Page 20

Paige

D ad stares at me with his eyebrow cocked. “Well, that certainly took my mind off my own issues.” He frowns, seemingly lost in thought until he adds, “You’re right, that’s very odd behavior.”

I just told him about Mom’s interest in the Mikkleson business, and the face he pulled was priceless.

“So, I’m not missing something?” I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why she would invest in a company she has no interest in. She told me that herself.

“You could be,” Dad says, still musing. “I may not know much about your mom’s dealings anymore, but if you’d have asked me, I never would have guessed she’d get caught up with your ex’s family.”

I cringe. “I don’t think he was my ex when she invested.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

“Could she have done it thinking your families—our families—were going to merge?”

My eyes widen as I quickly shake my head. “If she did, she was completely misguided. I never once gave her any indication that we were end-game. I’m not even sure I believe in all that, so there’s no way I spoke to Mom about it.”

“ Paige ,” Dad lightly scolds, “I hope that's not because of your mom and me.”

“It’s not. Believe it or not, I can make up my own mind. I’m pretty clever like that.”

Dad rolls his eyes. “I know how clever you are. But that doesn’t mean your childhood hasn’t influenced your decision-making. In your own mind.”

“You’re not that important, Dad. Don’t get a big head.”

I smile like I’m joking, but we both know I have daddy issues. I’ve never shied away from that. Doesn’t mean I need to discuss them with my father. I’m not closed off to the idea of love or marriage, despite what Christian believes; it’s just not high on my priority list. But even if it was, it was never going to be him.

I want someone that sees through my name and my wealth and wants me for who I am. I want someone who is willing to protect me with all that they have but understands that I’m going to want to fly. And I want someone that doesn’t need to play games to determine who’s more desperate. I want someone just as obsessed with me as I am with them.

I want an equal.

And it wouldn’t hurt if he was built like a god, with an expert mouth and fingers that… Anyway, is that too much to ask?

“Have you spoken to your mom?” Dad asks, interrupting my thoughts. “Maybe there’s a simple, noncontroversial explanation. You never know.” His expression suggests he doesn’t necessarily believe that, and it makes me laugh.

“I thought you still loved her? That doesn’t sound like a man in love.”

“Does it sound like a man scorned? She broke my heart. It would make me feel better to discover she was a bad person.”

“Shut up. No, it wouldn’t. You’d hate that. For me.”

“Uh. Why are you so smart?”

“I don’t know, but it certainly doesn’t come from my dad.”

Dad laughs before a puzzled expression takes over his features. “How did you know about your mom anyway? If not from her?”

“If I tell you, I’m going to have to kill you.”

“ Paige .”

Why doesn’t anyone ever accept that as a response? Or laugh? It’s funny.

“I can’t tell you right now. All you need to know is that I’m fine. And you don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you. Even when you weren’t speaking to me, I was worried. But I also trust you. Though, I think you should call your mom.”

“I will. If for no other reason than I miss her.”

Dad and I keep the conversation light for the rest of dinner. He doesn’t mention what’s going on with the football team, and I don’t ask, knowing he wanted me to take his mind off things. But it’s obvious that it’s eating away at him, so I make plans to have dinner with him again in a couple of days. My way of checking in because I too worry about him.

When I get back to my apartment, I bring up Mom’s number and stare down at the screen. We’ve been speaking often, with me pretending she’s not still a little annoyed that I left New York, but now that I have something to ask her, I can’t bring myself to call.

Benching the conversation until tomorrow, I’m about to put my phone away when it rings in my hand.

And it’s Mom. As though she sensed I needed to speak with her.

“Mom?” I answer, a little thrown.

“Hi Sweetie.” She sighs loudly into the phone before whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” My confusion deepens.

“I miss you and I shouldn’t be holding that over your head. Plenty of kids fly the coop. I shouldn’t have expected you to stay close forever.”

Wow. Again… what? “Thank you. I miss you too. But where did this come from?”

Mom sighs again. “I was updating my will, and it made me realize how selfish I’ve been.”

“Did you take me out of it?” I joke. At least, I hope it’s a joke. And when Mom laughs, I’m somewhat relieved. Not because I’m desperate for the money, more so because I wouldn’t want her to cut me out of her life like that. And because my brother should not be left with our family’s fortune. The world doesn’t need that. And he can’t handle that much responsibility.

“I would never take you out of my will,” Mom confirms. “Your brother drives me crazy on a daily basis and he’s still there.”

“Good to know.” That confirms that he hasn’t changed. I really should call him too. One day. For now… “I was actually about to call you.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I already said you’re in the will.”

I laugh but it lacks enthusiasm. “I know. But I’m not kidding. I… I…” God, why is this so hard? “I wanted to ask you about the Mikkleson family.”

“Oh.” Mom falls silent before she sucks in a breath.

“Do you know why I’m asking?”

“I have an idea.”

“So…” I trail off, prompting her to fill in the gap.

“How did you find out?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just want you to explain.”

Mom’s quiet again before she releases a sigh. “Okay. I’d been out drinking and met Gabriel at Rounders Bar. We’d crossed paths many times before, and I always found him a little boring. But when he drinks, that man is a hoot. I wasn’t thinking. Neither of us were. And it just happened.”

What? My brows furrow as her words roll around in my mind. Gabriel? “Are you saying you slept with my ex-boyfriend’s dad?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what you were talking about?”

“No. Mom. Ew. When?”

“A year ago.”

“A year ago? Then…” This doesn’t make sense unless— “Are you still fucking him?”

“Paige. You’re talking to your mother.”

“Excuse me. Are you still having relations of a sexual nature?”

Mom releases a slow drawn-out breath, giving me my answer. And God, does it complicate things. “He’s married,” I say in case she needs the reminder.

“I know.”

“ And he’s my ex’s dad,” I add, hoping she’ll see the error of her ways. But of course she doesn’t.

“I know that too.”

“So you invested in his company.”

“What? Jesus . How do you— Shit. Is that what you were talking about?”

“Yes. And I want to know why.”

“Because it’s a great company. It was a no-brainer.”

What?! “Maybe that would be true if you hadn’t rolled your eyes when I first told you about Christian and his family. You’ve never cared about finance stuff.”

“People change, Paige. He needed an investor, and on paper it looked too good to pass up.”

“That’s great. Just be careful, Mom.”

“His wife won’t find out. And if she does, so be it. I’m not overly invested in the relationship.”

No, just his company. And that’s what I was referring to. God, what if he’s playing her? Or worse? What if she knows?

A fter a sleepless night, I call Dad around midday, needing more advice. As much as I’d love to handle this myself, I’m out of my depth.

Dad answers seconds before voicemail takes over, and I’ve never heard him so dejected.

“Hi, Paige,” he says softly, his voice flat. “Everything okay?”

“Is everything okay with you ?” A panic runs through me.

He blows out a sigh and I picture him shaking his head. “I had to let the Storm general manager go today.”

“You fired him?” My voice rises and I wince. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“That’s okay. You actually made me smile. It needed to happen. But he’s been there for a long time. It wasn’t fun, and I pissed off a lot of people.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“It really does.”

“Did you have anyone on your side?”

“I did. A majority of the board members were very supportive of my decision and had wanted to get rid of him sooner, only the previous owner loved him. And on top of that, the team's media liaison helped ease my mind.”

“Keeley?”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, we ah… I ran into her and she introduced herself.”

“Great. Well, she was supportive of the decision too.”

“You spoke to her about it?”

“No, it was more of a heads-up in case it caused a media frenzy. But she was happy to offer her opinion.” I smile because I can totally see that side of her even after only meeting her once. She’s the opposite of her brother.

“I imagine those things are never easy, but I’m happy you’ve got some support for it. I’m sure it will blow over soon enough. The season’s about to start, right? You said that, yeah?”

“Yes, Paige.” Dad laughs to himself. “The season’s starting soon. Which reminds me, you’re coming to the first game, aren’t you?”

I smile, but I’m lucky he can’t see me because it’s completely fake. Attending feels like torture now but… “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I laugh.

I get to spend hours drooling over Easton only to go home alone. Yay for me.

“Great. Good.” The relief in Dad’s voice makes me smile. I’ll suffer the hardship for him. Although, let’s be honest, it’s not going to be that difficult.

“Anyway,” Dad continues, “you called me and I took over. What’s up?”

“It’s not important.” Now is not the time. “We can chat at dinner later in the week.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. You have a lot going on.” And I need him to have a clear head when I tell him what I know.

“Okay, but you know I’m always here for you, right?”

“I do. Thank you.”

I hang up and I’ve just grabbed my bag to head out for a walk when an old friend texts me a link to a news headline. It’s not hard to guess who it’s going to feature.

My stomach knots as I click on the link, and when I read it, I feel sick.

So it begins.

Sources at Coastal Media say they’ve received never before seen intimate photos of Paige D’Angelo and Christian Mikkleson. The two have confirmed they remain friends. But are we about to find out what happened to send Paige running?

I ’m on edge for the next few days, waiting for my intimate photos to be broadcast to strangers. Ironic, really, considering I did a paid photo shoot full of intimate photos that I love having out in the world.

But this feels icky.

If they’re the photos I’m imagining them to be then they’re not at all the tasteful images the magazine took. No, these are raw and somewhat dirty. There’s nothing pornographic. It’s not like we filmed a sex tape. But Christian and I had an interesting sex life. And sending each other photos was just one of the games we played.

And despite what they think, unless it’s the photo Christian sent me, then I have no doubt the images Coastal Media claims to have are not of me and Christian at all. They’re me with other guys and Christian with other girls. Intimate poses, but innocent despite how they look.

At least mine were.

I always assumed his photos were too, but in hindsight, that may have been naive on my part. It was supposed to be a joke. Foreplay. A way to wind each other up to see who got jealous first. It made for incredible sex afterward. And I’m not at all ashamed of it. But now that it could affect the people I love, a little part of me regrets it.

Of course, I have the original photos on my phone and could easily prove what they are, but if no one believes the story behind the images, then I’m the bad guy. Suddenly the world isn’t just seeing photos of my life with my ex-boyfriend, but I look like the girl that cheated on her boyfriend multiple times and documented it with photo evidence.

And that’s so much worse.

Maybe I should have seen that coming.

Needing a distraction, I head to the gym after avoiding it for the past couple of weeks. For obvious reasons. And when I walk in, the obvious reason is lifting weights off the rack, his muscles bulging beneath his tee, his signature cap pulled low on his brow, confusing me until I realize we’re not alone.

Forcing my gaze away from Easton, I dump my bag in the corner of the gym and smile at the stranger on the treadmill.

I keep my eyes on my mat as I get ready for my warm-up stretches and try to ignore the way my heart races just thinking about the possibility of Easton watching me.

As my pulse spikes, I work through a few yoga moves on the floor, slowly stretching my body, pushing through the tightness and pain.

But while my eyes focus on the task at hand, my mind runs wild, replaying our previous encounters, imagining the things Easton would do to me if we were alone, and in another life.

When I’m done on the mat, I internally laugh at myself for acting so crazy, but when I stand up to stretch my arms, my eyes lock on Easton’s in the mirror, his gaze feral beneath his cap.

He feels the same.

For the next painful hour, we work out in silence, but our lingering looks speak volumes. Another two gym goers arrive, while the first one leaves, but it’s like neither of us wants to break the spell, because no matter how tired I am, I can’t leave.

I lift weights—tiny ones compared to Easton’s—and jog on the treadmill. I work my arms, my legs, even my goddamn pelvic floor, only that’s not intentional. No, that’s getting a workout from how much I’m clenching, trying to dull the ache pulsing between my legs.

I want him. He wants me. But we’ve made our bed and now we have to lie in it.

It was only casual, for God's sake. There are other men for me, other women for him.

We have to move on.

And yet, neither of us leaves.

Until I’m finally at my breaking point.

Slowing down the treadmill, I begin my cooldown, prepared to concede until Easton’s phone rings and he quickly packs up, disappearing without a backward glance.

The tension snaps as the door clicks shut and I’m finally able to breathe again.

No words were spoken, there was no touching, no feeling, and yet, I don’t think I’ve ever been that turned on in my life.

What is this man doing to me? And more to the point, how long can we keep this up?