Chapter 3 - Xavier

Xavier

T he next week passed in a cloud of monotony: Training. Won a match. More training. Therapy. No contact with Victoria.

Cutting off all communication with her destroyed me.

It had to be this way. At least for now. Jordan was hovering too close and I need to stay one step ahead of him.

Not even Dr. Frances could convince me otherwise.

“How does pushing her away keep her, as you put it, safe?” He looked up from where he’d been writing in his notepad.

I shoved back the insistent wave of emotion threatening to reveal everything.

“I’m not pushing her away.”

“Okay. I’ll ask it a different way. How does not being there for her after making this emotional discovery together keep her safe?”

Fucking hell . Why doesn’t he just draw and quarter me? It would have the same damn effect. I could barely find a breath before I answered.

“It just does.”

I always assumed therapists were supposed to be good at keeping their frustrations hidden when patients stonewall them. Not this guy. His eyebrows shot up.

“The anger living in here,” he pointed to his chest, “will only worsen if you continue to suppress it.”

Not after I bury my fists in that low life’s face.

“It won’t.”

“It will.” He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. “You carry around this anger like some badge of honor. Anger only lasts for so long. After that, it becomes something more dangerous. Rage. And rage will make you careless.”

“Reckless,” I said aloud without thinking.

“Yes,” he responded. “Holding anger is like a poison. It destroys from within.”

My shoulders slumped enough for him to notice he’d broken through a little.

More notes on the page.

More tapping of the pen.

More thoughtful stares.

“Have you ever really stopped to process what it is that makes you this angry?”

Lancing pain throbbed behind my eye, making it twitch.

You’re nothing .

“No.”

I braced for another long-winded response. All I got was a hard stare and a quick nod.

“Have you always been this protective with your girlfriends?”

I flinched. “I haven’t had many girlfriends. Just casual hook ups.”

“But you did date someone long-term while in your twenties. Six months? Is that correct?”

“Don’t really see the point in bringing that up.”

“You don’t talk about it much,” he challenged. “You’ve only alluded to making mistakes and letting your reckless decisions cause someone harm. Did she get hurt in some way?”

If this fucking guy keeps pushing me …

“I’m not talking about it.”

“Holding it—”

“Fuck off,” I shouted. The echo of my outburst lingered in the room.

Dr. Frances observed me for a few seconds. It was brief, but long enough for the quiet to suffocate me.

“Are you still doing what I suggested at the gym?”

“Yeah.”

“Has it helped?”

“I guess.”

“Xavier.” His tone softened to a nurturing, parental octave. “Forgiveness is some—”

“There is no chance in hell I’m forgiving him.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. Consider forgiving yourself for whatever happened between you and him and your then-girlfriend. Try giving yourself some grace.”

No matter how loud I turned the music up in the car on my drive to the gym, all I heard was the thump-thump-thump of my heart. I like this therapist but fuck all, he knows how to get under my skin. And if we’re being honest here, it angered me even more.

I didn’t need to forgive myself or give myself grace or whatever bullshit touchy-feely nonsense he spouted at me. I needed to protect the woman I love at all cost. And that meant doing whatever it takes to keep Jordan away from her.

Bennet was already inside the workout area when I arrived. I didn’t say anything to him at first. I prowled around the room, stewing in my annoyance.

“I’m going to kill him.”

The words came out of my mouth with such ease it shocked me.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Bennet didn’t even bother to glance in my direction. He was too busy stacking weights on the barbell for another powerlifting round. “Go do what Frances suggested and hit the fucking bag.”

“Not quite what I want to hit.”

Bennet sighed, rubbing his temples. “We’re not having this discussion again.”

I secured the wraps around my hands. “This isn’t about me or the shit that went down with—” I caught myself before continuing. “This is about Victoria. He’s not getting away with it.”

“And what do you plan to do?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Avenge your girlfriend and her dead twin with an impulsive decision that will ruin your relationship and not only get you kicked off the team but thrown out of the league? Not to mention you’ll lose your business, get arrested, and possibly hospitalized with a broken face.”

“He called her,” I yelled. “He found her and called her and…and I don’t know what else he’s going to do. I have to protect her.”

Bennet’s mouth flattened in a hard line. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not really your fucking problem.” Exasperated, I walked away. Anger and fear rolled through me. The anger was obvious. Fear? I’ll never admit to it.

But my past is threatening to seep through cracks I thought I’d sealed. The fallout would be manageable, I suppose. Unless said fallout included losing Victoria.

The fucking thing in my chest went haywire at the mere thought of not having her in my life. She’s my light. Without her, I’d be lost.

I can’t lose her.

I won’t lose her.

This unwanted concoction of emotions threatened to dismantle the control I needed to have over the situation. Otherwise, I’d lose my shit and take it out on the next person who looked at me sideways.

Instead, I took it out on the punching bag in front of me.

Over and over and over.

I hit it until my muscles burned, my hands ached, and sweat dripped down my brow into my eyes. This definitely wasn’t part of my normal routine of strength training, running sprints, and working on my agility and quickness. Punching the ever-living shit out of an inanimate object didn’t quite qualify as preparation for my next match.

But I figured I’d do what the good doctor said.

You don’t want to be suspended again, do you?

I toweled the perspiration from my face and grabbed some water.

“Hope you got it all out of your system, mate,” Bennet drawled from the far corner of the training studio. “Thought you were going to dismantle the bloody thing.”

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be?” My words came out sharp. He’s been up my ass all week and I just wanted to get out of here without a litany of snarky comments or questions.

“Not this time,” he replied. “You’re too much of a loose cannon.” He raised his hand to shush me. “And it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you anywhere near McKennie again. The mess I’ve had to clean up since—”

“Keep scolding me, Logan. You won’t like what happens next.”

“Xavier,” he said calmly. “I understand why you went after him the other night.” Concern tinged his voice. “But I’m worried you’re conflating what happened with—” he caught himself “—you’re conflating what happened when you were younger with what you’ve learned recently. You didn’t know Victoria back then. It’s not the same situation.”

He’s right but it didn’t feel that way. I have to do something. He’ll hurt her.

All the stress and anxiety from the last couple weeks caught up with me, suffocating me until everything sharpened into a singular, painful clarity.

I fucked up.

I never should have left her like that.

“I’m going to New York after the final match next week,” I blurted without thinking. “I’m not doing anyone any good being far away.”

My words hung in the air, heavy and determined.

If I stay here, I’ll do something I’d regret. If I’m with her, I’m less likely to jeopardize my relationship and career.

Bennet’s resigned sigh was all I needed to hear to ease some of this tension. Don’t get me wrong. I was still ready to put him in his place if he so much as hinted at trying to stop me.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But don’t lose your head. And don’t do anything stupid between now and then. I need you focused and ready.”

“I’m always ready. You know that.”

“Sure.” His stony demeanor cracked a little. “We expect nothing short of perfection.”

Right. I am, after all, Xavier Fucking Maddox.

England’s number one.

As long as I’m in goal, there’s no chance we’d lose.

Arrogant? Yes. I didn’t work this hard or get this far to be modest.

A smug smile pulled at my lips. “If anyone scores on me I’ll retire. How’s that for perfection?”

Bennet’s exaggerated eye roll punctuated his response. “The size of your ego is astounding.”

“Go annoy someone else. I’m leaving.”

“One more thing.”

“What?”

“Remember how we discussed having Marcus keep an eye on Victoria?”

I tensed. Marcus is one of the Caldwell family’s top security guards. He’s assigned to Hannah’s detail, along with one of Bennet’s top men, Alex. It wouldn’t be too difficult for him to also watch Victoria.

The problem?

“She’ll lose her mind if I tell her she has a babysitter.”

Bennet shrugged. He’d brought up Marcus several times but before I left Manhattan I promised her I wouldn’t let it happen.

“Thought I’d give it another go.”

I grinned, remembering how she’d put him in his place when he’d originally suggested it. “It was entertaining watching you get reprimanded that night.”

The usual arrogant glow in Bennet’s eyes softened to intrigue. “She’s a handful.”

I bristled a little at how he said that with a hint of intention. I know he’d never try anything but a reminder won’t hurt. “For my hands only.”

“Meeting Cade for dinner later?” he asked, ignoring me.

“Yeah. Figured we’d cause some trouble out in the city before the end of the season.”

Bennet stared at me like he’s done since we were teenagers. “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered, arching an eyebrow.

“Remember the day you first met us?”

“Vaguely.”

“Do you still wear those ridiculous chinos?”

“Sod off, Maddox,” he answered, giving me one of his this topic is closed stares. But I could tell he was amused. As much as he made my blood boil at times over the years, I appreciated his friendship more than I could ever express.

“Do me a favor.” I walked toward the door. “Don’t tell Hannah I’m going to Manhattan when you talk to her. She’ll tell Victoria.”

“As you wish, my liege.”

I threw a towel at him and went home.

Since I still had a couple hours before meeting Cade, I decided to take my mind off everything and watch something on television. Something mindless.

I’d just sat down on the couch when my phone chimed. My heart jumped. Fuck, I wanted it to be her.

Adam: Dinner next week?

I scowled.

Nope. I tossed the phone on the cushion and leaned my head back. Unfortunately for me, he kept texting.

And texting.

And texting.

I swore under my breath, grabbing the phone.

Adam: Don’t ignore me

Adam: Xavier

Adam: Answer me

Adam: Fuck you

Me: What’s the urgency?

Me: And fuck you too

Adam: No urgency. Dinner next week after training. Don’t blow me off

Adam: Asshole

Hard to believe we were close as kids. Well, not super close. We had a healthy, competitive relationship since we’d both started playing football so young. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment our relationship turned hostile.

That’s a fucking lie.

It was more like a muddled bunch of little moments that grew and festered, toying with my general feelings of inadequacy. The scales tipped shortly before I joined Royal City’s development league and Adam befriended Jordan.

Screw this. I can’t keep dredging up the past. It’s done and gone. Aside from making sure Jordan gets what he deserves, the rest of it doesn’t matter.

You can’t bury your life away forever.

The words I spoke to Victoria not too long ago echoed through me. I’d said them to help her move past the guilt she carried over Charlotte’s death. She’d been so open and vulnerable with me that day in the storage unit.

Trusting me with a part of herself that she’d kept locked away for years must have been difficult for her.

I’d tried to be just as vulnerable with her more than once. But I ended up shutting down each time. Didn’t matter if we were talking or having sex, I couldn’t let myself go with her.

And I wanted that more than anything.

To fully let myself go with the one woman who might understand how to handle me.

The following week proved to be less aggravating. My only obstacle was meeting Adam for dinner.

I arrived first at the small restaurant in downtown London. Since the weather was somewhat agreeable, I chose a table outside to minimize any chance of causing a scene if he pissed me off.

Dr. Frances and I spoke at length about finding ways to curb my anger. Aside from the punching bag, he suggested putting myself in situations where losing control would be detrimental to my public image.

It’ll force you to stay present and be aware of how you react , he’d told me.

Why am I listening to this guy again?

Of course, sitting out here alone left me exposed to attention, which never bothered me in the slightest.

Several people recognized me and waved as they walked by. One guy gave me a dirty look. Must be a West London United supporter. I smiled at him anyway.

A couple of kids ran over asking for an autograph. They talked nonstop about their youth clubs until their parents managed to corral them. Both apologized profusely for interrupting my dinner.

I told them I really didn’t mind at all.

A few minutes later, two young women stopped to ask for a photo. I obliged, taking some time to chat with them.

“We’re really hoping to come watch you play in person someday,” the brunette said. “It’s so hard to get tickets.”

“That’s because you’re so good,” her friend fawned, looking at me with wide eyes. “You and your club, I mean. Yeah. Not…not just you.” She blushed.

I smiled, aware that some fans get tongue-tied. My usual default was to make a bad joke at Gallagher’s expense. “It’s a good thing Cade isn’t here. You know how he gets when he thinks he’s not the favorite.”

They both giggled.

The star striker did have a reputation for being pouty when the spotlight moved off him.

“We won’t tell him.”

The young women thanked me and went on their way.

“Some things never change. Center of attention as always, Maddox.” Jordan stood next to the table with an arrogant grin blooming on his lips.

Metal scraped on concrete when I pushed to my feet. Guess we’re about to test Frances’ homework.

The more this asshole smiled at me, the more I wanted to shove his face into the ground.

As tempting as that sounded, I held back. A world-famous footballer speaking to a high-profile British aristocrat already caught the eye of more than a few people nearby.

“What brings you to this part of the city?” he asked, smoothing down his tie. “A date?”

“Not really your concern, is it?” I folded my arms, my cool voice at odds with the violent intentions swimming in my mind.

Jordan sized me up with contempt. “How’s your lovely girlfriend these days?”

The tips of my fingers dug into my shirt. “Again, not your concern.”

A ruthless smile appeared. “Am I safe to assume you won’t be as open to sharing her as you’ve been with others in the past?”

In an effort to not kill him where he stood, I shoved my hands in my pockets and backed away.

“Touched a nerve, have I? Does she know what it’s truly like to be one of your girls?”

My hands ached from fisting them tight.

Breathe .

Jordan kept baiting. “Still keeping yourself all chaste and proper these days? Well, chaste isn’t right. It’s more likely my own dick will fall off before you stop shagging any woman that crosses your path. Surprised you didn’t grab those two for a quickie behind—”

I moved to swing at him, only to be blocked by Adam.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, standing in between us. “Traffic.”

Neither Jordan nor I moved or said anything. Years of animosity and betrayal saturated our bitter stares. We remained locked in this silent battle until Jordan spoke.

“Socializing with the blended family? Not going to lie. This is out of character.” Jordan donned casual surprise as easily as he did one of his expensive suits. “I’m sure you boys have quite a bit to catch up on.”

He’d walked almost to the edge of the sidewalk before turning and saying, “Drove past that lovely cottage again this afternoon. Briarcliff Cottage, is it? Maybe I’ll make another offer.”

Ice ran through my veins.

A vicious smile tugged at his mouth. “Money can be so persuasive at times.”