Page 88 of The Worst Pucking Deal

Thoughts about Fabian’s anger assault me, and the memories of the ways he punished me makes it hard to think about anything else. It takes all my willpower to replace his face with Sy’s in my mind’s eye, and that’s when it hits me. I know how to make up for my lies. It won’t be pleasant, but that’s okay. He’s my chosen husband, and I can endure some pain for him.

Sawyer

Idon’t think I’ve ever showered and changed this quickly before. While Coach talks about our win, I can’t keep my eyes off the door. All I want to do is leave with my sweet bunny, and not having her at my side is making me restless.

Seeing her tonight made me realize how much I’ve missed her. And for once, I’m glad she didn’t do as I said, because seeing her here, in that crop-sweater or whatever… cheering for me. Not only was it hot as fuck, but it also made me realize just how much I’ve missed her. Sure, four days without her pussy has left me with blue balls, but it’s more than that. I’ve missed her; her laughter, the way she hogs the sheet, the cute noises she makes when deep in sleep.

Mickey was right; I needed to get my head out of my ass and see the truth. I’m so fucking in love with my wife, consumed by her in ways I never thought possible. I need to tell her I’m sorry.

“Good game, guys. The press are waiting for us, so we should get out there,” Coach says, walking over to the door and holding it open for us as we file out.

When we walk around the corner, I discreetly fall behind, and the moment everyone is in front of me, I double back and walk out the opposite door where I know Lucia’s waiting for me.

“Sy,” she breathes, her whole face lighting up as she speaks my name.

“Sweet bunny.” I grin, taking her hand. “We have to leave quickly or they’ll come looking for me.”

Lucia looks up at me. “Huh? Why?”

What does she mean why? She knows my schedule, as everyone on the PR team does. As soon as I think that, I realize just how much I’ve messed up. I forgot she lost her job the day Fabian outed her to Tom and Jo. The thought makes me feel even worse about ignoring her. I should have been there to make sure she was okay. “There’s a press conference,” I explain as we leave through the back door.

We make it to my car without anyone stopping us, and we waste no time getting the hell out of there. As we drive through the mostly empty streets, I can’t shake the weight of my own actions, the guilt that gnaws at me for avoiding my sweet bunny for days on end.

I steal a glance at her, the woman who holds my heart in her hands. “I’m sorry,” I rush out.

“You’re sorry?” she scoffs. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Shaking my head, I take her hand and press a kiss to the back. “No, baby. I’m the one who’s sorry for running away like a fucking pussy. I should have stayed so we could talk. I should have been there for you after you lost your job.”

I can feel her eyes bore into me, but she doesn’t speak until I’ve parked and we’re in the elevator. “I don’t care about the job,” she finally answers. “All I care about is us, Sy.”

No words can express the way it feels to hear those words. So instead of cheapening the moment, I push her against the elevator wall and press my lips to hers. Her arms immediately wrap around my middle, and she’s tangling her fingers in the fabric of my suit jacket like she’s afraid I’ll leave her.

I want to laugh at the absurdity of that thought. I can’t leave her any more than I can cut out my own heart and continue breathing. She’s it for me, and I want—crave—to be the same for her. Each swipe of my tongue is my way of telling her exactly that.

We end the kiss when the elevator doors slide open, and together we enter our apartment. After closing the door behind us, Lucia stays near it. Her eyes dart between me and the bedroom. Furrowing my brows, I sit down on the couch, patting the space next to me. “Come over here,” I rasp.

Lifting her chin, she looks at me. “Are you going to shout at me?”

“What?”

I only now notice the way her clenched hands tremble. “I won’t fight with you, Sy,” she whispers. “So if you’re angry you can…” Pausing, she swallows audibly. Then her eyes lock on to mine. “If you promise not to leave a scar you can take it out on my body. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Where’s this coming from?” I ask, trying my damndest to keep my tone calm. “Tell me what you’re thinking, sweet bunny. I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to fight. I want us to talk like equals.”

She shakes her head. “I lied to you, Sy. I manipulated you and tried to… I was going to use you as a pawn in my game. We can’t be equals until you make me pay for that.”

Despite her words, uncertainty flickers in her eyes as I stand and make my way over to her. Her breath hitches as I reach for her, gently cupping her cheek. “You’re my wife,” I rasp. “I don’t give a fuck how it came to be. It happened, and I won’t change it for the world.”

Looking into her green eyes, I feel as though I can see the version of her that’s scared. The one Fabian obviously created by mistreating her. I hate him. Hate him for having had her, for hurting her, and for daring to speak to her at the game. The mere idea of him near her fills me with a primal rage that I struggle to contain.

“What did he do to you?” I ask, needing to know the full truth. Not bits and pieces, not a watered down version. All of it.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, stealing herself. When she opens her eyes again, they’re emotionless orbs of nothing. There’s no hint of my bunny in there at all. “I was given to Fabian, and on my sixteenth birthday, I married him—”

“You fucking what?” I roar, letting go of her so I don’t accidentally hurt her. “You were just a child.” Disgust coats my words as anger licks at my insides.

Ignoring my outburst, Lucia keeps talking. “My mom was excited by the match, my dad not so much. He actually tried to get me out of it, which cost him his life.”

---