“Come on, pussy. Gimme ten more.”
“That’s…not…an insult,” I grit. “Vaginas…aren’t…weak.”
Davis laughs. “Man, my wife would love the shit outta you for saying that.”
Ever since I admitted I was training at a private gym, I haven’t suffered through a conditioning session alone. I didn’t really know it when I offered him up on a silver platter to Evie, but Davis has been the best handler imaginable.
I did predict him dancing a jig when I offered him the job.
Asshole danced like he’d just played the game of his life.
Fine. He wants ten more. I’ll give him twenty. “Have…my own…wife…who loves…me.”
It’s been a month since I woke up with her in my arms. A month since I last breathed the same air as her. A month since I saw my name inked into her skin.
And I’ve had a month to think about the revelations from that hotel room. I spend every night on my couch, asking myself an entirely new set of questions as I stare at the empty bed in the master suite.
She loves me, of that I have no doubt. But, how much? In what way?
I’m no longer alone with my infidelity. Why did she hate being with someone else? What did he do to her?
She still wants to be friends. If nothing else, she wants me to be a part of her life. Can I handle that? Can I do better than that? Can I finally reach my goal of being someone who means something, who is a force for good in her life?
I don’t have all the answers, but one thing I know for certain.
I only have eight months.
Failure is not an option.
After he sets the bar in the holder, Davis hands me a towel. “You know, I’ve been schooling rookies for years not to let a woman control them in any way. I was usually talking about jersey chasers, who would promise guys the moon, then take them for a ride and bleed them for money or favors. Or, the always popular, ‘Wrap it up, son. You don’t want to be spending your bonus checks on child support.’ I never thought I’d see the day a rookie with as much promise as you fucked his own shit up with his wife and lost a whole damn season over it.”
I gulp from my water bottle so I don’t answer too quickly or too harshly. I’m not sure how to respond to that anyway. “Your concern is touching.”
He laughs, not offended at all. “I’m glad you got your head on straight, is all I’m saying.”
“I didn’t, actually,” I confess. “She refused to let me wallow in my shit anymore. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably still be drunk and laying on my couch.”
“I know.” He chuckles. “I’ve had conversations with her about it. She has my number, remember? Khadijah is dying to meet her. When is Mrs. Falls moving out here, anyway?”
I will never not see that name permanently etched into her skin when someone addresses her that way, now. “Uh, she’s not. She has a life in New York. A job, friends close by…”
Davis casts me a weird look as he steps onto the treadmill so we can cool down. “So, what? You’re just gonna let your wife live across the country and only see her for a few weeks during the off-season, and she’ll fly in for games? Man, I thought you two reconciled?”
“I said we talked.” I step onto the elliptical beside him. “You don’t know Evie. I don’t let her do anything. She does what she wants, and she wants to stay where she is.”
I can’t exactly ask her to leave New York. Friends don’t make cross country moves for each other. Do they?
He shakes his head. “That would not fly with me. My wife, my home, my rules.”
“Davis, you might be wise about a lot of shit, but you are dead wrong on that.”
Instead of starting an argument, he laughs at me when I hop off the machine to answer my phone ringing across the room. He knows damn well that’s the song I have assigned to Evie because it reminds me of her.
And I made fun of Jeremy way back in high school for the same thing…
It’s weird for her to be calling me in the morning—early afternoon, her time—especially since we touched base last night, but maybe this is all part of the still being friends thing.
“Hey, baby. What’s up?” I wince, waiting for her to call me out on my slip up. My brain still hasn’t caught on to our new platonic-only relationship.
“Rob.” Her voice comes out stilted, panting almost. There’s a distinct rhythmic thudding in the background. “He’s here.”
My heart pounds harder than it did during the most intense phase of my workout, and in spite of the sweat clinging to my skin, goosebumps race across my arms. “Who, Evie? Who’s there?”
“Jackson.”
She’s running. That sound I hear is her running.
“Where are you?” I’m in motion, too. Gotta get my keys out of my locker, need to get to the airport. Fuck, I’m six hours away by plane…
“I stepped out of the gallery to get lunch, and I thought I saw him across the street. But, that’s crazy, right? I’m crazy. He wouldn’t come after me again. Not after spending five years in prison.” Her words rush out in an avalanche. Between the pounding of my own pulse and the constant panting of her breath, it’s hard to make everything out. “It had to be someone who only resembled him. But, then he followed me. I turned a corner; he turned a corner. I went into the deli I sometimes get a sandwich from. He followed me in, but stayed in the back and didn’t approach the counter to order anything.”
There are millions of people in New York City, so she isn’t alone. “Baby, where are you? Why are you running? You need to stay out in the open; stick to public spaces where someone can help you.”
“There’s no one else at the gallery today. Alyssa and Jeremy are still on their honeymoon. I can’t go back there. I’m heading to my apartment.”
“No!” I practically scream. “Don’t go there! Go to the police!”
If he tracked her to New York, he’ll have her address, too. He’ll wait until she’s alone, and…
“I’ll fight again, Rob. Let him come. I don’t want this hanging over my head anymore. I’m tired of being afraid. I just wanted to call and tell you I love you so much and I’m sorry for everything, just in case.”
“No,” I bite out as I push through the doors of the gym into the blinding sunshine. “No just in case. Do not go to your apartment. Go to the nearest police station. Stay where people can see you. I’m on my way.”
I’m not close enough.
Goddammit, I can’t do a thing.
“I know I didn’t tell you often, but my sun rises and sets on you, Superjock. I was happy to be your wife, and I would’ve said yes to that deal a million times under any circumstance, even if it meant getting to be Mrs. Falls for only a day. I love you.”
The lines goes dead and a piece of me goes with her.
Always.
I don’t have time to fall to my knees, tear my hair out, and scream to the heavens. My feet pound against the blacktop parking lot, every footfall closer to my car, to the airport, to her.
A hand stops me from wrenching the driver’s side door open, and it’s not until then my focus clears enough to realize Davis has been tailing me the whole time.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Evie’s stalker tracked her to New York. I gotta go…”
Davis physically pries me away from my car. “You’ll never make it to her if you wrap that Mustang of yours around a pole.”
Like he can keep me. Already, rage is setting in. My muscles are trembling, sweat trickling down my back, my heart pumping vengeance through my veins.
He nods to his car next to mine. “Get in. I’ll take you to the airport. While I drive, you call the police, then your agent. Get on a private jet. It’s faster and no one will know where you’re going or why.”
“Thank you.” It’s a great idea. Evie’s not thinking clearly, which means I have to think smart enough for the both of us from the opposite side of the country.
How is it possible to outsmart a deranged man?
Déjà vu.
I’m so sick of this fucking feeling.
Like I’ve been here before. Gone through these same motions before.
Uttered the same words. “I’m looking for my wife.”
In a daze, I follow the directions given to me. More like the officers who met me at the airport herd me in the appropriate direction.
I can still hear the cop’s explanation when I landed, playing on repeat in my mind. “An escort is waiting to take you to the hospital. Mrs. Falls has been admitted…charges pending…victim has been taken to the same location.”
I vaguely registered a common husband might not be given that much information, in spite of being denied the identity of the supposed victim and Evie’s condition. A computer engineer wouldn’t have a police cruiser to ferry him to his wife after landing at a private air strip on Long Island.
Being an NFL quarterback might get me special treatment and the money to circumvent commercial air travel, but it gives me zero control.
Only one other time in my life have I felt so powerless.
This time, there won’t be any scenes to replay in my nightmares.
Jackson came for her. And I wasn’t here.
We reach a waiting room on some upper floor I didn’t really pay attention to the number or description of.
At least it’s not the ER or the morgue.
Security seems tighter up here, and the waiting room is empty.
Except for two familiar faces.
They rise from their chairs as I approach.
Mike’s face is red. Alex seems generally pissed off at the world. They both look as exhausted and frustrated as I feel.
Did I call Alex? I barely remember calling Mike.
I definitely remember getting his voice mail, repeatedly.
“How is she?” My voice feels raw and unused. Maybe that’s because every time I’ve spoken, I’ve either been ignored or brushed off.
Alex shakes his head, his expression grim. “They have her on lockdown. We’re not allowed to see her.”
Lockdown? Lockdown. Too much information rushes back to me at once.
I glance at my surroundings with new awareness.
This is the psych ward.
They committed her for her own safety supposedly, but wouldn’t say why.
“Have the police given you any information yet? What did they do with Jackson?” I glance over my shoulder where my escorts are speaking quietly with each other, casting our trio suspicious squints every now and then.
Being watched in this way, like we’re potential criminals, is unnerving. This is decidedly different than the media scrutinizing our every move, or fans waiting to hound us around the most mundane spots like the parking garage.
“I gave them my statement already.” Mike sighs. “I told them I’m not pressing charges, but they’re not ready to release her.”
Frustration bubbles up inside my chest, unrestrainable after so many hours of terror, then only being fed the bare minimum of information. My question comes out louder than I can control, the sound echoing around the empty, almost desolate space. “Why would you press charges? What happened to Jackson?”
Alex puts a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to step out of Mike’s personal space. “She attacked Mike.”
A closer inspection of Mike provides some clues. His eyes are swollen. The expression I mistook for anger on his face is actually splotches of inflamed skin, with a few claw marks across his cheek. “Why did she attack you?”
I’m not sure whether to be horrified or proud.
He would know better than to sneak up on her. We all get why Evie can’t stand to be surprised, so if he made that mistake, his injuries are on him, not her.
Mike shakes his head like he doesn’t really want to tell me anything, before sighing and fessing up. “You called and told me to haul ass to her, so I did. Luckily, I was already in the city. I got to her place before the cops and used the key she gave me to get inside. I found her holed up in her bathtub, and when I pulled the curtain back, she Maced me. I was struggling to breathe, basically blind, and she fucking let me have it. I don’t know what she hit me with, but when I came to, the cops had already shown up and all hell was breaking loose.”
Mike all but collapses in his chair, so Alex picks up where he left off.
“They arrested Evie on assault charges because she was so out of control, they had to restrain her. That’s why they brought them both here. Mike to the ER for treatment, and Evie…to this floor to be sedated and monitored.”
I replay those last words in my mind over and over, but nothing adds up. “Why would they do that? It was a case of mistaken identity—self-defense. They told me it was for her own safety. I thought that meant the equivalent of hiding her from Jackson. Did they find him?”
Mike and Alex exchange a look that makes my stomach drop.
“There’s no proof he was ever here. They think she imagined the whole thing, got spooked, and snapped. Apparently, it’s pretty common with assault victims.” Alex delivers the blow.
Any emotion other than rage ceases to exist in my body.
I made the mistake of not believing her when she told me she wasn’t date raped by Eddie, that our problems in bed had nothing to do with the assault. I’ve made the same error enough times to know I never want to repeat it.
“You two think she deserves to be in there?” I thumb behind me to the door which leads to a place people can be held against their will for either mental illness they can’t help or because they’re deemed a danger to themselves and society.
I’ve never realized before how much it resembles a prison, cloaked in fake sympathy. The rough edges of uncomfortable topics are smoothed over with platitudes of wanting to help those interred behind that door, either with drugs to sedate them, as Alex mentioned, or therapy, like in Evie’s past, which never seems to really free anyone from their demons.
And maybe that’s the point we all miss.
No one can ever be truly free of the demons. We can only learn how to dance with them…and lead instead of follow.
I’m so fucking done with following, and Mike’s and Alex’s downcast gazes only firm up my resolve.
“Thanks for being here when I couldn’t, but you two can go.”
Alex’s angry blue eyes snap up to meet mine. “You don’t get to fucking dismiss us like dogs.”
I step up to him, barely restraining myself in front of the two police officers who would be witnesses to my intentional assault. “Do you or do you not think she deserves to be in a psych ward right now?”
A little of the anger drains from Alex’s expression, but it’s Mike who speaks up.
“She’s never gotten the help she needs, Rob. Today only proves it.”
I turn my anger on him. “Today only proves what a fucking survivor she is. There is nothing crazy or off about self-preservation. That is a natural human instinct. She detected a threat, she faced it, and she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.”
“He wasn’t here, Rob. She only thinks he was.”
I study Alex with a different perspective. If I’m honest with myself, knowing he fell in love with Evie right under my nose bothers me a hell of a lot more than our broken friendship.
At one point, I would’ve sent Evie straight into his arms just to see her happy with a man I used to trust enough to do right by her.
As much as I beat myself up over all my shortcomings, an almost brutal epiphany takes root in my brain.
I love that woman more than anyone else ever could.
“Neither of you have bothered to prove he wasn’t here. You’re assuming Evie imagined it. I can see it by the looks in your eyes. So, yes. I’m dismissing you because you clearly don’t have her best interest in mind.” I turn my back on them, raising my voice enough for the officers to hear me. “I’m taking my wife home where she’ll be safe and loved…and believed.”