Page 111
Story: The Playbook Complete (Vegas Aces Complete Series Box Sets #5)
“I’m here today to address the punishment the league handed down to me,” he begins, and he looks all sweaty and freaking delicious as he speaks from the weight room, but I can’t focus on that right now. Not when I’m so damn angry. “It’ll hit the media shortly, but I wanted you to hear it from me first. I was found guilty of a crime and I’ve accepted the terms of my legal punishment. I made a mistake, and I never should have done what I did, but I did.”
He’s said that a few times now, and I can’t help but wonder whether he means he shouldn’t have gotten my ball back for me or he shouldn’t have vandalized Owen’s property in doing so.
I want him to mean the latter. He shouldn’t have vandalized Owen’s house, though honestly I’m not sad he did. Still, I feel like he means the former, and I’m starting to feel like he resents me because of that. It’s a painful thought in the back of my mind that I keep pushing away, but it keeps popping back up anyway.
Harper headed over to the Wilkinsons’ house after summer school, so I’m home alone watching this as my blood boils.
Why am I learning about his league punishment by watching him talk live on social media?
Why didn’t I get a phone call first?
“And now I accept full responsibility for my actions. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me, and I promise to do better. I promise to be someone you can look up to. The commissioner gave me the league’s punishment today, and he has decided, among other things, that I will be suspended for the first three games of the season. While I feel the punishment is harsh, I respect the decision and intend to prove myself during training camp. I will come back stronger than ever when we play Miami here at home in the fourth game, and I hope to be one of your starting wide receivers. Thank you for listening.”
He cuts the live there, and sadness pulses through the anger that I had to hear what his punishment was from his Instagram live instead of from my husband himself. I didn’t get the news first. I married him, but I still heard it when his scores of fans did.
I set my phone on the small table in my casita and stare out the window.
I know it’s a marriage of convenience, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. We’re still in a relationship, we’ve gotten close, I’m raising his daughter with him…and I deserved to hear it from him first.
We supposedly love each other.
I remind myself he’s never been in a relationship. He’s twenty-eight, and he’s never had anyone to share his news with. It’s always been him acting alone, and it’ll take some time for him to get used to turning to someone else first. It’ll take some time for him to get used to turning to me , his wife, instead of whoever it is he called first. Ellie? Jimmy? Allen? His father? Tristan?
It should have been me, but it wasn’t.
Regardless, I will stand by his side.
I could be the woman who says he doesn’t know how to be in a relationship and he’s on his own, or I could be the woman who says he doesn’t know how to be in a relationship so I will help him.
I want to help him. That’s part of what love is—it’s a give and take, and it’s about understanding and helping each other when we’re at our lowest.
And I know for him, this is a low point.
Even as the thought occurs to me, my phone rings.
It’s Dawn Patterson from the district office calling.
She’s probably just calling me about HR or paperwork or something, surely. I start my new position one week from today, and there’s still a lot to be done. I haven’t heard from anyone other than the verbal offer Dawn gave me a few weeks ago, and it sounded like the district personnel tends to take off much of the summer just like the teachers do.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Victoria Hartley please,” she says formally. I know who it is calling, and I know she’s heard my voice. She’s called me before, and she’s acting…strange.
“This is Victoria Hartley,” I say.
“Yes, hello. This is Dawn Patterson calling from the district office.” She pauses, and I guess I should say something.
“How are you?”
“Fine, thanks. I’m calling about a bit of a, um…delicate matter.” She’s still being very formal and I don’t have a good feeling about it.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, trying to keep the hope up in my tone, but it’s tough with the sinking feeling pulling my heart down into my stomach.
“We’ve gotten a few phone calls from the parents of students in your summer school class over at Stratford, and I’m afraid there’s been some…hmm, how shall we say this?” She pauses as she searches for the right phrase, and then she must land on it because she plows forward. “There’s been some negative media attention aimed at you that’s disrupting the educational process.”
“Oh, I promise it’s not interrupting anything. Yes, there’s been some paparazzi outside the school, but it’s regarding my husband’s recent arr—”
“I know what it’s regarding, Ms. Hartley,” she says, cutting me off. “And we don’t stand for that sort of thing here at the district office.”
My brows knit together. “I’m sorry?” I say, voicing it as a question as to what the hell she’s getting at and not actually apologizing.
“I’m sure you are,” she says, misunderstanding me, “but I’m also sure you agree that having one of our newest district employees in the news beside a criminal husband isn’t a good look just weeks after we hired you.”
I’m silent as I freeze, waiting for her to lower the hammer that I have a feeling is about to come crashing down on me.
“Being that you haven’t officially started your position here yet and the HR transfer paperwork hasn’t gone through yet due to summer hours, we’ve decided to rescind our offer.”
Boom. Hammer lowered.
“Re…rescind…” I’m stuttering.
“I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Hartley. I know you would have made a great addition to our team, but we just don’t feel you’re the right fit for our district given all the attention on your personal life. Surely you can understand that.”
“But what about my position at Stratford?” I ask.
“You resigned from it when you accepted the new position,” she reminds me. “It’s already been filled.”
“So you’re just…you’re telling me I’m out of a job?”
“I’m afraid so. We’ll have a substitute cover the remainder of your summer classes as well. But your husband surely can take care of you financially.”
What the fuck?
Did she really just say that?
It’s not about finances, never mind the fact that I told him I wanted his lawyer to stipulate that he wouldn’t need to take care of me financially since I have my own job.
My job is part of my identity. It’s who I am.
Without my career…if I’m not helping kids learn to read…then I don’t even know who I am.
Being an NFL wife was never part of the plan. It was never my dream or my goal the way helping kids learn to read always has been.
I’ve never been fired from anything before. I’ve never even gotten into trouble. Maybe I’ve been a goodie goodie my entire life, but it’s served me well.
Until I got tangled up with the bad boy NFL player. My gut told me to stay away from him when we first met, and I did at first until I couldn’t resist any longer.
And now look where it’s gotten me…fired from my dream job.
Marriages are supposed to be about supporting one another’s dreams.
Instead, a huge part of me feels like I just lost my dream, and it’s all because of my husband.
Table of Contents
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