Striker's Waltz (Seattle Sound Series Book 6) Page 18

  I put my head in my hands. I never considered that idea—how it would look to the outside world. It’s not like I wanted Teo for his money. His smokin’ hot body, definitely. For his focus, his passion, his innate goodness.

  He must have thought I’d lied to him that day we went to the barbecue—that I’d wanted nothing more than to force a forever-connection between us. While he’d never said so, I’d picked up on the fact he didn’t want a relationship like his parents’. From his comments, I got the sense the distance between them, his mother’s use of Teo as a bargaining tool, ate at his belief in love—in it lasting.

  I would’ve curled up tighter, but my stomach hurt too much from Oren’s blow. I cradled my belly, wishing I handled telling the conversation with Teo differently. Wishing he stroked my hair as he whispered Spanish endearments in my ear as he did every night as we lay together in his bed.

  “Better he did that now than after the baby comes. Then the media attention would be unbearable. God, imagine if you had to deal with all that rejection at once.”

  “Stop,” I whispered.

  “I mean, you think this media churn is bad, what happens when you birth the heir to that massive fortune?”

  “Brenna. Not now.”

  “Whether he wants to be responsible for your affair, you have rights, and he’s going to pay up.” Brenna’s chin jutted and her eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t need his money.”

  As stupid as it sounded, his money intimidated me—that kind of immense wealth brought scrutiny. The media crucified me when Oren attacked me all those years ago, and since then I shied far away from any form attention. I gave up my budding music career, thankful to back away from the limelight and its constant questions, the way the media picked at my every misstep and bad hair day. Same with soccer—for a while, not having to give interviews and see myself on some sports blog was a relief.

  I never told anyone, not Abbi or even Brenna, I’d been offered a lucrative two-album contract while I’d been living in Portland. By then, I fixated—and hated—the new hellish low of my life. The idea of jumping back into anything near that level of degradation made me physically ill.

  If I hated the faint glare of local scrutiny, the inability to get a latte without people commenting on my hair, nail color, or sunglasses, how would I feel about the international attention that came with a relationship with Teo? Why was I just realizing the importance of these thoughts?

  Because I’d been so wrapped up in him, in loving him, I hadn’t considered enough of the consequences of my actions. Once again, I failed myself by letting my emotions rule me.

  The pounding in my head grew to an unbearable thump.

  I refused to get back into the hospital bed. It stank of my sick. Instead, I curled up into the hard chair near the door. Brenna perched on the edge of the bed, her face concerned as she watched me struggle with my emotions. I shut my eyes and considered my past.

  I missed making music I loved. While I liked the intricacies of classical music and the symphony, I preferred the sharp one-four-fives of modern music.

  I had tucked away my love of performing outside the haven of the symphony forever, but recording the song with Asher, then the performance at the Timbers game… it unlocked that desire to entertain. Now that I’d done it again, I had to admit I’d missed it more than I expected.

  “Doesn’t matter if you want it. We’ll make sure you get it.”

  I needed Brenna to leave me alone. “I need some coffee.”

  “You can’t drink caffeine while you’re pregnant.”

  “That’s inhumane,” I exclaimed. “And how do you know that?”

  Brenna shrugged. “I read it somewhere. I’ll get you a decaf mocha. Decaf should be fine.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  As soon as Brenna left, I called the nurse. “I need to check out.”

  “Not without a ride home, dear. You’re still in observation period for your concussion.”

  “My boyfriend went to get the car,” I lied, looking her straight in the eye. I wanted to go home, now.

  “Are you sure you want to go home with him?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Had Teo said something?

  She didn’t look convinced so I played another card. “We’re expecting some media since he’s a soccer player. I’m hoping to get out before they see me. It’s…well, it’s embarrassing.” I dropped my eyes, hoping I’d played her sympathy.

  She sighed, the capitulation I needed. “I’ll get the paperwork. Your boyfriend’s going to watch you?”

  “Of course. He’ll bring me to my doctor if there are any symptoms.”

  He wouldn’t, but someone who loved me would ensure my continued health.

  I followed her to the nurses’ desk and signed the appropriate papers there. I glanced around, scowling, as I looked for Brenna’s long brown hair. I sighed with relief, thankful for these quiet moments. I couldn’t deal with any more from her right now.

  I started in surprise when Brenna said, “And just what are you doing here, missy?”

  I glared up at her, acutely aware of the nurses bustling around us. “I’m checking out.”

  “You need to stay for observation,” Brenna stuttered.

  “No, I need to go home.” I handed the nurse back her paperwork and walked toward the elevator.

  “Miss Jennings! We need to wheel you to your car.”

  “I decline.” I entered the elevator.

  Brenna slid in next to me just before the door closed.

  “You’re acting…I don’t know…kinda crazy.”

  I took the mocha she handed me.

  “I want to leave before the media shows up. If they find out Teo’s back and not with me…” I swallowed, a convulsive effort to regain control of my emotions. I’d cried once. I needed to get over it.

  Brenna slid her hand in mine. “Smart thinking. Wait inside the doors in the lobby. I’ll let you know when the ride’s here.”

  “Thanks, Bren.”

  We made it home without incident, Brenna uncharacteristically quiet. Teo wasn’t there. He hadn’t left a note, nothing. I went straight to my room, locking my door. Brenna knocked.

  “Need any help? Want to talk?”

  “No. I’m going to crash. The pain meds made me sleepy.” I kept the door closed, refusing to look at Brenna as I lied. My face and stomach hurt more now. I crawled into my bed. I wanted to call Teo but I didn’t know where my phone was.

  After all I’d been through, I remained so naïve. I believed Teo when he told me he cared about me. Maybe he did. But I don’t think he ever considered a future with me. That’s what hurt.

  25

  Teo

  The truth slammed into me as I sat in the back of the pristine Subaru that picked me up from the hospital: I just walked out on my pregnant girlfriend. Santa Maria. She must be furious with me. The hurt blurred her eyes, but now…she would be angry, and rightfully so. I’d head back to the hospital, sit in the waiting room. I stared out the window of the car, irritated by the paparazzi nearby.

  More would be at the hospital now. Fatigue blinded me even before the flashes sent me staggering as I walked toward the cab I’d asked to wait for me.

  “Teo! How do you feel about Preslee being in the hospital?”

  “Her ex-fiancée attacked her?”

  “Is it true he smashed her voice box, and she’ll never speak, let alone sing, again?”

  “Didn’t you want to see your girlfriend? Did you break up before you left on your last trip?”

  I turned around, refusing to let them print more rubbish about my relationship with Preslee. “She’s resting. I’m going back to see her as soon as I can.”

  As I walked to the elevator, I dropped my palm to the back of my neck, trying to ease some of the tension there. Brenna wanted me out of Preslee’s life. I knew that and I still did exactly what she suggested.

  I trudged up to my condo and fell into my bed, hugging Preslee’s pillow to m
y chest.

  My phone’s sharp ring dragged me out of a restless sleep.

  “Bueno?” I blinked back the grit in my eyes. My clock read 5:47 a.m. I bolted upright, my heart tripping faster than it did when I sprinted the length of the soccer pitch. My first concern was Preslee.

  “What were you thinking?” Noah growled. “Why did Preslee leave the hospital last night without you?”

  “She left the hospital? How? When?”

  The breakup question that reporter flung at me made more sense.

  Noah’s sigh filled the phone. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. I hoped she’d talked to you—you know, her boyfriend.” He paused as I tried to wrap my head around all the information flying at me. “Please tell me this is all a misunderstanding.”

  “How did she leave? Is she okay?” That seemed like the most important detail.

  “With Brenna, of course. Goddammit, Teo. She was beaten yesterday. Oren punched her multiple times. Why aren’t you with her?”

  “Because Brenna and a nurse teamed up and kicked me out of the room,” I bit off, fatigue and anger mixing into a toxic stew boiling over in my belly. Nothing had gone right in the past few days. I hated sleeping without Pres in my bed. We’d lost two of three our games and my hamstring refused to loosen up enough for me to benefit the team as a player. But the look on Preslee’s face when she thought I didn’t care. I swallowed hard. Why hadn’t I handled her news better? Why hadn’t I kissed her like I wanted?

  “Look, you’re clearly exhausted. Get some rest. But you should talk to her. Soon. This looks bad.”

  “It does. Because it is. When she told me…I didn’t handle some news well.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t walk out after Preslee told you she was pregnant,” Noah’s voice filled with concern.

  “No! I wanted to stay, but Brenna and then the nurse…” I let the words slide into silence.

  “Pres wanted you to know first. I’ve never seen her so happy. Did you yell at her?”

  “I would never yell at her.”

  “Well then, why did Brenna kick you out?”

  “See, Preslee was upset that I wasn’t more excited. But it was a shock, you know?” I sounded defensive.

  “What do you think is going to happen when you’re sexing it up with my sister?”

  “Well, I didn’t expect her to get pregnant the first month she was with me,” I bit back.

  “You think she planned this? What…for your money?” Noah’s growl caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. “You think my sister’s a mercenary? Have you talked to her at all? She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. I told Nate you made her happy, you fucking prick!”

  “I do make her happy.”

  “No wonder Brenna kicked you out. You know what? Just stay away from her. Jesus, I can’t believe you.”

  The call ended.

  I pressed the phone against my head and groaned. The only other person in Preslee’s family that I could maybe count on as an ally, and I’d pissed him off, too.

  I called Preslee, just needing to hear her voice. My call didn’t even go to voicemail.

  Cold sweat slicked my skin. She’d blocked my number. Mierda, this didn’t bode well.

  I scrolled through my phone, trying to figure out who I could call. Abbi might listen to my side. If I knew her number—or could retrieve it somehow. Not likely now. Brenna wouldn’t give it to me, neither would Noah.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to come up with a solution.

  It never came.

  Instead, I relived the pain creeping into Preslee’s eyes when I didn’t react with joy to her pronouncement. With both Noah and Brenna telling her I was a lowlife scumbag, Preslee might never forgive me.

  26

  Preslee

  “Want something to eat, honey?” Brenna asked.

  I stumbled to the couch with a curt no. Curling up hurt too much, so I lay there, stiff and sore. Brenna handed me my phone—the one I’d dropped yesterday—and I inspected the dented case. The phone itself was surprisingly unscathed—and fully charged—so I called Lia, Briar, Abbi, my mom and both my brothers. Noah stopped by an hour later, just before eight o’clock, knocking hard.

  As soon as Brenna opened it, Noah barreled in, hazel eyes flashing, his brown hair disheveled.

  “You stay the fuck away from him, Pres. Away. I’m getting him traded somewhere he won’t bother you again. To Argentina. Yeah, back home so he’s thousands of miles away.”

  “Good.” Brenna handed me a cup of water and my pills.

  “But he’s your best player.” I sipped the water and took the pills grudgingly. I didn’t want to do anything to hurt my baby.

  “Correction. He was. His injury’s made him a liability. A media one as well as a physical one. Martin agrees his lack of honesty with the coaching staff about the continued problems with his hamstring is the final straw.”

  “You talked the GM into this?” I folded my arms across my chest. I winced as I touched a bruise.

  “Who cares? He’s leaving.” Brenna said. “Now you can focus on getting well and getting over him.”

  “Yeah.” Noah sat on my dainty coffee table and grasped my hands in his. He rubbed the back of my hands with his thumbs, the gentle motion making me sniffle. “I’m so sorry he left you last night, Pres.”

  I glared at Brenna. “You called Noah and told him that?”

  Brenna crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “He left you. Of course I told your family that.”

  “The whole family is behind you. I talked to Lia and Asher. If it comes down to a legal fight for custody, we have the resources to win.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  Noah leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the smooth part of my forehead. “Don’t worry about it now.”

  “When does he leave?” Brenna asked.

  “Soon.” Noah stood. “I want him gone before the next game.”

  “But that’s in two days!” My heart stuttered, my righteous anger—built upon his desertion and the realization he thought I’d trap him into marriage—dissipated. I might never see him again.

  “I wish it was today,” Noah growled. “You’re not dealing with someone who thinks you’d try to trap him for money.”

  I dropped my eyes, not wanting Noah to see the tears gathering there. I blinked in rapid succession, forcing them back. So Teo did think my pregnancy was a plot to dig into his pile of money.

  He thought the child was a tool, not made from love. I bit my lip, thankful I’d never said the words to him. If I had, would he have considered them a ruse, too?

  Noah took my bowed head as capitulation. “I’ll take care of this for you. Don’t worry about anything but healing.” He kissed my cheek.

  After Noah left, the media harassed me. I refused to answer, and Brenna called the symphony’s marketing department. The director, Samson, agreed to put out a statement saying I was recovering and thanking everyone for their concern.

  Brenna left an hour later to pick up the last of my prescriptions, a prenatal vitamin with extra iron.

  Teo knocked on my door less than ten minutes later.

  “I must talk to you.” He looked worse than me, and Oren’s blows left me stiff, the areas purple and puffy. “Your brother’s trying to trade me, but I don’t want to go.”

  “You walked out on me last night.” My chin wobbled.

  “I wouldn’t have left the hospital if Brenna’s shouting hadn’t brought in the nurse.”

  Wait. What?

  Teo barreled on, before I fully processed that statement.

  “I know you don’t like hearing this, but Brenna does not want us together.”

  My confusion mounted. She didn’t trust Teo—I understood that, but his take on the situation seemed excessive.

  “You know I lo…I care for you, Preslee.”

  I waited, silently begging him to say he loved me. I’d thought he might. But he waited, his eyes
shadowed.

  “Tell me one thing.” My voice broke. “Do you think I got pregnant on purpose?”

  He hesitated, and my chest ached worse than any blow Oren delivered.

  “I know I want to be with you.” His voice was careful, more clipped than usual.

  I mourned the lack of accent and musicality. I loved Teo’s voice, the slight lilt to his baritone. More, I mourned his belief that I would treat him as his mother had his father. I closed my eyes, hating what I had to do—for both of us, but, most importantly, for our baby so he or she was never in the same position Teo found himself in as a child.

  “You were supposed to be different. To care about me.”

  “Do not lump me in with the filth from your past.” He gripped my shoulders and I knew he wanted to shake me. Looking at the bruise on my forehead he dropped his arms then scrubbed his face.

  “You’re hurting me more than Oren hurt me yesterday. I trusted you.” I bit my knuckles, hard—the last barrier against deep, ugly sobs.

  “Look, I get that I messed up. I should’ve handled you telling me about the baby better. But you must know you matter to me. The child matters to me.”

  Screw it. I’d pinch my skin if I needed to. It was my body, my messed-up life. I dug my nails into my forearm, wincing at the pain, focusing on it.

  “Stop it.” Teo’s eyes filled with sadness. Or was it secrets? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I pressed harder until I drew blood. At least the tears disappeared. I wasn’t crying over him, over a failed month of my life. I got a beautiful baby out of it—total win for me. Focus on the pain. Breathe. Focus on the child. Exhale. My baby. Mine.

  “You no longer have any right to tell me what to do!” I shrieked.

  Teo stepped nearer. He didn’t touch me, and I told myself I couldn’t have handled that. At the same time, I wanted him to pull me into his chest, to tell me the past few hours were all a misunderstanding.

  “Don’t do this to us, Preslee. I’ll fight for you. I’ll fight the trade, but only if you’ll move in with me.”