Page 103 of Play Dirty

“Marty, wait.” I hear her voice and slow down but don’t look back.

“You don’t have to talk to her,” Madeline says quietly.

“But I do. We share children.” I steel myself and turn around slowly.

“Can we talk?” Brenna asks.

“Now you want to talk?”

She sighs. “Philippe thought…”

“Philippe thought? What did he think?” I demand. “That breaking me up with my new girlfriend would somehow get you something?”

“He thought it might help with the custody hearing, discrediting her. And you.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe. Philippe has never liked kids. He was very clear about that whenever us guys who had kids talked about them, saying shit like, ‘that’s never going to be me’ or ‘better you than me.’ So don’t tell me that he’s suddenly not only had a change of heart, but he’s head over heels for kids that aren’t even his.”

Her cheeks turn red, but she lifts her chin defiantly. “He loves me. And them.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” I mutter.

“Why do you have to be right all the time?” she demands. “I mean, you don’t know him like I know him. Why can’t you accept that he’s good for me? And the kids?”

“I don’t give a fuck if he’s good for you or not,” I reply. “I just care about my kids, and I’m not going to let you keep them in Tennessee where I can only see them in the off-season.” I pause dramatically. “And let’s be clear, Bren—you know damn well you’re going to be a single mom once hockey season starts. Because he’s not going to be hands-on like I was on his days off. He’s going to rest, train, see the chiropractor, and expect you to keep the household running.”

She doesn’t respond, but her face is tight.

“My kids are going to be at the very bottom of his list of priorities…and when he realizes that they have to be yours, he’s going to dump you.”

Her face twists angrily. “This is why I left you—you’re always so mean!”

“Mean?” I stare at her. “I gave you fucking everything, Brenna. Everything. The house that cost more than we could reasonably afford. Nannies to help with the kids. Vacations. A family that?—”

“A family I never wanted!” she hisses.

“You never wanted our kids?” I ask, dumbfounded. “The babies we dreamed about making? The babies you were so excited to have when we talked about our future?”

“The first baby,” she says, tears filling her eyes. “Once I realized how hard it was, how much time they took—how each pregnancy ruined my body—I wanted to stop. Or slow down.”

“But you never said a word.”

“Because it’s what you wanted!” she cries out. “I thought I had to or you would leave me.”

“But instead, you left me.” I shake my head. “I admit I could have done things differently, probably communicated a lot better, but you’re a grown woman. You weren’t a prisoner. You should have told me how you felt instead of fucking one of my teammates and tearing apart the lives of three innocent children.”

She glares at me.

There’s pain and regret and worry in her eyes.

I know her. Not as well as I once thought, but we were together more than ten years. I know her moods and when she’s scared.

And right now, she’s scared.

It occurs to me that this is my chance.

“What will it take, Brenna?” I ask quietly, grateful for Madeline’s presence.

“For what?” Brenna asks.

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