Chapter 33

Wade

Wade Collins arrives with his publicist, Kali Roth at gala ball, further raising allegations they are dating

Edmonton Eagles owner, Marcus Edwards, confirms ‘disappointing' injury blow for son, Zane Edwards, out for the rest of the season

Unable to sleep, I'm in Kali's home gym, wearing only my boxers. I'm hoping to sweat out the anger coursing through my bloodstream following Zane's attack on Kali last night.

Feeling the need to punch something, or hunt Zane down and knock the shit out of him, I opted to go down the less violent path of an intense workout. One because Jordy's right, Zane's a provoker. He's desperate to get me in trouble and wants me to fuck up, and two, I don't want to leave Kali alone. She needs me.

I texted Lola when we arrived here last night, asking if she could drop off clean clothes for me this morning, and to pick up my tuxedo for dry cleaning. Replying instantly, she assured me she'd be here first thing, which should be anytime now. I hope she is, or I have nothing to wear today. Plus, I have plans and I can't exactly do them if I'm naked.

With ten miles under my belt from running on the treadmill and another hour's worth of working out using Kali's fancy fitness bike with interactive screen and online classes, I'm currently hanging upside down on the wall mounted pull up bar doing stomach crunches.

Legs wrapped around the bar above, not ready to quit, because I'm still livid with myself for not being there to stop Zane from hurting Kali last night. I count fifty in my head and keep going.

Huffing and puffing from exertion, sweat beads across my skin. Hands crossed over my chest, every lift upward, my stomach muscles contract and scream at me to stop, but I ignore them, imagining head butting Zane's face on every curl up.

If Marcus was serious about cutting him from the team for the rest of the season, then I won't have to see him every day, which makes me feel marginally better.

The hate I have for him is like a cancer in my life I can't beat. With space and time away from him now, maybe it's possible. Or maybe it's wishful thinking on my behalf.

"Sixty-two," Kali announces in a gravelly tone that instantly has my back up. The aftermath of Zane's actions is longer lasting than I would like. "That looks so hard. How many are you doing?" I hang there until she comes into view.

Barefoot, wrapped in a long black velvet bathrobe, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, she looks beautiful this morning. She steals my breath away every time I see her.

"As many as it takes to stop the fire of hell from rotting my gut." I puff and pant, then wipe my hand over my face as sweat threatens to cloud my sight. "Although since you walked into the room, it feels like it was extinguished." She's like my own personalized herbal remedy; unique, calming, and has an immediate effect.

"C'mere." I hold my hand out and beckon her to me.

"You're all hot and sweaty." Reluctantly, she moves toward my damp body.

Within arm's length, from upside down, I slide my hand up between her tie and robe and pull her slowly to me, being careful not to jerk her body or hurt her. She'll be sore today.

My usually strong girl looks much smaller and fragile, making it seem like her robe is drowning her.

"Morning, beautiful." I pull her close and give her an awkward upside-down kiss.

"You taste salty."

"You taste like honey."

Grabbing my face, she kisses me again with a sleepy smile. "You have no clothes on." I don't except from my black boxers.

"Lola is dropping some off for me."

"Have you been here long?"

I wrap my arms around her waist, which feels weird because I'm still upside down. "Ten-mile run, an hour on your fancy bike and however many crunches you counted, that's how long I"ve been here for."

"You ran in bare feet?"

"Yeah."

"You are savage."

"You are a modeling icon."

"Ah, so is that why you call me that sometimes?" she quizzes.

"Because you are one."

"Was."

"Still are," I counter, all my blood rushing to my head.

She looks up to my knees that are wrapped around the bar. "You are crazy. And strong. Watching you was hot. I would rip your clothes off if you were wearing some."

"Want me to do some more?" I might pass out, but it would be totally worth it if it's what makes her happy.

"As nice as that sounds." Her stomach groans, in need to be fed. "I'm hungry."

She's always starving.

"I'll make breakfast," I offer.

"Sounds good. I need nourishment."

I point to my dick. "Help yourself."

"I would if my jaw and neck weren't so painful." She laughs, but there's no warmth to it, which makes me feel sick.

Fucking Zane. He's a Class-A cunt.

Kissing her before I ask her to step back so I can get down, I curl up to grab the bar, lift my legs off it and lower myself to the ground. For a moment, I'm a little dizzy, but don't let it stop me from pulling her into my arms again to check her injuries.

Placing my pointer finger into the oversized collar of her robe, I examine the skin of her neck. Motherfucker left bruises, making it look like she's wearing a necklace of his fingerprints. I want him to pay for this.

"Whatever you're thinking. Don't, Wade." Taking my hand in hers, she squeezes it and cups my cheek with the other. "He's off the team."

"You sure about that? If Daddy owns it, he can change his mind at any time."

She nods. "Marcus has already announced it. He sent me an email with a link to the article. It's all over the news. They made up some bullshit excuse, outlining an old injury playing up. It was vague, but it did say he won't be playing for the rest of the season."

Holy shit.Hatred aside, Zane will be devastated. I know I would be.

While I may have thrown punches and lashed out, I would never hit a woman or sexually harass one. It's fucking wrong and downright disrespectful.

What a slimy fucker he's turned out to be. And a predator, it would seem too.

"Marcus confirmed the footage of the attack from the hotel has been sent to me by courier. It's the only copy. It's mine should I choose to press charges. Please, promise me, you won't touch him," she pleads.

"I can't promise that."

"You have to. I will not stand back and let you undo everything we are working toward."

If I punch him, I'd lose her. I would lose everything. She's got me by the balls.

"I don't want you to go anywhere. I like you."

"Like me?" I plaster a smile across my face.

"Yes, like you, like you."

Her eyes are uncertain, so I reassure her. "I won't touch him." I don't mention I could pay someone to do it for me.

"You swear?"

"Promise." I kiss her doubts away because I want to prove to this beautiful goddess of a woman that I am capable of doing as I am told.

Sometimes.

And I want to be better. For her.

I want to be the man she deserves.

I'm not yet, but I will get there, even if it kills me.

"You should see a doctor today." I want to make sure there are no long-term effects on her windpipe.

"I'm fine. I just need to rest. And painkillers."

I take this opportunity to ask her something I'm not sure she's ready for, or me, for that matter. "Depending on how you feel, would you like to come for a drive with me today?" I don't have a game until tomorrow afternoon.

"To where?"

"Gretchen's house. It's two hours away." I'm dreading the visit. "At yesterday's joint session with Thomas and Joe, they asked if I would consider going back to the house." They suggested using exposure therapy to overcome my post-traumatic stress from finding Gretchen there will help me move forward. "I need to face my fear of going back there." I may not even make it inside the house, but I'm going to try. "All being well, we could maybe stay over. There's a wooden deck along the front of the place, with a boardwalk that takes you down to the creek. You can sit and read a book, or?—"

"Yes." She pauses for a breath, then says, "I would love to come with you."

"I can't make any promises." I might panic at the first sight of the drive.

"I'll be there. You'll be fine. You've got this."

I've got her, and that's all I want. I'm already in so deep.

The shrill ring of the doorbell breaks our moment. "That will be Lola." I smile, then kiss her forehead. "You don't have to see her." My eyes drop to her bruises.

"I have nothing to be ashamed of." Straightening her spine, she looks like a fierce warrior when I know she's in pain. Accustomed to being what people want her to be, she doesn't do that around me, which I love.

Who am I kidding? I love everything about her.

Like.

Just like.

Not love.

It's way too soon for that.

Isn't it?