Break Away (The Baltimore Banners Book 5) (16 page)

"No. Absolutely not."

Emily paused, the cup halfway to her mouth, her fingers tightening around the handle. The vehemence in her sister’s voice startled her. She lowered the cup then faced Monica, doing her best to keep her face blank, expressionless.

Monica leaned against the counter, her arms folded across her chest, her fingers digging into the flesh of her arms so hard Emily could see the angry indentations from where she was sitting. Monica had been distant, even sulky, the last two weeks. Emily had done her best to give her sister some space, to keep any conversation light and superficial. It hadn’t been too difficult to do, considering Emily had been spending much of her time with JP if he wasn’t on the road.

Monica’s mood had seemed better this morning, a little lighter. At least, not as surly or bitter. Emily didn’t know why, thought that maybe the holiday season was finally having a positive effect on her sister. And she thought it was the best time to bring up her idea.

She hadn’t expected such a violent reaction from Monica.

Emily sat the cup on the table then shifted in the chair so she could face her sister. Monica’s jaw was clenched, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the far wall. Anger rolled off her in suffocating waves. Anger—and something else Emily couldn’t quite read.

"Why Monica? Why are you so set against it?"

"Because this is my house. That’s the only answer you need."

Emily sat back, stung. Not just by Monica’s tone, but by her words. "
Your
house. Because I’m just living here, sponging off you, right?"

"That’s not what I meant."

"Really? Because it sure sounded that way." Emily pushed the chair away from the table and stood, not bothering to hide her own anger. "Never mind how I help you out with all your bills. Help out with Taylor. None of that matters, right? It’s
your
house."

"When it comes down to it, yes, it is. And I don’t want him in this house."

"Why, Monica? What do you have against him?" Emily didn’t bother to lower her voice, didn’t bother to reign in the anger and hurt searing her veins. Why had she thought bringing up the idea of JP coming over for Christmas was a good one? She should have known better, shouldn’t have said anything. Not now, not with the mood Monica had been in.

But she was tired, so tired, of pretending Monica’s attitude didn’t bother her. Even now, as she stood there leaning against the counter, fixing Emily with a steely glare.

"I don’t like him. I don’t need another reason."

"You don’t even know him, Monica! You’ve met him, what—once? For thirty seconds? How can you even say that?"

"I don’t need to know him. All I needed to know, I learned five years ago."

Emily clenched her jaw and ran one hand through her hair. Part of her wanted to argue with Monica, to defend JP. Yet another part understood her sister’s feelings, understood why she wasn’t willing to change her mind. But that was five years ago. If Emily was willing to try again, willing to leave the past in the past, why couldn’t Monica? Why couldn't her sister see things as they were now? Why couldn't Monica see how happy Emily was?

She asked her sister that question, not really expecting a response. Instead she received another cold stare, another blast of icy rebuke that froze her in place.

"And what are you going to do when he hurts you again, Emily? Expect me to pick up the pieces? Again? Because he will hurt you. Men like him don’t change. He’ll use you until he gets what he wants then throw you to the side and completely forget about you."

"What?" Emily stared, her sister’s bitter words sharp, cutting. "Is that what you think? That he used me? Tossed me to the side?"

"I was there, Emily. Remember? I was the one who had to pick up the pieces when you fell apart."

"Fell apart? Fell apart?" Emily crossed the kitchen, advancing on her sister. "I had a miscarriage, Monica. I lost my child. Our child."

"Yes. And he wasn’t there for you. He tossed you to the side as soon as it became inconvenient."

"Inconvenient?" Emily could barely choke the word out, her throat was so tight with anger. "No, Monica. If he had wanted to do that, he would have tossed me to the side when he found out I was pregnant. He didn’t."

"No, he waited until later." Monica shook her head and stepped away, putting distance between them again. "And he’ll do it again. You’re nothing but a fool if you think he won’t."

Air burned her lungs, each breath painful. She couldn’t believe the things Monica was saying. Her own sister. Hurtful. Almost spiteful. Bitter. So bitter.

"Jon really did a job on you, didn’t he?"

Monica swirled, the motion so fast that a hunk of her short hair whipped into her blazing eyes. She stepped closer to Emily and pointed a shaking finger at her, her face red with fury. "How dare you! What gives you the right to say such a thing to me?"

"It’s the truth, Monica! Look at you. You’ve become so bitter. It’s like you have no joy left in life. You let him suck every last bit of it out of you."

"We’re not talking about me!"

"Aren’t we? Monica, I let go of the past a long time ago. Why can’t you?"

"You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Really? Look at you! You’ve become so bitter, so wrapped up in what happened with Jon and what he did to you. You don’t enjoy life anymore. Not every man is like Jon. Can’t you see that?"

Fury burned in Monica’s eyes. Fury and something else. Was Emily getting through to her? It was her fault. She should have seen this earlier, should have noticed how miserable her sister really was. Why hadn’t she seen it?

No, that wasn’t true. Emily had seen it, even before JP came hurtling back into her life. It just hadn’t been as noticeable then, as clear. What did that say about her as a sister, that she let Monica’s misery spiral so far out of control without noticing? Without trying to help?

"Do not turn this around and try to make it about me. This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. You and your fantasy world. Do you really think you can just pick right back up where you left off with that man? Pretend that nothing ever happened and you’ll live happily ever after?"

"Monica, I’m not looking to pick up where we left off. I’m not even looking far into the future. I just want to enjoy what life has. Here, now. Why can’t you understand that?"

"Because he’s going to hurt you again. He’s going to use you, then go on to the next woman. And the next and the next. He’s a player, Emily. Do you honestly think he cares about you at all?"

Emily turned away, no longer able to look at her sister. At her pale face, at the accusation and bitterness in her eyes. And she had no idea what to say, not when Monica’s words were nothing more than a reflection of her own doubts and worries. How many times had those same words played over and over in her own mind?

She wasn’t blind, wasn’t completely foolish. JP had a reputation, a well-deserved one if even half the stories were true. And she was only fooling herself if she said it didn’t worry her.

But what she told Monica was the truth. She wasn’t looking into the future, not right now. And she wasn't living in the past, not any longer—not her past, not JP's past. Not
their
past. All she wanted was one day at a time. For right now, she was happy having JP in her life. She didn’t know what they had or what they were doing, she only knew that she enjoyed being with him—despite the painful history they shared.

Or maybe because of it.

She turned back to her sister, not surprised to see that Monica’s expression hadn’t changed. Bitter, hurt, angry. And Emily had no idea what to do about it, how to help her sister now that she could more clearly see what was going on.

"Monica, I’m sorry. I know you mean well, but you can’t judge every man based on what happened with your ex. As for JP…I have no idea what’s going to happen. Tomorrow, next week, next year. I don’t know. What I do know is that for right now, I enjoy being with him. And that’s all I’m focused on: right now. Today." The words were calm, soft. Emily meant them to be reassuring, not confrontational.

Yet Monica’s eyes narrowed to nothing more than slits, so narrow she could no longer see the dark blue of her sister’s eyes. Her hands curled into fists and she stepped closer to Emily, each breath an angry wheeze through her clenched jaw.

"No. I don’t want you seeing him again. Not as long as you’re living in my house. Do you understand me?"

Emily blinked, her mouth opening in shock at each clipped word. "You can’t be serious."

"I’ve never been more serious. If you don’t have the sense to protect yourself, then I will."

The floor shifted under Emily, the room spinning in crazy circles. No, that was nothing more than an illusion of what she should be feeling. Isn’t that what happened when people’s lives crashed around them?

Maybe not, because the illusion was over, gone just as quickly as it had started. And instead of blinding panic, instead of paralyzing terror, Emily felt…calm. Peaceful.

She didn’t have time to examine the odd feelings and sensations, not now. She could do that later, when she was alone. Right now, there were other things she need to do.

Emily looked at Monica, not really seeing her, and nodded. "Fine."

"I knew you’d see it my way. Trust me, this is for your own—where are you going?"

Emily stopped on the top step and glanced over her shoulder. "I’m going to pack."

"Pack? Pack for what? What are you doing?"

"I’m doing just what you told me to do, Monica." Emily ignored her sister’s shocked sputtering, ignored the look of terrified surprise on her face.

Maybe she was making the biggest mistake of her life, maybe not. But she couldn’t stay here, not right now. What surprised her even more was the realization that it had nothing to do with JP or with Monica’s ultimatum—and everything to do with herself.

She had been here for too long, had fallen into a pattern, a routine, that was no longer healthy. Not just for her, but for Monica as well. Maybe leaving would turn out to be a mistake. But for right now, it was what she needed to do.

It would be even better if she had a place to stay.

"You got ten minutes, Larocque."

JP lowered the phone and shot a dirty look at Mat’s back, then moved closer to the corner, away from the flurry of noisy activity.

"
Ma chère
, tell me again. What happened?"

"Monica and I had an argument and I moved out."

JP rested his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes as something heavy hit him in the chest. Disappointment. Sorrow. An overwhelming sense of regret. "Because of me, eh?"

There was too much noise around him, enough to hide her sigh. But he knew it was there, could hear it in his mind, just a small breath of air. A little sad, maybe even a little impatient. "No, JP. It was because of a lot of things. And probably overdue."

"Liar." He heard her laugh, soft and clear, and felt some of the tension, some of the worry leave him. "Where are you now?"

She gave him the name of a mid-priced suite hotel. "It even includes breakfast each morning. All the comforts of home."

"Emily—" Someone brushed by him, pushing him against the wall. He tossed a dirty look over his shoulder then righted himself. "Emily. You don’t need to stay at a hotel. You should go to my house."

Silence. Not even a sigh. JP closed his eyes and called himself a fool. Where had that come from? He hadn’t been thinking, had just blurted out the offer. But now that he made it, he realized he wanted her to accept it. To say yes.

But she didn’t say anything so JP took a quick breath, forced a smile to his voice. "Think about it at least, eh? If you need—"

"JP." Her voice was soft, too soft for him to decipher her tone, not with the noise blaring around him. He suddenly wished he was there with her so he could see her face. To be with her, hold her, reassure her.

The thought blind-sided him, knocking the breath from him. No. He didn’t mean it that way. Certainly not.

She said something else, her words so soft and the noise around him so chaotic that he missed it. But she only laughed when he asked her to repeat it and he couldn’t help but worry that maybe he had missed something. Something important. But his time was running short, he needed to end the call.

He closed his eyes, the image of her soft hair and blue eyes immediately coming to mind. Full lips, with just a hint of a smile teasing the corners as she talked to him. JP took a deep breath and let it out slowly, grinding his teeth at his body’s reaction to just that small image.

"We come home late tonight and have practice tomorrow. After that, I’m free all day. Want to meet after that?"

"How about after work? Maybe an early dinner?"

And dessert. Definitely dessert—all night. But he didn’t say that. "Sounds perfect. I, uh, I need to get going."

"I know. Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching."

"Good. Watch for something just for you when I score."

"When?" Her clear laughter echoed in his ear, warming him more than it should. He smiled in response, even though she couldn’t see him. "Getting a little cocky, aren’t you?"

"But of course,
ma chère
. And you love me for it, eh?"

"JP—"

"I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow."

JP stabbed his finger against the screen, ending the call. What the fuck was wrong with him? His heart still pounded in his chest, too strong, too heavy, too fast.

He didn’t know where the words had come from, hadn’t even realized he was going to say them until they were already out there. No, it wasn’t a declaration. Not even close. The words were nothing more than a light-hearted phrase, commonly used in everyday conversation. They meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So why did her response bother him so much? She hadn’t laughed, hadn’t joked. There had been a pause there. Not a long one, but long enough for him to hear. And then his name, spoken in her soft voice, too quiet and too serious. Hesitant, like she wasn’t sure how to respond.

He had meant the words as a joke. Hadn’t he? Of course he had. Nothing more than light-hearted banter. A commonly-used phrase. Certainly nothing else.

Surely she knew that. Didn’t she?

But he had cut her off, ended the conversation before she could say anything. Or before he could say anything?

Fuck. He didn’t know, didn’t know if he wanted to know.

"You okay?"

JP tossed the phone into his bag then looked over at Randy. "Fine. Why?"

"You look like you’re ready to hurl."

"I’m fine." JP grabbed a roll of tape and his stick, intent on losing himself in the ritual. He need to clear his mind, focus on the game ahead.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?"

JP bit back a scathing comment when Mat lowered himself to the bench and began working on his own stick. He wanted peace right now. Time to be left alone, to get his mind where it needed to be.

"Nothing is wrong."

"You sure? You look pale. You’re not getting sick, are you?"

"No, you idiot. Leave me alone."

Randy laughed and took a seat on JP’s other side, completely ignoring his request to be left alone. He thought about moving, finding someplace quieter. But what good would it do? It wouldn’t—especially since there really wasn’t any place he could go to be left alone. Brad, their back-up goalie, had dibs on the only quiet room available right now, preparing for the game ahead since Alec was at the hospital, waiting on the imminent birth of his first child.

No, JP was not going to allow his mind to go there. He shoved the thought, the regret, from his mind and focused on taping his stick, smoothing the edges, testing it.

"Are you coming tomorrow night?"

JP didn’t bother looking at Randy. "What’s tomorrow?"

"We’re having a celebration gathering at The Maypole for Alec and AJ. You know, for the baby. You should bring Emily, finally introduce her to everyone."

"I don’t know. Maybe."

"No maybe. Bring her. It’ll be fun."

JP tore off the strip of tape and tossed the roll down. Fun. Probably not. He wasn’t sure he wanted to introduce Emily to the team. Not yet. Not because introducing her was the same as announcing the seriousness of their relationship. Not because he didn’t want his teammates fawning over her, telling her stories, teasing him.

Well, mostly not. But to bring her to a gathering to celebrate a birth? No. He didn’t think he could do that. Not to either one of them. But he didn’t tell Randy that. He couldn’t, not without explaining. That wasn’t something he wanted to do.

"We’ll see."

"Think about it. This is the team’s first baby, after all."

Mat leaned forward, interrupting them. "I don’t know, Randy. I mean, dude, seriously? You really think they’re going to be there? What if the kid isn’t even born by then?"

"Of course AJ won’t be there. Idiot. But Alec might stop by."

JP didn’t bother to hide his grin or his skepticism. "You think he’s going to stop at your sister’s bar after having his first kid? That AJ would be cool with that? Really?"

Randy shrugged, his smile letting JP know that he knew better. "Doesn’t matter, we can still celebrate without them. For now, anyway."

Mat leaned forward again, his brows lowered in a frown as he looked from Randy to JP and back again. "Isn’t that kind of, I don’t know, pushing something? I mean, what if something happens? What if there’s complications and the baby doesn’t—"

JP didn’t think, just shot off the bench and punched Mat in the shoulder, hard enough to send him flying backward. "
P
utain de salaud!
Why would you say that? You don’t say something like that, put something like that out there!
Merde
.
Mère de Dieu
! What the fuck?"

A hand tightened around his arm, the grip vice-tight, pulling him back. "Whoa, JP. What the hell?"

JP shrugged off Randy’s hand and stepped away, each breath a harsh gasp ripped from his chest, burning, aching. He shook his head, ran one hand through his hair. But his hand was shaking. Both of them. He folded his hands into fists, trying to hide the heavy tremors. Christ, even his legs were shaking. He needed to sit down but he couldn’t, couldn’t stay still long enough. He needed to move, to get out, get away.

But Randy and Mat followed him into the shower room, both of them looking bewildered. And worried. He almost laughed but bit it back as he moved to the sink and splashed cold water on his face.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." JP looked up, saw their reflections in the mirror in front of him, one on either side. Fuck. He didn’t need this now, not from either one of them. His eyes slid to the side and met Mat’s bewildered gaze in the reflection. "Really. I’m fine. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean—"

"You’re full of shit. What’s going on?"

"Nothing." JP racked his mind, searching for an excuse they would believe. He forced a smile as he moved away from the sink. "French superstition. That’s all. I overreacted, eh? No problem."

Randy stepped in front of him, blocking his way. "That was more than overreaction. And definitely not superstition. What gives?"

"Nothing. I told you."

"Yeah, that’s why your hands are shaking like that."

"It’s nothing—"

"Oh holy shit. You knocked her up, didn’t you?"

JP froze, an expression of horror crossing his face at Mat’s exclamation. No. There was no way Mat could know. He hadn’t even been on the team back then, hadn’t even been drafted. How could he know?

He couldn’t know, of that JP was certain. And Mat wasn’t talking about five years ago. He was talking about now, nothing more than a crazy guess, a wild shot. And if JP didn’t do something, say something, that wild shot was going to bounce right off the pipes and slide into the back of the net without being stopped.

"Herron, what the fuck?" Randy pushed against Mat, not hard, more like a shove of disbelief. JP tried to take advantage of the distraction and stepped to the side just as Randy turned to look at him.

He saw the expression on Randy’s face, one of impatience and disbelief, like he was silently telling JP how insane Mat was for even saying such a thing. But Randy must have seen something in JP’s face because his expression changed. Slowly, just a bit at a time, until slow realization settled over him.

"Not now. Before. Shit."

JP leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, not knowing what to say. Deny it? No, he couldn’t do that, not now. Neither one of them would believe him. And he didn’t want to lie, not anymore.

A hand closed over his shoulder, brief but reassuring. "What happened?"

JP opened his eyes and met Randy’s gaze, steady and unjudging. He glanced at Mat, saw his confusion, his concern.

"
Putain
." JP scrubbed his hands over his face then ran them back through his hair. "Emily miscarried when she was four months pregnant."

Mat’s low whistle echoed off the tile in the sprawling room. "That sucks. What happened then?"

"What happened? Christ. Nothing happened, Heron. We stopped seeing each other."

"And now you’re back together? Really? Isn’t that, like, I don’t know. A little weird?"

JP and Randy both turned to look at Mat, their expressions of disbelief identical. Randy shook his head and mumbled something under his breath, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"This is why you will always stay single, Herron. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘the one who got away’?"

"Well yeah but…wait. So you’re actually serious about this woman? Is that why you kept stalking her?"

JP pushed past Mat, not willing to answer the questions. Hell, he had already said too much. He had never planned on telling anyone about what happened five years ago; he wasn’t sure why he just had.

And as far as Randy’s comment about ‘the one who got away’…yeah, he wasn’t even going to think about that one. He couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Not after his conversation with Emily. Not after that stupid comment.

Randy and Mat walked past him, grabbing their gear and sticks. JP followed, deliberately moving slower, wanting to put distance between them. His ploy didn’t work because both men stopped to wait for him.

"About tomorrow night. I still think you should stop by. Bring Emily. It’ll be fun."

"Yeah. I’ll think about it." JP grabbed his stick and pushed past both of them. Sure, he’d think about it.

But his answer would be the same.