were or if we’d even work. Because I needed more time. Because I was scared. Because I thought if I—”

“How long have you known?”

She pauses for a second to compose herself. “I was offered the job right after we got back from Vegas.”

“That’s perfect. You never took this marriage seriously, never took me seriously. You never gave me a shot like you said you would.”

“I did, Landon. I was.”

“But it doesn’t matter now.”

She takes a step closer, and I force my gaze away. I can’t look at her right now.

Her words come out in a whisper. “What can I say? What can I do?”

“Tell me the truth,” I say, my eyes narrowing on hers.

She licks her lips, thinking. “I thought if I never gave you my heart, I could never get hurt. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“That’s just perfect.” Sarcasm drips from my tone.

“Are you mad?” she whispers, taking another hesitant step toward me.

“Oh, I’m fantastic.” The words are a bitter lie I force from my throat. I’m broken. Destroyed. I gave this marriage everything I had, and it still wasn’t enough. “It’s better that I know all this now.”

“Landon,” she says, but I hold up one hand.

“Just go. I don’t want you here,” I say, my voice raspy but firm. I don’t look up, but a few seconds later, I hear her footsteps retreat and then the sound of the front door clicking shut.

Then I grab my phone from the counter and hurl it at the far wall, where it shatters with a loud, satisfying crack.





19




* * *





Kicked in the Balls





Landon



The following morning, I blink against the sunlight and grab my phone from the bedside table where it’s ringing. I fumble to answer it, ignoring the shattered screen.

“Hello?”

Coach Dodd’s voice booms through the speaker. “I’ve got some good news for you, kid.”

“Yeah?” I say, rubbing one hand over my face. I was kind of hoping yesterday had just been a dream. Sadly, it wasn’t, and now I have to deal with the consequences of whatever’s about to come next.

“How does Vancouver sound to you?”

Is this some kind of joke? “Excuse me?”

“They came through for you, kid. The coach is a friend of mine, and he knows how hard you’ve worked to get where you are. He’s not just taking you as a favor to me or anything like that, I want you to know that. You’ve earned a spot there.”

But Vancouver? I think. What are the chances?

They’re an expansion team that opened up two years ago. I don’t know much about their coaching staff, but the Vancouver Rebels are highly regarded. They’re good. Good enough to make it to the playoffs last year.

Dodd goes on about how they’re a solid team, that they play well together and have some of the more experienced players in the league. Which is why they’re looking to round out their lines with some younger, up-and-coming talent—a.k.a. me.

“Wow. I’m . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you have time to figure that out. I’m sure the press will want some kind of statement, but in the meantime, I’m sending you an email with the details and copying your new coach, Bill Montgomery. Monty is an old college drinking buddy of mine. He’s all bark, no bite. Don’t worry, kid.”

“Thanks for everything, Coach.”

“You bet.”

We end the call, and I force myself out of bed and into the shower. By the time I’m toweling off, my phone is ringing again.

It’s Owen.

“Shit, man. Canada? Really?”

This is all so confusing. But then I glance at the TV and realize he has to be talking about my move and not Aubree’s, since there’s a scrolling bar on the sports channel announcing moves, and my name is one of them. Plus, I doubt he even knows about Aubree’s promotion.

“Yeah, I know. Crazy, huh?”

“I’m not sure if I should be happy for you or pissed off, quite frankly.”