6. Rachel

CHAPTER 6

RACHEL

O h shit.

The last thing I need is my ex getting up in arms about a man in the apartment. Especially since the man in question happens to be a gorgeous pro hockey star.

“What’s a strange guy doing in our son’s room, Rachel?” Charles whips around on me, cold eyes flashing with fury.

Charles gives me more than enough grief over ALL the things as is. I’m not about to sit here and listen to him spew a lecture on what I can and can’t do with Jett.

“Out. Now.” I hook my thumb at the hallway, and Xander shuffles toward the door.

“I didn’t mean you, Xander. You’re welcome to stay.” I fold my arms over my chest and seethe at Charles. “We need to talk, Charles.”

“I’m gonna get going.” Xander shoves a large hand in his pocket. “Thanks for showing me your room, Jett. See you at practice.”

Bending down, he ruffles Jett’s hair and Jett beams up at him.

“You’re welcome, Coach. See ya!” My sweet, tender-hearted child shoots him a wave and a gappy smile, oblivious to the sudden chill in the air.

Xander moves past me, our shoulders brushing, and I swear electricity crackles between us. Charles’s eyes flick to mine, then to Xander’s retreating backside, and his scowl deepens.

“Don’t,” I warn, my voice low as I stalk out behind Xander. Hot anger bubbles inside me and I hate Charles even more than usual in this moment. He has a knack for showing up at the worst possible time—where was the asshole when my car died?

Although then I wouldn’t have spent the evening with Xander. Of course, here he is now, spoiling the rest of the evening.

“Rachel, remember to put the pizza in the fridge.” Xander motions to the cardboard box sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, right. Thanks.”

In a bold move of aggression toward Charles—and lust, if I’m being honest—I stride across the room toward Xander.

Inching into his personal space, my body thrums with desire. I’m a livewire, buzzy with electricity, popping and sparking the closer I get to the man.

I lock eyes with him and drag my tongue across my bottom lip. Every nerve’s firing as Charles’s hot stare burns into my ass. Lifting up on tiptoe, I press my mouth to Xander’s ever so lightly.

He doesn’t let me down.

Gripping my hips with his giant hands, he kisses me back with a ferocity that literally takes my breath away.

And oh. My. Stars.

The hockey god knows how to kiss.

Ground trembling beneath my feet, the world spins wildly as Xander’s lips glide over mine.

“Ah-hem.” Charles clears his throat loudly, like the little drama queen he is. Pissed off that someone else is playing with the toy he discarded on the playground.

“Thanks for dinner,” I murmur, my palms patting at Xander’s spectacular pecs. He’s solid as a rock and I use his strength to pull me back down to earth.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and the gesture’s so small, yet so intimate, leaving a trail of heat in the wake of his fingertips.

“You’re welcome. Your car should be repaired by tomorrow.”

“Wait—what? How?”

“I called the mechanic. He towed it to the garage. I’ll swing by in the morning and pick you up, take you over there myself.”

“I can Uber, it’s fine.”

“Shh.” He presses a thick finger to my lips. “I’ll be here around nine. Night, Rachel.”

Peering around my shoulder, Xander wiggles his fingers at Charles. “Have a great night.”

Then he lets himself out, with one last cheeky wink in my direction.

I could love that man.

“What the hell was that about, Rachel?” Charles’s angry voice cuts into my dreamy thoughts. “And why is some hockey coach hanging out with our son? And what’s wrong with your car? Didn’t you get it tuned up like you were supposed to?”

Normally, the barrage of questions would send me into a panicked spiral, a fun mix of anxiety and insecurity.

But not tonight.

No, tonight I’m buoyed by the endorphins I got from kissing the hockey god. I’m barely tethered to the ground at all. Jackass Charles isn’t going to ruin my night.

I spin around to face my ex.

“First, I don’t have to answer any of your damn questions. You forfeited the right to know every detail of my life when we signed the divorce papers.”

Rage flashes over Charles face, his fists balling at his side. “Wrong, Rachel. You do owe me an explanation when it comes to our child. ” He draws the word out to at least four syllables, his tone condescending. Like he’s my fucking teacher or something.

“I’m his mother, Charles. I would never endanger our child .” I use the same long cadence, mocking him. My insides shake with fury, but I stand my ground. I’m sick to death of his attitude and demands, especially considering the divorce was his idea.

Best idea he’s ever had, honestly.

“And because I feel like telling you, that man is Jett’s hockey coach, Coach Kovac.”

“What’s he doing in your apartment late at night?” Charles fires back, his chin jutting at me.

“My car broke down and he gave us a ride home. We stopped and got pizza on the way home. And by the way, you’re not my freaking father, so I don’t appreciate the interrogation. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“When you didn’t answer your text, I got worried about Jett. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“Hmm, funny. You weren’t too worried when you were on ‘business trips’ all the time.” I air-quote business trips to drive my point home. “You were more interested in getting into your co-worker’s panties than what was happening at home with your wife and son.”

“Stop. Enough, Rachel.” His tone is flat, his jaw ticking. I hit a nerve.

“Fun fact—you don’t get to dictate what is and isn’t enough anymore, Charles.”

In two quick steps, Charles is in front of me, my biceps in his tight grip. Pupils dark and wide, the pungent scent of whiskey rolls off him.

Shit. I may have poked the bear a little too hard.

“I said that’s enough,” he growls. “I can get the judge on the phone right now and we can go back to court. Rework custody, since you’re clearly not thinking straight. May even be an unfit mother.”

Cold dread slithers down my spine as I stare at his stony expression. The man’s not bluffing and I know it.

As pissed off as I am right now, the last thing I want—or need—is another long court battle over Jett. I decide to back down and play nice, appease the monster one more time.

“No need, Charles. Let me go before Jett sees.” My arms ache under the vise-like pressure from his fingers.

With one last threatening squeeze, Charles shoves me away. I stumble, catching my hip on the corner of the couch.

“Ouch,” I mutter quietly, rubbing the sore spot and staring down at the carpet. White-hot rage burns in my chest and hot, angry tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I will not let him see my cry.

“Go home, Charles.” I tip my chin up and level my gaze on him, crossing my sore arms over my chest. “Sleep it off.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that? I’m glad I only have to deal with you for another decade and change.”

He spins on his heel and stomps out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t even bother saying good night to his son.

What a guy.

Only then do the tears spill over, streaking down my cheeks. I swipe them away with shaky hands, struggling to take a deep breath.

“Mommy?” Jett’s tiny voice fills the quiet apartment.

I wipe my palms down the thighs of my jeans and plaster a smile on my face before spinning to face him.

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?”

“Why was Daddy yelling? Is he mad at me?”

My chest aches for my precious boy. I hurry to him and wrap my arms around his tiny body, holding him close.

“No, bud. He was aggravated I missed a text, that’s all. No big deal. Let’s take a bath and get ready for bed.”

“Okay.” Jett pats my back reassuringly and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.

How dare Charles barge in here and make Jett upset?

“I like Coach, Mommy. He’s nice.”

I nod. “Mm-hmm, I do too. And yes, he’s very nice.”

Maybe too nice. I fell for a guy like that once. His name was Charles and look how that turned out.

As great as Xander Kovac seems, I should definitely keep my distance. I have to protect my child—and my heart.