Love Lock (The Love Lock Duet Book 2) Page 9

  “Are you okay?” Claire whispers beside me. She’s as quiet as a mouse but doesn’t go unnoticed because of her arresting beauty.

  I nod, giving her my best I’m fine smile and she squeezes my hand, leaning into me. I’ve missed this.

  Within minutes, there’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere and I catch my mom searching for the remote as Dad’s gaze finds mine.

  “Hey, Pip.” He waves me over, patting the arm of the chair. “Your mom’s changing it.”

  “No, don’t,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear. All eyes turn to me, except for my mom, who’s still fiddling with the device. “Mom, it’s okay. Watch the game.”

  Football on Thanksgiving, while not as huge as in the US, is a family tradition and I don’t want that to change because of me.

  “Yeah, watch the game,” Paige echoes, grabbing my hand. “I’m stealing her.”

  I follow, sensing the heat of Drew’s stare on my back, but I don’t look at him. We make a pit stop in the kitchen and grab an opened bottle of red wine before heading to Bas’s room.

  Paige leads the way to the foot of the stairs, but as I take the first step, someone tugs at my waist. Drew.

  “Pip.” He squeezes gently on my hip bone and I stop.

  “Paige, I’ll be up in a minute,” I say.

  “Don’t be long,” she says in a warning tone.

  The moment echoes my wedding day in the small chamber off the chapel and I shiver, not wanting to be reminded of the past.

  “What is it?” I swallow and stare intently into Drew’s eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Concern laces his question.

  I nod, not trusting myself or my voice. He’s sweet to ask. He’s been nothing but concerned with my welfare since he first arrived in LA. But I can’t read into that. Drew is a kindhearted man. And even if his intentions are for more, I can’t go there.

  All night I’ve stolen glimpses at him. Fighting the feeling of nostalgia. Our history, our attraction, even before we were together, is alive and fucking thriving all around us.

  It both scares me and thrills me. I offer a small, appreciative smile as I step from his hold, putting more distance between us. I’m afraid that I won’t hold strong and won’t be able to resist the temptation to throw myself at him. It’s very familiar territory for us. I did so countless times during my youth.

  But I’m no longer that girl, with or without what has happened with Brock. Drew had his chance and he threw me away. He doesn’t get another chance.

  13

  Pippa

  Glancing around Paige’s little brother’s room, it feels like I’ve stepped back in time and we’re snooping in Drew’s bedroom a decade ago with the sports trappings, trophies, and décor.

  “I can hardly believe you’re here.” Paige collapses on the hockey-patterned comforter.

  This is the preamble. She’s warming up before she says what she really wants to say.

  “Me too.” I grab the wine, drinking from the bottle, in need of liquid courage.

  The conversation with my father and Drew is not something I want to do again, and my mom pulled me aside earlier today to let me know she and my dad had talked and she’s here for me. Talking to Paige won’t be easy. That’s the thing about best friends, they don’t let you get away with anything.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she starts, not mincing words.

  I swear it would be easier to tell her I’ve found the solution to peace in the Middle East than give her an answer. How do I even start to explain?

  You’d think the more I talk about it, the easier it should get, and maybe one day it will, but right now, I’m overcome with shame and anger at myself for getting into this mess. I’m smarter than this and should have seen what Brock was before saying I do.

  “It isn’t that simple.” I take another sip and pass the bottle to her, sitting cross-legged on the floor with my back against the wall. “I went to LA for my dream job.”

  She nods, knowing more than anyone how I worked my ass off so I could make the right connections and get the right training and experience to work with a pro team.

  “I hadn’t counted on the rest of it.” I sigh, running my fingers through the fibers of the cream carpet.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A relationship was the last thing I wanted. I was done with men. Drew was the only one I’d ever been crazy in love with.” I glance up, meeting her warm eyes. “And there was Finn. I’d also left to get away from my past, from Drew and from my brother.”

  “Okay, I get it, but I don’t understand how that has anything to do with…” she pauses, the words caught in her throat.

  “Brock,” I say, putting us both out of our distress. “When we got married, I thought I was finally where I was meant to be. I had the job, the husband… and then it fell apart. Losing my job was the beginning.”

  “What happened?”

  “Brock. He didn’t like me working with the team. You know, all guys.” I snort, a lone tear trailing down my cheek. “He wouldn’t have it and I caved. I wanted our marriage to work. I’d hoped in time he’d change his mind.”

  The heavy, oppressive feeling resting on my chest since her first question diminishes. It’s easier to tell Paige than my father and Drew. Maybe because she’s never placed me, unintentionally or otherwise, on a pedestal like my father has, and I fear the fall. My father has never been anything but loving and supportive, but I can’t stand disappointing him. I already feel like a failure.

  “Asshole.” She tilts her head back to swallow a healthy gulp of wine.

  “Then he got injured.”

  A recurring injury to his knee, and along with it came the revived media speculation that he might have to retire at the end of the season.

  “That’s what started it.” My insides twist. “I’m not justifying what he did.”

  “I hope not.” She straightens on the bed, her usually soft, attractive features hardening. “So basically, because he gets hurt, he takes it out on you?”

  Pretty much.

  “Yeah, with the stress, pain, and anger he lashed out and guess what? I was the closest to him.”

  “That doesn’t make it right or okay.” Paige is angry, not at me but for me; I can feel her indignation and I love her for it but I’m also resigned to my past.

  I finish the last of the bottle, wishing there was more. The alcohol has worked its way into my body, leaving me warm, tingly and loose-lipped.

  “I wanted to leave,” I whisper, hanging my head as shame curls tightly around my throat. “But… I was so embarrassed. Pathetic for not seeing Brock for who he was—” My lips press together to stop my sobs.

  “Nooo!” She leaps off the bed, taking me into her arms. “You’re none of those things. He’s a fucking jerk. He should be ashamed. He’s pathetic.”

  Hot, angry tears stream down my face while she holds me. “I’m not going back to him,” I say, just as much for her as for me, and it gets easier the more I say it aloud.

  “Do you still love him?”

  “It sounds stupid but… I loved the idea of him.” We pull apart, her gaze never straying from mine. “Most of my life was spent loving Drew, and when Brock came along, he was the first guy to make me feel anything remotely close to love. Or so I thought, at the time.”

  I don’t add that even still, those feelings paled in comparison to Drew. No one could ever come close to matching my love for him. I’ve already come to terms with that.

  “So you’re saying you didn’t love him?”

  “I didn’t know him well enough to love him. I loved the idea of finding someone after Drew. Of moving on, and I thought that was Brock.”

  “I feel like I failed you.” Her tears fall silently.

  “God no, Paige, never. I pushed you away.” My heart aches and I cling to her. “We need another bottle of wine.”

  She snorts, wiping at her tears. “Oh god, yes. This is why I’ve missed you.”

  A light tap
on the closed door is followed by Claire and Drew stepping into the room. I wonder how much they heard?

  “Dad’s looking for you.” Claire fidgets with the ends of her white-blonde hair. “He wants to play football.”

  Her pretty pixie-like features wrinkle into an exaggerated grimace and she crosses her eyes.

  I laugh and stand to pull her into my side. My little sister is unlike me in many ways, including sports. I’ll play anything with anyone, whereas she finds it torturous to even watch a game on TV.

  “All right, let’s go find him.” I pull her along, winking at Drew on the way out, and then immediately chastise myself for doing so. The wine has lowered my inhibitions and if I’m not careful, I could give Drew the wrong impression.

  “Want to be on my team?” I ask Claire.

  “No way. I’m not playing.” She tries to wiggle out of my grasp.

  “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

  “Ah, nope. Besides, no one wants me on their team. Dad and Tom have their sights on you and if you pick me, Tom won’t be happy.”

  “Too bad for him, he’ll just have to deal,” I say, entering the kitchen.

  My father hooks his arm around my neck and kisses my cheek. “Claire-bear, you found her.” He starts toward the door. “Let’s go play some ball.”

  There’s a football field not too far from here, where we’ve played many an impromptu game. And with the University of Toronto close by, there’s always people willing to play.

  Tom’s hands latch onto my waist and I tilt my head back to look up at him. To think, there was a time when I towered over him.

  “I’ve got Pip on my team,” he declares, loud enough for everyone to hear. He then presses his face closer to mine and whispers, “I’m not gonna push. Dad told us. All you gotta do is ask and I’ll do anything for you.”

  I pull away to get a better look at my brother as Dad retorts from somewhere behind me, “Ah, nope, she’s on mine.”

  “Anything,” Tom whispers. “I want to kill that motherfucker.” His lips are tight and thin, and his eyes burn with anguish and fury.

  My fingers lightly graze the sharp angry angles of his jaw and my grateful watery smile softens his features. “Just knowing you’re here for me is enough.”

  “Some things never change,” Drew says, chuckling at the familiar banter between father and son about whose team I’ll be on. Ever since they both realized I was as good as any boy, I’ve been a hot commodity on the field.

  With a final gaze at my little brother, who is more a man than my soon-to-be ex-husband will ever be, I glance to my father, waiting expectantly for me to declare that we’re a team. I laugh and smile at the overwhelming tender feeling of home moving through me.

  “Why can’t we all be on the same team?” I ask.

  “Tom and I are team captains.” Dad puffs out his chest, grinning, and leads us outside.

  “See, I told you,” Claire says, standing on the porch, waving us on with my mom and Olivia beside her.

  “Well, I’m not a team captain, so I’ll be on Pip’s team.” Drew steps in beside me, and I can tell from his smirk he’s deliberately adding to the brewing chinwag between my dad and Tom.

  “Ah, that’s only if I pick you,” Dad says.

  “Or if I do.” Tom pats Drew on the shoulder and runs a hand through his blond hair.

  “Wait, wait!” Mom jogs down the sidewalk, waving her camera in the air.

  Yes, camera, not phone. She hates cell phone pictures, no matter how good they are these days.

  “I want a picture of you all, but first, Colin, I want one of you with the kids.” She turns back in the direction of the house. “Claire, come!”

  The four of us—Finn, Claire, Tom, and I—gather on either side of our father and Mom encourages our smiles, taking countless pictures.

  We’re all fair-haired, including our parents, and Paige stands behind my mom, cooing, “Oh my, look at my golden beauties! Sin, I want a copy.”

  A few group photos are snapped while Sam tickles Paige each time Mom takes the picture. Paige acts like she isn’t amused, but it’s only for show because she adores Sam.

  “You okay to play?” Drew sidles up beside me and my silly heart does a flip. For one brief moment, it’s just the two of us and it feels like old times. No one else exists.

  “I’m okay. I’ll take it easy.”

  “Good.” He squeezes my waist and smiles.

  I nod, feeling loose-limbed and happy, my aches and pains forgotten. The wine could have just as easily had me a blubbering mess right now. Instead, it’s got me mooning over Drew. I just have to keep telling myself that he’s no longer mine and will never be again.

  When we get to the field, the banter between Dad and Tom has escalated into trash talk about their football skills or lack thereof. We ignore them and form teams.

  “Guys!” I step between Dad and Tom and point to the field where teams have already been chosen. “You’re both on my team.”

  “But, I’m…” they both start to say.

  “Sam and I are team captains. Let’s play, boys!”

  I clap my hands together and jog to center field and a warm, familiar pitter-patter moves through my chest as I get into position. The ball snaps and I briefly glance to my left, winking to my dad who’s still confused but in position, before turning to watch Drew wind his arm back, ready to throw the ball.

  14

  Pippa

  Straightening, my eyes track the striped ball with bated breath as it rolls right past the corner pocket and I groan. Another missed shot. I used to be good at pool, but I’m rusty. Just then, my ass buzzes and I fish my phone out, not sure whether it’s Riggs or Brock. He’s likely home now and has figured out I’m gone.

  A text lights up my screen with three little words. Heart racing and stomach rolling, I blink a few times, disbelieving what I’m reading.

  Drew: I miss you.

  I didn’t go back to Drew’s place last night after Thanksgiving dinner, but rather opted for Paige’s. I wanted more time with my girl and in my slightly tipsy state, I didn’t quite trust myself alone with Drew, in his place which once was like a home to me.

  Glancing up from my phone and Drew’s curious text, I catch Paige staring.

  “Your brother —” I pause, not sure how much I should say because it’ll only lead to her pestering.

  “Sucks donkey balls,” she says, casually popping a hip to one side.

  The guys in the corner—the ones who have been eyeing us since we arrived at the pool hall—admire her unassuming beauty. Average height with long chocolate locks, curves, and big doe eyes, she warrants a second glance every time.

  Meanwhile, Claire nearly spews iced tea through her nose, choking and laughing at Paige’s comment. Even with her drink dribbling down her face, she’s the showstopper among us.

  While she mops her chin with a napkin, the men stare at the fair-haired, blue-eyed version of Audrey Hepburn. One even licks his lips. Laughing, I delight in their indecision as their wolfish gazes swivel from the brunette to the blonde and back again. They just can’t help themselves.

  The one hanging back from the others, broody and sexy in a rebellious way, looks over at me, and before there’s a connection, I look back to Paige.

  “Ah no,” I snort. “He’s…”

  Should I tell them about his text even though I’m not sure what it means? In another life, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d be shouting from the rooftops that Drew Hayes misses me.

  “A loser?” Paige smirks in Claire’s direction.

  My younger sister’s chest is beet red. She’s noticed our audience, and while uneasy, it doesn’t stop her from sneaking timid glances at the hungry boys.

  “No.” I shove my phone in the pocket of my jeans and watch my best friend line up what could be the final shot. “He’s frustrating.”

  “True.” Paige leans over the pool table, cue in hand, poised to take a shot. “What did he do now?”

  Ever so
slowly, she glances toward the hard-on crew, and two of the three guys, like drones locked onto a target, stare unabashedly at her cleavage. With a naughty grin, she sinks the eight ball; her victory eclipses our conversation and I’m off the hook.

  “Bishes, that’s how it’s done!” she yells, winking at one of the dark-haired guys who’s beaming like he just took the winning shot. Claire claps her hands, delighted.

  “Easy, girlfriend, unless you want to take him home.” We bump shoulders and share a moment, her deep dark eyes seriously contemplating my comment.

  “It’s too early to tell.” Grabbing my beer, she tilts her head back, gulps, and passes it back to me.

  She sashays over to the guys and I chuckle. It’s been too long since I’ve been out having fun. Claire bounces from the stool toward me.

  “What is she doing?” She’s so naïve.

  “What does it look like?” We gather the balls and rack them up. “You want to join her?”

  I shouldn’t encourage my baby sister, but I’ve never seen her with the opposite sex. I’m curious. Heat crawls up her neck, reddening her pale skin, and she grimaces.

  “Ah, no. Do you want to?” Her tone drops to an eager whisper.

  “No.”

  There was a time that I wouldn’t have given it a second thought to join Paige, but I’m no longer that girl. I point to the group waiting for a pool table, letting them know we’re done.

  “Besides, I’m married.” I hold up my hand, forgetting my bands are back in my bedroom in LA. My ring finger was once adorned with two platinum diamond rings that were beginning to feel more like shackles than a sign of love.

  “Are you going back to him?” Claire is quick to ask.

  I drop my hand and immediately regret opening my big mouth. Brock is a topic I’d rather not talk about.

  “No, I’m not.” I force myself to look at her. Regret and shame won’t win. “Things aren’t fully worked out yet, but I’m here to stay.”