Striker's Waltz (Seattle Sound Series Book 6) Read online

  Lia had every right to be angry with our mom. I hated our mother’s treatment of her older daughters, mainly because I couldn’t understand how my loving mother could show such coldness to her children.

  What type of mother would I be? I was going to have a baby. I wasn’t ready. Yet I couldn’t wait to hold this beautiful child. I smiled, drifting in the daydream of a perfect miniversion of Teo running around with a soccer ball.

  “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll help you shower,” Mom said, startling me. I yelped as my muscles contracted, then I lay back, biting back a moan. “Then Nate can take me home.”

  Getting up sounded painful. The drugs were working their way through my system, making me sleepy.

  Brenna noticed my sagging eyes. “I’ll stay here with Pres. You go home. When she wakes up, I’ll help her get cleaned up and get her discharged.”

  “I need new clothes,” I sighed, wrinkling my nose at the thought of my outfit. The nursing staff had cut off my already-ripped top and my skirt, but my bra and panties were saturated with my vomit. More, Oren had touched me, violated my personal space and my safety. No way I’d ever wear any of those items again.

  “Done and done.” Abbi propped a shopping bag from an elite boutique on the small table next to the bed. “I was in there when I got the call. Everything’s your size.”

  My smile turned watery but it felt so good. “Thanks, Abbi.”

  “For you, auntie? Just about anything.” She leaned in and bussed my good cheek.

  My family said goodbye; I think I responded. As I slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep I pictured a beautiful brown-eyed child I would hold in just nine months.

  The soft woosh of the door opening woke me. Brenna lay curled up in the chair, magazine open in her lap, snoring softly, and Teo stood in the doorway, his tall, broad-shouldered body outlined by the florescent hall lights.

  He strode into the room, dropping a bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. He wore a badly rumpled suit, the tie long gone, sleeves rolled up and top three buttons undone, showing the gray T-shirt underneath.

  His eyes zeroed in on me and some of the tension drained from his face.

  “Preslee?” he asked, his voice hesitant.

  “Here.”

  His hand sought mine, wrapping around my cool fingers, bringing warmth and safety with him. He leaned closer and his scent tickled my nose. Warmth spread through my chest. He came here straight here from the airport, straight from his soccer match. Fatigue and fear still pulled at his features, but his beautiful brown eyes lit up with relief as they skimmed my features.

  “Dulzura.”

  His pet name. I smiled against the sleepiness tugging at me.

  Teo was here.

  Everything would be okay.

  23

  Teo

  “Why are you awake?”

  “Because you opened the door.”

  I edged in closer, wrapping my other hand around hers as I sat on the edge of the bed near her hip. My lips compressed into a thin, angry line as my eyes traced the large knot on her forehead.

  For the first time in my life, I’d chartered a private jet. I plowed past my coach, ignoring Jorge’s comments and the questions from the sports media outside the locker room, phone pressed to my ear as I made hasty plans. Getting to Preslee mattered more than a possible fine, suspension, media nightmare.

  Oren beat Preslee years before: she told me of the broken ribs, fractured face. How bad would she be this time?

  My chest loosened enough for me to take a full breath—my first since Noah texted me: She’s stable. Awake. Worried you’ll be upset. Don’t know what happened to her phone.

  Then a little later: In room 412. Private, like you asked. She’s sleeping.

  “Oren grabbed you as you were walking out of the symphony hall?”

  “Yes. When I wouldn’t stop fighting and yelling, he picked me up. I’m assuming he planned to take me somewhere.”

  Her voice cracked on the last word as a tremor built and slid through her. Her pupils dilated—from the pain or fear—and her breath grew choppy. I should have pushed harder for the bodyguard. I should have pushed the lawyer harder.

  I’d failed Preslee, failed to keep my woman safe.

  Emotions rippled through me but I managed to keep my fingers as steady as my voice. Preslee needed my strength now, until she regained her own. In this, I could not fail her. I bowed my head, not wanting her to see the anger and fear building there.

  I almost lost her.

  Brenna sat up in her chair, rubbing her hand over her eyes.

  “Teo. Did he wake you, Pres?”

  “No. He didn’t.” She gripped my hand harder, perhaps sensing my need to stand, to pace, to push out the adrenaline coursing through my system. When I met her gaze, her eyes were a soft, pale green. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I shouldn’t have left.” I knew it then, but I ignored the jittery, unsettling feeling that still fluttered just under my skin. Even now, as I gazed into Preslee’s eyes, I kept thinking about what could’ve happened.

  As soon as we finished the game—one I orchestrated from the sideline to a win of two-nil, thank you very much—I pulled out my phone and ignored the press, my duties to the team, and called Preslee. I couldn’t wait to hear her voice. And that’s when my night went to hell. I could still hear her cry when Oren grabbed her.

  Seeing her now brought all my emotions forward: the unrelenting fear I wouldn’t see her again topped the list. I leaned in pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. I wanted to ask her—right now—to move in with me, but she’d never mentioned our long-term future.

  Doubt crept into my mind, but I reminded myself that she needed time—time to trust me.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

  “Soccer’s what you do, Teo. You travel a lot for your season. I knew that when we started dating.”

  I cupped her chin, my eyes directly over hers. “I want to keep you safe. Make you happy.”

  She gripped my wrists. “You do. I am.”

  “Since we’re up, you ready for that shower, Pres?” Brenna yawned as she stood. “You smell gross.”

  “I’ll help her.” I flashed Brenna an annoyed look, unwilling to put up with her jealousy tonight. “It’s about midnight. I’ll call someone to take you home.”

  “You must be exhausted,” Preslee said, her angel brows pulling down toward her nose. I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss the tip.

  “Not like I’ll sleep at home, worried about you,” Brenna snapped.

  Preslee turned back to me. “I’m glad you’re here, but I’m sorry I’m so disgusting.”

  I raised my fingers to her lips. “If you want to shower, I’ll help you. Then you should rest.”

  “I told Pres I’d help her.” Brenna’s lower lip thrust out. “It’s not going to be sexcapades tonight. She’s been through major trauma.”

  I had to drop Preslee’s hand, afraid I’d squeeze her fingers too hard, as I waited for Pres to make her decision. She sighed, her gazed flicking back and forth between us. My frustration morphed into agitation. Preslee didn’t need a fight now. She needed calm, a chance to heal.

  “Thanks, Bren, but I need to talk to Teo. Maybe you could get us some coffee?”

  Her scowl turned more petulant as she stalked from the room.

  “She really doesn’t like me.”

  “It’s the newness of me dating anyone after so long.” Pres didn’t look any more convinced than I was by the argument.

  She struggled to sit up, and I leaned forward to help her. Her skin glowed milky white—ethereal. But even with the scrapes on her cheek and the lump at her temple, her porcelain skin glowed, her cheeks blooming with color.

  “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” She plucked at the blanket over her knees.

  “I like seeing you. You’re beautiful. And you’re safe.” I paused. The word “love” hovered on my lips. I rubbed my thumb along the smooth, un
blemished skin of her cheek and settled for, “I missed you. This trip was even harder than the last.”

  “I missed you, too, but I wanted to be clean when you showed up. Before the…the attack, I planned to be at the airport to greet you.”

  “Sounds delightful.” I smiled because she seemed to need it. “Next time. But I’m just thankful you’re okay.”

  “I am.” Her face filled with a radiance that stole my breath. I leaned in, needing to be closer to my siren. The abrasions on her cheek glowed angry and bright against the pearlescent wonder of her skin. She clasped my hands in hers, and I squeezed back. I craved her touch, the connection to know she was safe.

  “I’m better than fine.” Her eyes shone bottle-green bright in the dim light. “There were so many witnesses, there’s no way Oren won’t go to jail.”

  “That’s positive. My lawyer’s helping build a case to ensure Oren stays in jail for many years.” Confusion filled me. Why did she look so happy?

  Relief I understood but not this beautiful, fierce joy. I cupped her cheek, needing to be part of that happiness.

  “There’s more. My nurse brought me news.” She paused for a moment. “Good news, I think.”

  I waited, my heart pulsing in my chest.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  I sat back, shock rocketing through me, a dozen mini explosions starting in my toes and drifting upward, cutting off my ability to think.

  Preslee. Pregnant.

  “Pregnant?” I asked.

  “Y-yes.” Her voice faltered.

  “How? Are you sure?”

  Preslee’s fierce joy faded along with the brightness of her eyes. “That’s what the nurse said.”

  “And the baby…this is our child?” I asked, trying to keep my expression and voice calm. Neutral.

  “Of course.” Her confusion twisted and became something else—not yet anger but definitely not pleasure.

  My stomach twisted. I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply through my nose.

  “I’ve been taking my pill, same as always, but the nurse said it’s so early there shouldn’t be any problems. Thankfully, Oren’s punch didn’t dislodge the baby even though my stomach’s pretty sore.”

  “He hit you in the stomach?” I asked. That was my voice? No, not that garbled, husky tone.

  Preslee settled back, her eyes widening. “Yes. The doctor said I was lucky. Just bruising. Nothing permanent.”

  “Good. That’s great. How many times did he hit you?”

  She touched the knot on her forehead. “A few. Are you…are you angry?”

  That beautiful bloom in her cheeks had dissipated completely. I wanted it back, but she slid away, her face in shadows in the poorly lit room. I struggled to find an appropriate response, my father’s words circling my head: Even knowing she might trap you as your mother sought to trap me?” chased by Preslee’s: I’m pregnant.

  “No, I’m not angry. I’m surprised.” Disappointed, too, because I’d wanted Preslee to be different—to love me for me and not what I could give her in material terms. She’d said my money didn’t matter.

  I’d trusted her.

  I never trusted women. I couldn’t—I’d seen my father go through too many, grasping at his wealth and power. Like my mother.

  “You just wish Oren had punched our baby out of me.”

  I blinked at her, trying to follow her thoughts. Did I? “No, Preslee. God, no.”

  “You do,” she breathed. “You don’t want a baby with me.”

  She pulled her legs up, grimacing from the blows her slender body withstood. She scrambled from the bed. Her gait was uneven, but she managed to slam the bathroom door as I dodged machines and scampered around the bed.

  “Preslee. Let’s talk about this.”

  Nothing. I knocked again. Louder. Not caring if I woke up the whole damn hospital.

  “Preslee. I want to help you.”

  “We’ve been here before, Teo. Just go.”

  “And you wonder why I don’t like you,” Brenna said. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed. “You’re a self-absorbed asshole.”

  “This is between Preslee and me,” I gritted. I slid my hands through my hair. Pregnant. Blow to the stomach. She could have lost the baby before we ever knew about it. I wanted the baby I made with Preslee. Of course I did.

  I knew this is what I wanted as soon as I met her beautiful eyes when I walked into her hospital room, love for our child shining through her, making her glow. Yes, I wanted this. I wanted to share in Preslee’s happiness. I loved her. I loved our child already.

  “Get out of here, Teo. You’ve done nothing but make her cry.”

  I turned, biting back an angry retort.

  “That’s my lover in there. I plan to talk with her about my child.”

  “Fuck that,” Brenna snapped. “You don’t want a kid. You don’t even want her, not now that you knocked her up.” She looked me up and down, a sneer building. “You are such a selfish asshole.”

  Sleep had proved elusive since I left Seattle three nights ago, and now, I’d been up for more than twenty-four hours, my adrenaline crash hitting me so hard I could barely stand. Hearing Preslee cry out, too far away to do anything about it…I’d nearly gone crazy.

  And on top of those raw emotions came this: a baby. She’ll try to trap you my mother had insisted, nearly yelling each time I spoke to my father this week. I’d scoffed then. Now…now, my mind pitched and rolled, unable to cling to much except that I loved Preslee.

  I loved her.

  But could I trust her? With my heart? With my child?

  I didn’t know. We’d never said the words, never come close to saying them.

  My father married my mother because of me. Would I do the same? Did I want to?

  My plans, my carefully crafted plans—I gave up my dream to play in Milan, not fighting again when Roberto said they pulled out. I’d been angry but also relieved because I could woo Preslee slowly, build a life with her. Now, all that lay in rubble at my feet.

  “Go home, Teo. You’ve done enough damage in less than five minutes than Oren did with his fists. At least he only broke her body.”

  Brenna squirmed around me. Her hatred, flashed from deep in her eyes, virulent and ugly. “Get out of here. You’re making the situation worse.” She snarled, and I stumbled back.

  Brenna leaned against the doorframe. “Pres. It’s me. I’ll help you wash your hair.”

  The door cracked open. I wanted to shove it open and pull Preslee out and into my arms, as I wanted to, one look at her expression stopped me.

  Preslee appeared fragile. All color leached from her face. Her eyes were dull, her face streaked with tears. She’d remained dry-eyed when she thought I might be cheating on Mariana that night I carried her home from the bar, but this time, tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Brenna slipped through the door. The snick of the lock reverberated through my mind.

  “Preslee,” I whispered again, flattening my palm against the door. The sound of running water drowned out my apology.

  I slid down to the floor, planning to wait them out.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I turned to see an older woman in scrubs.

  I leaned my head back against the wall. “I’m waiting for my girlfriend to come out of the shower,” I said.

  “She’s in there by herself?” the nurse yelped.

  “No. Her friend’s with her.”

  “Oh. Then you need to leave.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I said, indignant. I was her lover, the father of her child. I wasn’t leaving her.

  “If you don’t, I’ll call security. It’s after visiting hours.”

  “The nurses had no trouble letting me in here fifteen minutes ago,” I gritted.

  She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms under her ample bosom. “That young lady said you might make trouble.” She pressed a button on the side of the bed. “I need security.”


  I ran my hands through my hair over and over, staring at the door, willing Preslee to come out. Each moment of this evening fell apart further. “I can’t leave her. Not now.”

  A blue-uniformed guard stepped into the room. The nurse’s eyes softened a little. “Look, if you want your girlfriend to heal, the best thing you can do is give her the opportunity to do so.”

  I gritted my teeth. Much as I wanted to cause a huge scene, the guard’s wary expression, the Timbers’ probable response, all those reasons stopped me. I left the room.

  24

  Preslee

  Being clean should have made me feel better. It didn’t. Nor did the comfort of my new silky soft pants and sleek, embroidered tee. Brenna helped me into the socks Abbi bought me, along with the motorcycle boots I’d lusted after for months. Leave it to Abbi to try to cheer me up with awesome footwear. Didn’t work.

  Brenna fumed as she helped me dress, finally bursting out with, “You’re so much better off without him.”

  I doubted that. Sure, I knew we weren’t ready for a child. We still needed to learn each other’s idiosyncrasies. Like Teo only slept on the right side of the bed. And I liked tea before I went to sleep. Little things, maybe, but important details of sharing time together. I’d hoped for more.

  And, yeah, I expected something from him. If not excitement at least… No, I wanted him to want a child with me. Sure, he traveled a lot, but his job with the soccer club required it. I would never ask him to stop.

  Had he paused, the concern flicking over his face, because he thought I wanted him to stop playing soccer?

  Maybe Brenna was right. I clearly didn’t have the instincts to find a quality relationship like my sisters’ and Abbi’s.

  But…maybe the baby shocked Teo.

  Maybe he thought I’d gotten pregnant on purpose.

  Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no! He was rich. Babies with clingy girlfriends happened to rich men. And then I remembered, one of our first nights together, him telling me about his father and mother. That his mother had gotten pregnant to make sure his father stayed with her. Fuck. What if Teo thought I was doing the same thing?