20. Unraveling

CHAPTER 20

UNRAVELING

BIG D

The first couple of days in this city, I'd taken Kallie's white phone and played games with Jeremy. She had media meetings out of the office, so it was the right time to test the theory that he was tracking her every move.

I stopped at a few different places with the phone in my pocket, waiting to see what would happen. At the first two locations, the local post office and the grocery store, Jeremy texted, asking her if she was at the meeting, obviously realizing she must not be. I ignored those texts.

At the third location, a coffee shop near the arena, he drove by, and I recognized him in his sports car instantly. He didn't see me. This confirmed my suspicions, though. I called Kallie on her work line and told her the news that day.

The white phone has been turned off ever since. She keeps her pink phone on her body at all times so he doesn't get the same bright idea with that one.

Now that we know he's a creeper, and the lengths he'll go to, we have every right to second guess him.

Now it's only a matter of time before he reacts to the news I'm here and playing for the Capitals. It takes a few more days.

"Who the hell made this deal?" Jeremy storms into the team room, pointing at me where I sit with the other defensemen, along with the coaches. We're studying videos of the Los Angeles Vipers for our upcoming game against them, which will be my first official game with Austin.

My time with the Puckers and my knowledge from working adjacent to the Vipers proves useful in our studies today. I get a better feel for my new teammates as each day goes by.

The head coach, Stanley, stands and crosses his arms. If the two of them were in a fighting ring, my bet would be on Coach. He's been at this a long time, and I respect the hell out of the guy. I also have since learned that he and Brad are friends, one of very few my agent has here.

Coach's mug is intense as he glares at Jeremy like he hates the guy. I don't blame him one bit.

"Last I checked, you're in marketing, Whittaker. Last I checked, I'm the coach." He barks and pounds his thumb into his chest.

"Yeah? Well, maybe not for long once I talk to Campbell." Jeremy's hands lodge on his hips as he stands glaring at me across the table. "And you're gone. Don't even suit up for the game."

I know Brad, and I read the contract. There's little this piss ant can do about me being here.

"Hey! Get the fuck out of my war room. You have no say in how I run this team." Coach pushes toward him, his robust chest jutting out, bullying him with a scowl until he leaves the room.

The other defensemen whisper among themselves. From what I can gather, they aren't a part of the Whittaker fan club. We should get along well, in that case.

With his red face, I hope Coach doesn't have a heart attack as he sits back down. He says, "You have any trouble with Whittaker, you let me know."

"Will do, Coach. Thanks." I contain my laughter, absolutely pleased my presence here has that effect on Kallie's ex.

Over a glass of white wine after work with my cowgirl, I share about his outburst today in front of coach. I slip off her high heels and massage her feet while we talk; her moans are waking up my cock. Doesn't take much these days for him to be wide-eyed and ready for her.

I take this opportunity to hike her skirt up and caress her legs. I'm about to make a move on her, ready to skip dinner and go right for my dessert, between her legs, when she gets a call.

"Oh, it's Mom. I should answer, see if she's feeling better today. Dad's out of town, so she's there at the house all alone. If she just wouldn't drink so much…"

We've talked at length about her mother. Kallie wants to do an intervention and try to get her to agree to go to a treatment center. I'll back her on whatever she wants to do to help her mother get the care she needs. It seems to worry her and keep her up at night sometimes. Since being here, I've learned Kallie sleeps best after I've given her plenty of Big D. Otherwise, she's a very light sleeper.

"Hi, Mom," she answers and puts it on speakerphone so she can thread her fingers through my hair. I inhale her sweet nectar, leaning in and sucking her clit through the sheer black fabric of her panties.

"Kallie Ann?" Isabella's shaky, weak voice stops my action. "A man was here today, accusing me of terrible things."

"What are you talking about, Mom?" She rises from the couch, and I right her skirt back down in the same move.

"There was an accident this summer. Oh, shoot. I wasn't supposed to tell you that." Her slurring words are a clue she's drunk. She ends with a hiccup before she hangs up.

"I need to go to her." Kallie runs to the bedroom. I follow and watch her as she changes into jeans and a sweatshirt.

"I'll go with you, and drive," I say, but she stops me as she snatches up her purse from where she left it by the door.

"No, please. Let me handle this on my own. She'll be embarrassed to have met you in this state she's in."

"Kallie—"

"Seriously, stay here. It's probably just the alcohol talking. I'll help her get to bed, and I don't know. Maybe stay with her until morning. If she's sober then, I can ask her about this accident, but hopefully it's just something she dreamed up while drinking too much tonight."

Against my better judgement, I drop it. "Okay. Call me and keep me posted. I love you."

"Love you, too." We kiss and she leaves.

With an evening alone ahead of me now, it's odd. I peer around the apartment, now empty without her in it. I don't like it, so cold and quiet. It's as if her presence is what makes this place a home. Our home.

There's a laundry basket of towels that need folding, left on the kitchen counter this morning, so I make myself useful.

I've been with Kallie every night since I moved here, and I love it. Knowing I have someone to come home to, that I can be there for her to sip wine at the end of a long day and talk about things, there's something so powerful in our connection now. We keep getting better every day together.

The only thing I'd love more is if she'd wear her engagement ring and introduce me to her parents. But as she reminds me, baby steps. I promised patience, so I'm letting her lead the direction and pace of things. Jeremy knows I'm here. That's step one.

The next step will be her father, because undoubtedly Mr. Campbell's heard from Jeremy by now.

Then we'll?—

A phone buzzing jerks me out of my thoughts. Not mine. I follow the sound and realize it's from her pink phone. She left it on the couch in her haste to leave. I hate knowing she's out there without a phone, without a way to reach me if her car breaks down or something happens.

I pick it up, curious to see who is contacting her. It only slightly feels like an invasion of privacy, but I would hope at this point neither of us is hiding anything from each other. She's welcome to my phone anytime, although I'd probably prefer she stays off any of the puck bunny social media sites that might mention my name. Otherwise, my life is an open book.

The text notification on her lock screen shows a partial text from someone named Marissa.

Marissa... Yes, I recall now. That was her maid of honor, the one who screwed around with Jeremy.

Marissa: I'm in the hospital room 313. Jeremy's unraveling. I need to talk. Please come see?—

"Fuck. What? Um…" Unraveling doesn't sound good. I don't have a way to reach Kallie and this seems important, maybe more than tending to her mother.

I've only been the ranch one time, and didn't really pay attention to where we were going since she was driving. I weigh all the options, trying to decide if I should leave and run after her.

Another text makes my decision clear.

Marissa: I know you hate me. I deserve it. He hurt me bad. I have a few stitches and I real?—

Wait. Stitches and Jeremy in the same sentence? Definitely not good. I grab my keys and run out the door.