Another Goal, page 19
“That I had to leave because of bed rest,” she replied.
“Which you were doing to keep our baby safe,” I countered.
“I don’t know that I want her to be an heiress, Luka. That kind of money…it’s evil.”
Staring up at the ceiling, I tried to tease apart her words and her fears. “I don’t think the money’s evil,” I said into the long silence. “I think your father did evil things with it.” Like hide the fact that it was actually hers. Like force her toward a man who wanted the money, but not her.
“Well, I don’t like what he did to me, but also to the companies he’s bought and broken apart.”
“No, I don’t like that either.”
“I’m scared I’ll have to fight him for it. In court.”
That was a given. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
She seemed to absorb that. “Thank you.” Her voice broke. “You make this bearable—knowing we’re a team. But Luka?”
“Yeah?”
She paused, and I heard her shaky exhale. “I’m still afraid.”
I squeezed my hand into a fist, not unlike the one clamping my heart in my chest. “And I wish I was there to hold you.”
“You can’t be here, not when you’re needed in Detroit. Sorry. I should have asked you sooner. How’s Alyssa?”
Her voice was stronger. Millie liked to be the caregiver instead of the recipient. That was something she and I would have to deal with. I couldn’t offer her much, but I was damn well going to take the best care of her I could.
I blew out a long breath. “She called me son.”
Millie sniffled. “I’m glad you had her in your life.”
Luka
Alyssa passed away soon after I returned to her hospital room. While it was peaceful—a soft sigh before the blaring of machines—Mikey shocked me. We cried and held Alyssa’s hands after the hospital staff disconnected her from the monitors.
He was her son by birth and blood—I was the boy she’d taken in and who’d never felt good enough to fully accept her love.
“I’m gonna have her cremated,” he said, staring at me with bleary eyes. “She wanted that.”
“Okay.”
“And she didn’t want a funeral, but we’re gonna have a party at her place this summer, after the season. I gotta get back—Coach is breathing down my neck.”
I nodded. “That’s because they need your pitching arm.”
His smile was short and sweet—cocky as hell. I’d missed it.
“You know it. But now I gotta go out and throw those pitches, knowing my mom’s never going to see another one of my games.”
With that, he broke down in my arms. I held him up, and I held him tightly. Just as he’d held me during those years when my parents proved again and again and again that I didn’t matter.
Once the storm passed, I gave him the moment to gather himself.
“I…”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” I said.
“I wasn’t going to.” He swiped at his wet cheeks, his grin rueful. “I was going to say that you’re going to make a great dad, Luka. A fucking great one. I’m kind of jealous of your kid because she’s going to have such a good man in her corner.”
I choked up as I grabbed the back of his head and slammed his nose into my pec. He grumbled for a moment before sighing, letting his body go loose.
“I miss her,” I whispered. “Already.”
“Forever, man. There’ll be a hole where she was.” He groaned.
“I heard that’s the unexpressed love trying to get out.”
He tugged himself out of my embrace and narrowed his eyes. “That’s strangely poetic. Beautiful, man. Perfect. Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah. It’s just all the love I still have for her.” He clapped my shoulder. “You, too, right? You’re gonna mourn her, too?”
“Every day.”
He smiled and squeezed my shoulder. After a slow, deep breath, he tipped his head toward the door. “Guess we better get this over with. I need to be at the game tomorrow, and you need to get home to your girls.”
“What’s this about a woman and a baby?”
Every muscle in my body clenched as my mother waltzed into Alyssa’s hospital room, as pretty as you please. As if she had a right to my grief, my decisions…my life.
Luka
After I recovered from the initial shock, talking to my mother in the hospital cafeteria wasn’t the hellish experience I’d expected. In fact, I felt numb. Losing Alyssa and worrying over Millie had left me with none of my usual emotional energy to fret about my mom’s approval.
“Why didn’t you tell us about your girlfriend?” My mother’s lips compressed as if she were disappointed.
“I didn’t think you’d care.”
She reared back. “Of course I care that I’m a grandmother.”
I stared down into the sludge in my Styrofoam coffee cup. “You never cared about me.”
She clasped my hand. “Of course we did! We paid for all that hockey equipment and camps and—”
I extricated my hand from hers. “No, you didn’t. Alyssa raised most of those funds.” I met her eyes. “Why are you really here?”
“To see you—”
“And how did you know I was in Detroit?”
Her gaze slipped to the side, her cheeks reddening a bit.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Someone tipped you off. And now that I have money, you what? Want some of it?”
“We raised you—” Her voice was feeble.
“No, the woman I just cried over raised me. You birthed me, and I’m thankful, but we’re not a family. Alyssa, Bob, and Mike were my family.”
Mom straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I can’t help that your father never wanted to marry me. Make us a family.”
I dug deep, seeking patience when I really didn’t have fucks left to give. “Neither you nor my father cared much for each other, me, the sanctity of marriage, or anything related to stability.”
“We were free spirits.”
“You both had lots of affairs and forgot about your kid at home while you were out partying.”
“I deserved to live my life—”
I shook my head. We’d never agree on what her choices had done to me, so there was no point. I’d tried—again. Now I was done.
“Tell me about the woman who had your baby. Millicent?” Mom scrunched her nose like Millie’s old-fashioned name was something unpleasant.
I sucked in a breath as my mother’s reason for being here—how she knew where to find me—crystallized in my mind. “Who exactly told you I’d be here?”
She attempted nonchalance by picking at her thumbnail and refusing to meet my eyes. “What does that matter?”
“Who?” I kept my tone firm, my gaze unwavering.
“Trenton something.” She waved a hand. “He seems to think you’re shacking up with his fiancée.” Mom leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “Are you? Did you steal his bride?”
The numbness that had settled around me with Alyssa’s passing crumbled. My mother didn’t care about me; she wanted the story because she might make a few bucks selling it. Then she could get back to her life and the endless string of meaningless affairs that kept her from connecting with another person.
This woman had birthed me, but she’d also really fucked me up. For nearly twenty-five years, I’d thought her behavior was normal. Or that there was something wrong with me for wanting more—for wanting the closeness Alyssa and Bob had, the attention they’d showered on Mike and any other kid in the neighborhood who seemed to need it.
I’d told myself it didn’t matter, that I was happy skimming through life like my mother. Because it’s what I’d learned from her.
But then I’d met Millie. I’d looked into her beautiful eyes and seen a different future—one like Alyssa had with Bob, one I’d craved from the moment I’d seen them together.
I was building that now with Millie.
Or I would as soon as I returned to her, which needed to be soon, especially now that I knew that piece of shit Trent was keeping tabs. I rose from the plastic chair.
“Bye, Mom. Don’t look me up again.”
She gasped, outraged. “That’s no way to treat your own mother!”
“Ah, but you’ve told me often enough that you didn’t want to be one. Seems I got the message.”
Once I’d escaped my mother, I called and spoke to Cruz and Coach about the latest turn of events with Trent and my mother, and they both promised again that Millie wouldn’t be alone.
There was something so slimy about that man. Well, both Trent and Millie’s father. I couldn’t fathom what crazy plan they had concocted to keep all that money between them, but I knew I wouldn’t like it.
I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to tie up as many loose ends for Mike as possible and ended up racing to the airport, nearly missing my evening flight. I barely hauled my ass through security and made it to the gate before the last boarding call.
I settled into my business-class seat and tucked in my ear pods, planning to listen to another book on parenting, until I realized who’d appeared in the chair next to mine.
Speak of the devil himself.
Deciding it was better to ignore him than act on my impulse, I shut my eyes and turned up the volume to my audiobook.
I made it through takeoff and up to cruising altitude with his elbow bumping into my side. When he tapped my forearm, I continued to ignore him, but I turned off my audiobook as discreetly as possible. I didn’t want Trent to catch me unaware.
“I’m talking to you,” he finally yelled.
I cracked an eyelid, making sure the surrounding passengers were looking, then closed my eyes again.
“Don’t you dare pretend to ignore me,” he ranted.
“Sir, is there a problem?” The flight attendant was a young woman.
I frowned, not wanting her to get involved. My guess was Trent took what he wanted—without thinking through the consequences.
“This cretin is ignoring me,” Trent complained.
“He was sleeping,” the passenger across the aisle spoke up. An older man, probably in his fifties. He frowned in judgment at Trent.
“He’s not sleeping,” Trent snapped. “He’s ignoring me.”
“Which is his right,” the flight attendant said. “Why don’t you move up to seat—”
“I’m not moving,” Trent yelled. “I bought a seat specifically on this flight to explain to him that he’s not stealing my bride or my baby.”
The fuck was this douche running his mouth about?
Of course Bree was mine…wasn’t she?
No, no, she was. They both were. Trent is lying. He’d hurt Millie, manipulated her. And, yes, Millie had been scared, terrified, but there was no way she’d use me as a shield.
“Did she tell you we’d been together that same day? No, huh? We were working on our relationship. Getting back together. You ruined that and are trying to steal my kid, but I won’t let you.”
The mere idea of Trent touching Millie sickened me. His willingness to use her made me want to hurl. But the idea that Millie would have lied, even if it was to protect herself and the baby, infuriated me. How dare he throw her under the bus for his own purposes again?
Needing to stay on task—and the task was making sure I looked as innocent here as possible—I cleared my throat. “I’m pretty tired. I was up all night, dealing with a dear friend’s passing.”
Sympathy gathered on the flight attendant’s face, followed by determination. I noted that another flight attendant—a large man—had stepped into the aisle behind her. She looked at Trent. “I’m going to have to ask you to move, Mr. Cox.”
“No.”
“That’s no longer your choice,” she said. She bent down to look into his eyes. “If you don’t follow me, sir, I’ll have to alert the captain—”
Trent stood so quickly his shoulder slammed into the poor woman’s cheek. She reeled back into her colleague, her hand to her face. The man across the aisle gasped and flung the contents of his glass into Trent’s face. Trent sputtered, cursing, and lunged toward the man. But before Trent could reach him, the two flight attendants had Trent on the ground, hands zip-tied behind his back. About thirty phones were now pointed toward Trent, who was howling and kicking.
“Get off me! Get off!”
He spewed more garbage about me being nothing more than a meathead jock—a fool who didn’t understand the world, which apparently he thought revolved around him.
“Do you need some ice?” I asked the flight attendant.
She shook her head, her lips compressed. “No.”
“I’d be happy to find you something cold,” I told her.
She gave me an amused look. “Thanks. I know where they are. As soon as we get this guy subdued, I’ll consider it.”
She glanced at her colleague, who was dragging Trent by the legs toward the back of the plane. Trent kept twisting and screaming, especially when his head hit the metal chair legs or ran into passengers’ feet. Someone booed, and soon the entire two hundred people on board were chorusing the word together, drowning out Trent’s tirade.
The flight attendant returned her attention to me. “He’ll be restrained in the back. Law enforcement will meet us at the gate when we land. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you.”
I nodded. “Not that I’ll be much help, but yeah. I’m happy to comply.”
She nodded before trotting up to the front where she must have conferred with the pilots. A moment later, the speakers crackled. “Sorry about the disturbance, folks. Our people seem to have it under control, so we’ll continue on to our scheduled destination.”
The traveler across the aisle leaned over. He had finished wiping his hands on the small napkin that had arrived with his plastic cup.
“That guy was Trenton Cox—Chasten Jones’ right-hand man.” He grimaced. “What a douche.”
I nodded. “You know him?”
“I’ve hated him since he bought into the company I built from nothing and ripped it apart without a single thought for my employees. Throwing that Coke in his face was the best interaction we’ve ever had. You know why he wanted to talk to you?”
“I have an idea.”
“Well, I hope you bested him at his game. Both he and Jones deserve to come down a few pegs.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He smiled and picked up his book.
By the time I finished talking to the police when we landed—they asked both me and my new across-the-aisle buddy, George, for our statements—it was late. I was so exhausted I wobbled on my feet. Good thing I was calling a rideshare back to my place.
Cruz met me at my door, took one look at me, and patted my shoulder. Considering he looked just as bad, I offered him a gentle cuff back.
Then, I locked my door behind him and started taking off my clothes. I crawled into bed and wrapped myself around Millie, inhaling her sweet scent, thankful to be home.
“Luka! You’re back,” she said sometime later when she sat up.
She hugged me, and I clutched her close. “What time is it?”
“Two thirty.”
I groaned. “Mind if I sleep a little longer?”
“Go for it. I’m going to change and feed Bree.”
I slipped back into sleep, but I felt Millie leave the bed. When she returned, she ran her fingertips lightly over my cheeks, nose, chin, and lips. She kissed me softly before snuggling into my chest.
“I can’t believe how much I missed you,” she murmured. “I’m not sure I can live without you.”
Luka
“Why is there an article about you being accosted on the flight?” Millie set her iPad on the bed, still reading, and ran her hands up my arms, over my chest, and down toward my very evident erection. “By Trent? Oh, my—did he hurt you?”
I snorted as I collapsed back onto the mattress. “Please. As if that runt toothpick could. No. He poked me, got mad when I ignored him, started yelling, elbowed a flight attendant…” I told her the rest of the tale, following her to the nursery when Bree woke and needed to be changed—which I did, happily—and then fed, which I watched Millie do, happily.
“Wow,” she whispered again and again. “Wow…” She reached over and cupped my cheek, searching my face. “Oh, Luka. He doesn’t matter. You lost your mother.” She squeezed my hands, her eyes filled with compassion. “I know how much it hurts,” she whispered. “Do…do you want to talk?”
I took a deep breath and met her gaze. “I’m not sure the wedding’s a good idea.”
Chapter 16
Millie
Luka paced around me, clearly wound up to the point that he might snap. I sat on the edge of the bed because trembling prevented me from standing. Luka’s sheets were linen, which was made from the flax fiber. Flax, like cotton, was a polymer made mostly of cellulose, but also with hemicelluloses, lignin, pectin, and possibly wax or salts.
I traced the weave with my finger. “You don’t want to marry me? I’m sorry, Luka. I just thought—”
He slid to his knees in front of me, his eyes tortured, his beautiful chest on display. “I want that. Desperately. But you asked when you were afraid of your father’s reach. Now that we’re solving that issue, and we know the money is yours, you don’t need my name, my protection, the Wildcatters resources. I don’t want you to marry me out of obligation.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Sweat pearled at his hairline.
He was falling apart. And there was only one explanation for the thing he knew.
“You heard,” I said. My tone was flat. “Was it Gunnar or Cruz or Paloma who had you on the phone?”
“It was Cruz, but that’s not what this is about.”
I looked down at him for a long moment, studying his face. Luka’s bones were elegant and harsh. The sharpness of his cheekbones led to such kissable lips. His nose, with its bump and slight twist from being broken in middle school, added to his mystique.
