Page 97 of Goalie Secrets
“I’m Paul. Ashley’s husband.” He starts walking further into the house, glancing around as if he’s taking inventory. “I’m here to grab some things for Vanya. Ashley’s already with her.”
My insides turn to ice, ready to crack under pressure. “Ashley? Her friend from Boston?” I rasp.
“Yeah,” he says casually. “We took the first flight we could after we heard what happened.”
“What happened? Where’s Vanya?” I barely get the question out because the tightness in my chest is unbearable.
Paul hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” My voice cuts sharper than I intend, my heart pounding.
Paul takes a step back, clearly reconsidering. “If she didn’t tell you, maybe I shouldn’t, either.”
He moves past me, heading further into the house. My temper snaps. I take two strides and grab his arm.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’re going to explain yourself,” I say, my grip firm. “Why the fuck are you here and where the hell is Vanya?”
Paul doesn’t flinch. In fact, he shrugs off my hold and looks me dead in the eye.
“Get your hands off me,” he mutters, voice calm but unyielding. “You think I’m scared of you?” The confidence in his voice is jarring, and then he adds, “Do you know who I’m married to?”
I blink, caught off guard.
He doesn’t wait for a response. “Ashley and Vanya do things their way,” Paul continues, his tone dripping with finality. “If you don’t know, it’s because they don’t intend for you to know. Now back off.”
My anger falters, replaced by something far worse. Panic. My mind runs wild, imagining every possibility. I force my voice steady, but it comes out smaller than I want.
“Is she leaving me?”
Paul meets my eyes and doesn’t soften the blow. “She’s leaving Columbus, yeah.”
The words lodge in my chest. I can barely breathe, my chest crushed under a boulder of hurt.
“She wasn’t even going to say goodbye,” I mumble, hating how desperate I sound.
Paul shrugs again, infuriatingly casual. “Don’t bother asking me, dude. Ashley’s already taken over. I’m here to get what Vanya needs tonight.”
“What she needs,” I repeat, more to myself than him. She definitely doesn’t needme.
Paul glances at me briefly before moving toward her bedroom, leaving me standing in the middle of the living room, broken. I look at my phone, no longer surprised that she’s been ignoring me.
I leave her house and walk across the street to sit and wait in my car. Paul might not tell me where she is, but he will lead me to her. About ten minutes later, he emerges with a backpack and gets into his rental car. My one advantage is that he doesn’t know my car, so I follow him.
It takes less than two minutes to figure out Paul is heading to Columbus General. The moment he turns into the parking garage, dread grips me by the throat. My stomach twists and bile burns my throat.
Vanya is in the hospital. But why? She isn’t licensed to work there.
Shit, ohshit, she must be a patient! Oh my god, something happened to Vanya! Something happened between the time I fired her and whenever she called Ashley. Meanwhile, I had been laying around at home thinking we’re respecting each other’s space. Fuck space. Fuckme.
My hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles white, as a cold sweat slicks my skin. I can’t feel my limbs. My body has disconnected from my mind, operating on autopilot. Somehow, I manage to park a few rows away from Paul’s car without crashing. I don’t even remember pulling into the spot.
I trail him into the lobby, my legs moving without direction from my brain. Paul walks briskly, heading straight for the bank of elevators. When he reaches one, he steps in, and the doors start to slide shut.
If I let him disappear, there’s no way I’ll find her.
I dart forward and wedge myself into the elevator before it closes. When it shuts, we’re alone.
“What the hell!” he snaps with annoyance.