Page 8 of The Pucking Fake Marriage (The Ice Kings #4)

SEVEN

FACING THE MUSIC (KEN)

“Marginally better practice, Edwards,” Coach Tanner calls as I march out of the changing rooms, Blake trailing behind me. “Keep it up, and you’ll be ready to play against teenage girls in about a year.”

Blake chortles as I roll my eyes. “That’s his way of saying you’re improving,” he announces, like I don’t know that already.

“Whatever.” Even if Coach Tanner were to go off on me like last time, I wouldn’t be nearly as upset. My head is not back where it used to be, but things are better. Much , much better.

“We going back to your place, or you plan on stalking an innocent woman again?”

“Fuck you,” I say, throwing a punch at him. It lands feebly on his shoulder. “It’s not stalking when it’s consensual. Also…let’s go home.”

“Okay, now I’m worried.”

The second punch lands more forcefully than the first. Blake winces, and thankfully, he drops it.

We drive back to my apartment in silence. Blake’s focus on the road is far better than Alex’s, but I notice he’s gripping the steering wheel a little more forcefully than necessary. I don’t need to wonder too much about why he’s so tense, though. Whenever his wife Faye is outside the country for a show, Blake becomes a walking ball of nerves.

It’s almost cute if you think about it in a particular light. Loving someone. Giving your everything to them.

The way I wanted to do with Charlie ever since I was a kid.

I lean back on the plush leather seat, remembering. Kali and I were fifteen, and Charlie had just started dating him. It was still in the early days of their relationship, when I was almost convinced that it was some sort of a joke. That she was going to see sense and leave him. For me.

I was back in the kitchen with Mom. We had differences, my mother and I, but she liked me hanging around when it was time to cook. I displayed far more attention to detail than Kali, for one, and I was always ready to clean up. Kali had just walked in from yet another ballet practice as we pored over the lemon chicken recipe.

“It’s Charlie’s birthday in a few weeks,” my mom said to him. “What are you going to get her?”

I remember feeling quite smug. I was sure Kali was going to say something dumb. Plus, I’d gotten my gift already. Charlie had spoken about a few songs she loved over the past year, and I burned them all onto a CD. He couldn’t get anything better.

Sure enough, Kali shrugged and said, “Ballet shoes.”

Even our mother, who usually acted like the sun shone through Kali’s asshole, couldn’t ignore the incongruity of that statement. But Kali was not deterred. “All ballet dancers wear through their shoes really quickly. She’ll be glad. ”

For days, I waited in high anticipation for Charlie’s birthday, when Kali’s gift would confirm the obvious, that he wasn’t the one for her. And then, two days before the day, we were hanging out in my room when she randomly said, “I’m really hoping Kali gets me something nice for my birthday.” There was hope in her voice, but also something else. Concern.

Somehow, Charlie knew Kali was going to come up short. Even though she was bracing herself for it, it was still going to sting.

That night, I swapped my gift with Kali’s and gave her the ballet flats that weren’t even her size—fuck Kali to hell, really.

Because I’d rather hurt myself over and over than see her disappointed once.

I repeated the same practice over the next four years. Somewhere in there, Kali managed to figure out the right shoe size. He’d trade them for whatever I got, which was always her most pressing desire of the year.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Those times are long gone. Now I get to take pleasure in the fact that Charlie Chapman wants me as much as I want her, and I’m not going to be the loser who blinks first.

I have no idea what game she’s playing with me and that gym dude. I’ve mulled it over a couple of times within the last few weeks, and apart from an unfortunately planned threesome, I can’t imagine what she could be getting at. She did say something about a loan, but then, I don’t see where I come in.

I’ve started to wonder if our meeting in Las Vegas was actually a coincidence. Right now, I kind of doubt it. There’s little chance that she just happened to be in the city the same time I was and also happened to be down for a fuck.

She did everything back in that city knowing she’d have to disappear. And while it displeases me to think that her sleeping with me might’ve been for something other than wanton pleasure, I won’t dwell on that.

All I’m going to do is make sure that the next time I get to have her—and yes, there will be a next time—it’s going to happen only after I’ve dragged it on painfully. The gym episode was only the start of a slow, torturous process.

“Here.”

I look up to see Blake has just pulled up in front of my building. It’s a high-rise complex in the center of Midtown Village. Blake, who had an apartment here before he got married, looks up at the gleaming glass windows. His expression is almost wistful.

“You can get another place here,” I tell him. “They’re always looking for renters.”

“No chance, dude,” he spits, leading me into the foyer.

Using an elevator, we get up to my apartment in less than a minute. I’m not even the least bit shocked to see Alex and Reggie sprawled out on my gray couch, sipping on protein shakes, Alex’s legs resting on my coffee table. I’m only dimly surprised to see that there’s another man in my living room apart from the two of them. He’s perched comfortably on my sofa, and I’m absolutely sure I’ve never seen him before.

“Meet Matt,” Reggie says as we walk in. “He’s going to be taking my place next season.”

“Of course, you’re retiring.” I flash an unamused smile at him and kick Alex’s legs off my delicate table as I sit next to him.

“Yeah, I am.” Reggie seems proud of the fact. “I got a kid and a very pregnant wife. Can’t see that I have a choice.”

I roll my eyes. The TV is turned on and a basketball game is playing. It’s a replay, and I lose interest the moment I look at the screen. For a second, a deep sense of boredom overwhelms me, and I almost wish I was back at the gym, making a play for Charlie.

Almost.

As if on cue, Alex asks, “How was practice today?”

Blake supplies the info before I can. “Tanner likes him a little better than last time.”

“What happened last time? You were playing like shit.” Reggie asks.

“He had a run in with a woman that’s been messing with his head,” Alex supplies eagerly.

“That’s one way to explain the most traumatic event of my life,” I grind out, as Matt mutters something about the bathroom and walks out.

Alex grins at me. “Sorry. Thought you’d prefer the cliff notes.”

Reggie is staring at me, sympathy etched on his face. “Can see how that’ll fuck with your head. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“That’s not all of it,” I spit through gritted teeth. Now I’m really regretting coming back home. Hell, I’d rather see Charlie flirt with that hot silver fox than be a part of this conversation.

“Yeah, they knew each other from when they were kids. And she’s still not that into him. No one can figure out why.” This time, it’s Blake speaking. His eyes are glued to the TV and he has a water bottle in hand, but he’s still paying full attention to the conversation.

Fuck my life .

Reggie’s now eyeing me like a psychiatrist evaluating a particularly interesting patient. “What does this woman do for a living?”

I expected him to say something aggravating or ask a hard question. This is too easy. “Runs a restaurant.”

“Business going well?”

I squint at him, wondering why he’d want to know. But then, I think of Charlie’s restaurant the day we stumbled in. Success is a million different things, but definitely not that.

“I don’t think so.” I shrug.

“How close were you as kids?”

“She dated his twin brother,” Blake calls. “And Ken kept hanging around, hoping she’d change her mind and pick him.”

Blake’s too far away for me to throw a punch, but I hold onto that thought for later.

Reggie doesn’t seem distracted by the interruption though. He looks at me for a second longer before he heaves a sigh and leans back on his chair.

“Well, I can see why she dislikes you.”

My brows rise. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“You were childhood friends. But then you went on to become pretty successful. She didn’t. I can bet my right foot that she’s jealous.”

I blink. I was not expecting that. I turn to Alex, thinking he’d voice how far-fetched that idea is. But he merely nods, his gaze thoughtful. “Didn’t you say she was into ballet and had to stop after her accident? Maybe she secretly resents you for still having a full life after hers was thrown off track.”

I pause, realizing that their words make a lot of sense. Charlie cut me out of her life from the day she fell down the stairs. At first, I chalked it up to her needing some space to recover, but as days turned into weeks and then into months, I realized it was far more than that.

Are my friends right? Is Charlie merely upset about having to give up her career, even after all these years? Or is she embarrassed about the fact that her business isn’t doing well?

For the first time, I feel a twinge of pity toward Charlie. This is not life as she imagined it ten years ago, struggling to keep a restaurant afloat, lacking customers. By the looks of it, she’s got only one employee left. I can’t imagine any of that would be easy.

But then…

I think of the early days after Charlie broke her ankle. If she was upset about the fact that I got to live my life without any hitch, why did she keep dating Kali? They dated for a full year after her injury, until my dickhead brother broke up with her. His life was going pretty well, too. Maybe even better than mine, according to her standards.

My feelings of pity are drowned out by a greater surge of annoyance. Charlie might be going through the biggest mess of her life right now, but it doesn’t erase the fact that she cut me out for no good reason.

My fingers ball into fists. Stop thinking, I order myself. The past is in the past. The only way I’m interested in Charlie now is sexually. And she’s going to pay for everything she’s done to me.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Are we expecting someone?” I ask Alex, resigned to the fact that he probably invited half the team over.

He shakes his head. “Not that I’m aware.”

I roll my eyes as I go to the door. It’s probably another one of the guys…or so I think, before the door opens and I’m st aring down at Charlie. Her face is bare of makeup, her hair is in a messy knot, and her body…

A ball forms in my throat as I stare at her. She’s wearing a turtle-neck dress with full sleeves, stopping past her knees. Decent, really, except for the fact that it’s a dark green number that clings to every curve of her body.

And I mean every damn curve.

It’s about the worst choice she could’ve made.

“Hi,” she mutters quietly. I tear my gaze away from her body long enough to notice the expression in her eyes. There’s way more humility there than I’m used to seeing from her, but there’s also something else.

Desperation.

Realization dawns on me. This is no ordinary visit. She’s actively seeking me out for the first time in ten years.

She’s finally ready to tell me everything.

Why she was interested in getting together back in Las Vegas. Why she’s been avoiding me ever since.

I’m going to have all the answers.

“We should leave,” Alex announces. There’s shuffling in the background as my friends rise to their feet and start to slip through the doorway. Charlie moves aside to let them pass, but her gaze is fixed on me. I barely pay them any attention. Knowing that she’s going to tell me what’s been going on puts everything else out of my mind—even the damn dress.

In a few seconds, Alex, Reggie, Blake, and Matt are all gone. I take a few steps back, silently inviting her in. Still, she remains by the door.

I raise my brows, fighting back an impending feeling of irritation. If Charlie’s playing another game or trying to imply that she can’t trust me enough to be alone in a room with me, then I’m going to have to strongly consider slamming the door in her face.

Or just straight up fucking her and proving her wrong.

My body grows hot as I imagine it—pulling that sheath halfway up her body, banging her from behind, her ass cheeks bouncing as I pummel into her again and again.

Call it reparations.

Damn it, I want that. Screwing Charlie sounds a lot better than hearing her truth. In a few minutes, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off her. Even if it means having to deal with the overwhelming confusion.

I close the gap between us by taking a step closer. In that brief second, I’m decided on kissing her, on pulling her in, and taking everything I can.

But then Charlie takes a step back.

Anger burns red hot in me. What the fuck is with her?

But it’s only for a second. Because just then, Charlie reaches behind her into a tote bag I didn’t even see she was carrying. She pulls out a document and holds it up with trembling fingers so I can read it clearly.

The ball in my throat grows larger.

It can’t be. It can’t fucking be.

She confirms it a second later.

“We got married in Las Vegas,” she says.