Page 3 of Game Changer (Wynn Hockey #5)

Molly

Jax’s eyes shift around, but then he nods. “Okay. Sure. Let’s go.”

I want to escape so badly I don’t even take the time to change back into the clothes I arrived in. All my other things are already at the hotel where we were supposed to spend our wedding night. Shit.

Oh well.

Jax opens the door and peers out. We can hear faint voices but nobody’s in the corridor. He leads me out toward the elevators. I don’t know what’s going on, if guests have left, or stayed, and I don’t care, but I just don’t want to run into anyone.

But Jax takes me on a convoluted tour that ends up in the kitchen where my wedding dinner is being prepared. We meet stunned faces. “Is there a freight elevator?” he asks.

A woman points.

“Thanks.” Jax smiles and nods, takes my hand and rushes me through the kitchen.

In the empty elevator, I lean against the wall. “Wow. Great idea. Thanks.”

The elevator makes a rapid descent to the main floor.

“Hopefully we can find our way out from wherever we end up,” Jax says.

We emerge into a deserted loading area. We both scan the space and spot an exit door. We find ourselves in the loading dock area on Lower Wacker Drive.

It’s dark and desolate down here. “Great.” I look around at all the concrete. “Lovely.”

“We need to get a taxi,” Jax says. He leads the way to a narrow sidewalk.

Cars roar past us, the sound echoing in the enclosed space as we walk a dark incline leading up to street level.

Near the top of the incline, a man sits against the wall with a big bag beside him, no doubt containing all his worldly possessions. He eyes us as we approach.

I’m glad Jax is with me.

“Beautiful bride,” he says.

“Thanks.”

“I was married once.” He chokes on a sob.

Oh my God.

“That cheating whore…I got six kids with her.” He wipes his face. “She was fucking everyone in town behind my back.”

“Wow.” I drop down into a crouch next to him, my skirt spread all around me. Vaguely I realize this sidewalk isn’t exactly clean, but whatever. “Same. My fiancée was cheating on me.”

“Him?” The man eyes Jax suspiciously.

“No. He’s rescuing me. I didn’t go through with the wedding.”

“Good for you.” He pats my hand, tears still in his eyes.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah. My life went into the shitter after that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I have no cash whatsoever, or I’d give him some.

Jax digs into his pocket and pulls out a bill that he hands to the man. “Here you go, man.”

“Thanks. Good luck, pretty lady.”

We emerge onto South Wacker. City lights glitter around us. Jax spots a yellow cab and raises his hand to hail it.

I see the driver do a double take at my wedding dress, then jerk the wheel and screech to a halt at the curb.

“This doesn’t look weird or anything,” I mutter, hoisting my skirts and clipping after Jax in my high heels as he jogs over to the taxi.

“You wanted to leave,” he reminds me over his shoulder.

We jump in, me wrestling with the multiple layers of my dress. Jax helps me deal with it, tucking fabric under my thighs, then I pull the door closed.

“Newlyweds!” the driver says. “Congratulations!”

Jax and I exchange glances. I widen my eyes at him, and the corners of his mouth lift.

“Uh, thanks,” Jax says.

“Where to, lovebirds?” the cabbie asks.

Jax gives his address.

The driver chats all the way to Jax’s place, although I don’t say anything, lost in my misery until we pull up in the driveway of Jax’s building. I’ve been to his place once before when he had a party; he lives in a new, super modern high-rise on North Lake Shore.

Jax pays the driver and then leads me through the elegant lobby to the elevators where we take a ride up to the fifty-fourth floor. I’m hanging on by a hair at this point. Also, my feet hurt.

Inside Jax’s condo, I kick off my pointy-toed shoes and wiggle my toes on the hardwood floor.

As I was the first time I came here, I’m mind-boggled by the incredible views out his floor-to-ceiling windows.

I drop my tote bag and toss my purse onto a couch as I pad on bare feet over to the windows, mesmerized.

Far below us, streaks of light curve along Lake Shore, with other skyscrapers twinkling around us.

For a moment, I stare out at the city, feeling lost and despondent.

“Here.” Jax speaks behind my in a low voice.

I turn and he hands me a glass of clear liquid.

“Gran Patrón,” he says.

“Perfect.” I take the glass and sip the tequila, savoring the smooth feel and the hint of citrus. Jax taught me to like tequila, which we often drink while we’re kicking ass at trivia contests.

With a glass in his own hand, he moves over to sit on one of a pair of long couches. “The beaver is the national emblem of what country?”

I tilt my head, a smile tugging at my reluctant lips. “Come on. That’s way too easy, my Canadian friend.”

He grins.

I wander over and sit on the couch opposite him, a big cocktail table between us. I take another sip of tequila. “What is the name of Batman’s butler?”

He shakes his head. “Alfred.”

“I guess if we’re going to practice, we need more challenging questions.”

“Yeah.” He drinks. “What are you going to do?”

I know exactly what he means. “I don’t know.”

I become aware that my purse is buzzing. “Shit. My phone.”

I lean and stretch out my arm to grab the purse. With my nose wrinkled up, I pull out my phone. It’s blowing up with about a thousand text messages and missed calls. I sigh. “I guess I should let some people know I’m okay.”

“Some people, meaning not Steve.”

“Yeah, I don’t give a shit if he’s worried. He probably doesn’t care anyway.”

“I’m sure he does.”

I shoot Jax a dark look. “Why?”

“He loves you, Molly.”

“Apparently not.”

He winces.

I ignore the messages from Steve. I don’t want to read his lies.

Fucker. I send a message to our wedding planner, Katelyn Bennet, apologizing for what happened.

I tell her to call me if she needs me. Then I tap in a few quick messages to my bridesmaids and to my mom and dad, not telling them where I am, just that I left and I’m fine.

I’m not really fine, but I have to say that.

“This is nuts.” I lay my head back. “I’m supposed to be celebrating right now.”

“Yeah.” We fall silent for a moment, then Jax says, “You should have seen the look on the officiant’s face when you read those messages.”

“ ‘I can’t stop thinking about fucking you?’ ”

“Yep.” He chuckles. “Holy shit, I thought his eyes were going to burst out of his head.”

I grin. “Well, I’m glad I provided some entertainment.”

“You had to know that was going to be crazy.”

“Oh yeah. I nearly changed my mind about doing it, but I was just so pissed .”

“I get it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you bailed me out tonight.”

Jax lifts a shoulder. “Whatever.”

“I know he’s your teammate and your friend. I’m sorry I involved you in this.”

“It’s okay.” He meets my eyes. “I’m your friend, too.”

“Thanks.” My throat constricts.

“Uh…you want to stay here tonight?”

“Could I?” I bite my lip.

“Sure.” His voice sounds like he swallowed sand.

“I might need to borrow a few things.”

“Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” He pauses. “You hungry?”

“Not really. But I am kind of drunk, so I should probably eat something.”

“I don’t have much here. I’m leaving for California tomorrow.”

“Right.” I remember him mentioning something about traveling.

“I can order something in, though. Any preference?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“I’ll get a pizza.” He pulls out his phone.

“Sounds good.”

He orders the pizza, then disappears into his bedroom.

When he returns, he’s dressed in pair of well-worn jeans and a gray Chicago Aces T-shirt.

He’s carrying some clothing. “Here.” He sets them on the couch next to me.

“I know they’re not going to fit, but at least you can get out of that dress and be more comfortable. ”

“Thanks.” I scoop up the clothes. “Is your fireplace gas or woodburning?”

“What?” He glances over at the wall. “It’s gas.”

“Damn. I was thinking we could have a dress burning.”

He laughs. “Guess not.”

I trudge to the bathroom where I study my reflection.

My mascara is a bit smudged, but otherwise my subtle smoky eyes and blushed cheeks are still perfect.

My hair is in an elaborate updo of loose loops and twists, with small white flowers and pearls woven through it.

Gripping the marble vanity, I close my eyes as a wave of pain washes over me.

Since I got those texts last night, I’ve been a wreck. A nervous, heart-broken, nauseous mess. But I was also determined not to be a victim. I wanted to make a big, bold statement, and I did it. I hadn’t thought through the aftermath, though, and what would happen next.

Jax has given me a pair of plaid pajama bottoms with a drawstring waist I should be able to tighten, and a huge, soft T-shirt. He’s such a sweetheart.

Big problem though—I can’t get the little buttons on the back of my dress undone. I peer over one shoulder, then the other, nearly breaking my arms trying to do it.

I really don’t want to ask Jax for help. I mean, we’re friends, but he’s a guy, and this is…awkward.

Finally, sweaty and frustrated, I give up.

I walk out the living room where Jax still sits. “Sorry to bug you with this, but…I can’t get my dress undone.”

He looks over at me. “Oh.” He sets his glass down and rises.

I present him with my back. “The buttons are really small.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “They are.”

The dress is off the shoulder, so the top of my back is bare.

He moves up behind me, and his fingers brush over my skin as he starts to work on the tiny studs.

I can feel his warmth and his focus as he opens each button, from the top down to my waist. The bodice loosens around me and I lift my hands to hold it in place.

Finally, he says hoarsely, “There you go.”

“Thank you.”