Page 26

Old Becca would be embarrassed, or mortified, to be discussing sex and orgasms in public.

New Becca just wants — no, needs — to get off, consequences be damned.

I jog behind Jacob as he strides down a darkened hallway. At this point, I’m so turned on I wouldn’t say no to him doing me against the wall right now.

“I like where your mind is, Spitfire, but no one sees your body, or your orgasm, but me,” he says over his shoulder.

“Did I say that out loud?” I wonder.

“You did.”

“I’m not apologizing,” I respond, making him laugh. He tries two doors before he finds one unlocked, and unceremoniously drags me into what appears to be a large room with shelves of cleaning supplies. He shuts the door, and I hear the lock engage as I’m pushed against the wall.

“This is gonna be quick, darlin’. I don’t know how long we have until someone comes along, and Coach will have my ass if he realizes I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper. “I can wait.”

Jacob cups my face between his hands. “I told you I’d make you happy. And if you think I’m going to turn down a chance to get you on my tongue, you’re sorely mistaken.”

I’ve barely digested his words before Jacob is on his knees, my leggings and panties around my ankles, and his mouth covers my pussy. I let out a loud moan before covering my mouth with my hands. His tongue slides against my clit with a quick flick, flick, flick, and he pushes one finger into my channel, finding my G-spot and pressing against it. The combination, along with how turned on I was to begin with, brings me to the brink immediately. When he catches my clit between his teeth, I bow off the wall in an extremely intense orgasm. But he doesn’t stop. I come twice more before Jacob finally sits back.

“I can’t feel my legs,” I blurt out, looking down to find him dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. He gives me a devious smile as he pulls my clothes up.

“I’m not apologizing,” he parrots back at me, making me laugh this time.

“I should have thought about this. How am I supposed to walk? I don’t know if I can get in and out of a rideshare or not.”

“You won’t be. You’ll ride the bus with me,” Jacob says simply.

“Won’t that get you in trouble?” I ask.

“I doubt it. They may ask that you get on the bus before the team. Sooner or later, a reporter is going to connect the dots that you rode the bus in Cleveland, and I don’t want someone to make a big stink about it.”

“A teammate?”

“No, the media. People are dumb, and they focus on stupid shit. That’ll be the focus instead of a guy getting a DUI, or someone being under investigation for tax fraud. I don’t want to bring any unnecessary duress to you than absolutely needed.”

“I’m honestly surprised we haven’t been more of a focus in the news,” I comment. “I know my boss promised he wouldn’t allow any coverage on our marriage, but I expected everyone else to be salivating at the news.”

“No one really knows yet, darlin’. Our PR department has done a great job of redirecting everyone, and even the pictures someone took of us in Vegas never saw the light of day.” Jacob rises, leaning in to peck my lips quickly. Crowding me against the wall, I feel so treasured. Sheltered. Loved. “I promised to protect you, and I’ll do everything in my power to do so. Plus, I kinda like being in this little honeymoon bubble with you.”

“I love you,” I whisper, so overcome with emotion and adoration for this man that I can’t go another second without gushing about it.

“Never gonna get old hearing that from you,” he says quietly. “I love you. As much as I would love to stand here with you, I have to get back.”

“Go,” I say, laughing. “I think I need a minute more.”

He kisses me again, before opening the door to sprint toward the locker room. I take a long exhale, my body still vibrating from the orgasms, but I jump when my phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s marked as a private number, and against my better judgment, I answer.

“This is the thanks I get for raising you?” My mother screams. “You have my only child arrested? I have never been so disgusted with you in my entire life!”

“You didn’t raise me,” I fire back. “You put up with me. At least now I know why. It wasn’t my fault your husband cheated, but you still treated me like trash.”

“That’s because you are trash! You’re no better than your actual mother. Trash that thought she’d made it big when she got pregnant with you. Honestly I wasn’t surprised when she dumped you on our doorstep and ran.”

“She ran?” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. I hoped my brother was lying. That maybe my birth mother was out there somewhere, even though I knew the truth in my gut. I’d already assumed I’d never find her, because she’d have reached out already if she wanted to be found.

“Of course she ran. Your father wouldn’t give her the money she wanted. He only gave her items you’d actually need. Once she realized you weren’t the cash cow she thought she had, she was gone.” The sheer gloating oozing out of my mother’s voice is making me nauseous. Until yesterday, I thought I’d just been a disappointment to her. I never could have imagined she actually despised me.

“Do you even know her name?” I ask somewhat belligerently.

“Drop the charges against my son, and I’ll tell you,” she answers.

My mouth drops open in disbelief. Bartering for my birth mother’s name? Certainly didn’t have that on my bingo card for the week. “No, Margaret . I’m not trading Rodney’s release for a woman’s name.”

“Then I hope you burn in hell, you ungrateful little bitch,” she hisses, and I hear the telltale sign of the call ending. Removing the phone from my ear, my hand shakes as I look at the screen. Adrenaline courses through my veins, but not in a bad way. For once, I’m proud of myself. I may not have gotten the last word, but I stood up to the woman who raised me. Or at least pretended to raise me. Old Becca would have bent over backwards, trying to appease my family. New Becca recognizes how toxic my family is, and wants no part of it.

“Becca?” I hear, and when my head raises, I see a man in his late thirties smiling at me. “Bennett Davenport, Jax’s coach. I’m not sure if you remember meeting me in Cleveland.”

“Oh, hi,” I rush out in an exhale of relief. “I do remember you. I only saw the back of your head during the game, and the one time I rode the bus I didn’t see you after you yelled at everyone to be respectful. I’m glad we can talk now.”

He laughs. “You did see me, but you and Jax were a little preoccupied. I’m assuming the same preoccupation is what brought him into the locker room late this evening as well.”

Heat flares up my neck and onto my face. “Well, umm …”

Coach Davenport waves a hand nonchalantly. “I think it’s a rite of passage with this organization to have some preoccupied fun here and there. My wife and I … well, I almost got fired for what we did, and my niece apparently convinced her husband to try out the Zamboni during a power outage.”

“That thing that mows the ice?” I wonder aloud. Jacob told me the name, but I couldn’t remember it.

“You really need to meet my niece and her husband. She called the Zamboni an ‘ice lawnmower’ for the longest time,” he says, laughing while using air quotes. “Her husband retired a year ago. Are you hoping for Jax to retire sooner rather than later?”

“Oh,” I blurt out, surprised. “We haven’t talked about it in depth. I’d never ask him to retire. He’s obviously quite happy playing hockey.”

Coach Davenport tilts his head to the side, studying me. “He’s not. He won’t admit that, though. At least not to me. I think he’s ready to be done, but wants to be sure he has the support of his friends and family. It’s an incredibly difficult decision, choosing between what your heart wants and your body needs.”

“I won’t tell him to retire. That’s not my decision,” I state firmly. I’m flabbergasted at how quickly the conversation with Jacob’s coach got serious. I don’t know this man, yet he’s giving me his opinion on Jacob’s career. “It almost sounds like you want me to convince him to retire, and that is not my place. Honestly, it’s incredibly disrespectful for you to assume Jacob can’t make his own career decisions. He’s spoken so highly of you, but I’m finding you to be a big disappointment.”

Coach Davenport’s grin widens as he throws back his head in raucous laughter. “I’m not trying to convince you to do anything. I did want to see if you’d fight for Jax, though. He’s had a shitty hand of cards dealt to him in regards to family members, and I wanted to be sure his wife would be his champion. You’re one hell of a fighter, Mrs. Mitchell.”

“Not cool, man,” Jacob says from behind me as he pulls me into his arms. The scent of his body wash floats over me, and I immediately relax into his embrace. “I don’t appreciate you trying to trick her.”

Coach Davenport shrugs. “I’m sick of seeing my guys get suckered into situations with puck bunnies, or relationships with women who only want them for their bank accounts. If they’re in it for the wrong reasons, they’ll agree with everything I say. But, just like the case with Becca here, when they’re truly happy and in love, they’ll argue back. You’ve got a strong woman in your corner, Jax.”

“I know I do,” Jacob replies proudly. Coach Davenport nods at us before walking back toward the locker room. “You okay, darlin’?”

I nod. “That was a very strange conversation. I didn’t like what he was insinuating.”

“I only caught the tail end. What was his argument?”

“Basically that you needed me to convince you to retire, and I said I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” he asks as he grabs my hand and begins walking behind his coach.

“Because I trust you to talk to me about it first, and if you wanted to continue playing, I’d support that. I’d never make that kind of decision for you, and I think you’d end up resenting me if you decided to retire based solely on my opinion.”

“I’d never retire just because of you, but I’d want your opinion. We’re a team now, Spitfire.”

“So,” I begin as we walk outside into the muggy Miami air, “what are your thoughts on retirement? I know we talked about how you can tell your body isn’t the same as it was in your twenties. But is your heart still in it? I’ll support whatever you want, Jacob. I’m here to be a sounding board whenever you need me.”

“Well, I’m thirty-four. I have another year after this on my contract. I’m already one of the old guys in the locker room, and across the league, there aren’t too many guys older than me. Really only a handful. I feel like I’m skating on borrowed time here,” he confesses as he motions for me to climb on the bus. Multiple guys call out to us when they see me, making me feel weirdly happy to be part of this family.

“What would make you keep skating?” I ask as we get settled in a row.

“A lot of things,” he says, his voice lowering. “A no-trade clause for starters. I’m having difficulty thinking about leaving you for away games, so I can’t wrap my head around the possibility of us living in different cities.”

“Is money a concern?”

Jacob gives me a lopsided grin. “No, baby. Money is not a concern. Trust me when I say we’re good.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” I protest with a laugh. “What if they offered you a contract for a lot less than you make now?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. I’d have to think about it. Usually a contracted amount directly correlates to how valuable the team thinks you are, so if they offered me something significantly less, I’d assume they also didn’t feel I would bring anything to the team.”

“I think this is where I’d really give my opinion,” I state firmly. “If you don’t feel like an asset, you won’t enjoy the time with the team. I just want you to find joy.”

He gives me a sweet smile. “I know you do, darlin’. I’m pretty damn lucky that you bring me more joy than I can handle.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, jarring me out of our conversation. Seeing another private number, I turn the phone completely off and throw it into my bag.

“What was that?” Jacob asks, surprise evident in his tone.

“Oh, probably my mother calling with another guilt trip about my brother. Oh, I guess that’s not accurate. She’s my step-mother.”

“What the fuck?” Jacob seethes. “What have I missed here?”

I quickly explain what my brother said yesterday, and then the phone call with my mother only a few minutes ago. “In hindsight, this explains so much. I always felt like she didn’t truly love me, but I couldn’t understand why. Here she was, tasked with raising a child that her husband created out of wedlock. I can’t imagine that was easy for her.”

“Becca, I swear to ever loving God, you better not give that woman even one ounce of sympathy. Her husband cheating on her was not your fault. The fact that she took it out on you is ridiculous. She treated a child like shit because she was mad at her husband.”

“It doesn’t matter now. I told her I wouldn’t trade any favors for my birth mother’s name, and that was that. As long as she and Rodney leave me alone, I’m happy to move on.”

“Oh, I’m gonna guarantee they leave you alone,” Jacob says as we pull into the porte cochère in front of the hotel. “I’ll call the investigator tomorrow to get an update.”

“It’s such a surreal thing to have your husband hire a PI to research your family,” I muse with a shake of my head.

“I’m sure it is, darlin’. Your dad and brother were into some shady shit. With your dad being gone, everything is gonna fall on your brother. He’s going away for a long time, baby.”

“What were they involved in?”

“So far, my PI has found bribery, falsifying documents, forgery, tax evasion, some kind of prostitution ring, and insider trading.”

“Prostitution?” I shout.

“That’s what you picked out of that sentence? I thought you’d have questioned the insider trading. That one involves your mom — I mean, step-mother — so she might go to prison too.”

I pause, thinking about the uppity woman and how appalled she’d be in gen pop of a women’s prison. “I really love this for her.”

He smirks. “I figured you would.”