Page 20 of Play Dirty

“What about mine?” he asks quietly.

“You chose her. But you also chose to prioritize hockey and your children.”

He sucks in a breath so sharp it’s almost like I hit him. “Is that…” He breaks off, his eyes searching mine. “Is that what I did? Put hockey and the kids before her?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “That’s what it sounds like. It wasn’t intentional, but I think that’s what happened. And instead of talking to you, or articulating what she was feeling, she chose to find solace with another man.”

“Fuck.” He looks heartbroken, almost beaten down, and I hate that.

“I’m sorry,” I say contritely. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“No.” He looks away. “I needed to hear it. I had a therapist try to tell me something like that, but I changed therapists, found someone who made me feel better. But I guess that’s not working.”

“I’ve been in therapy for eight months,” I say. “And we’ve had really hard conversations about my role in what happened to me. Not listening when literally everyone I knew warned me. Not leaving when I had the chance, because I was too busy fantasizing about my Paris wedding. Not making sure I was protected against pregnancy. So many bad choices I made in the name of love...”

“And what does your therapist tell you to do?”

“I’m working on not hating myself anymore,” I whisper, dropping my gaze. “Not berating myself for being stupid.”

“You’re not responsible for a man hurting you.”

“I could have—should have—gotten out long before it came to that. He was always condescending and emotionally abusive. Then he became verbally abusive. In the end, he was physically abusive but it was too late. I was trying to leave him when he… threw me over the railing.” I swallow. I don’t talk about this outside of therapy anymore. It still hurts too much, but it’s the least I can do after being so brutally honest with Marty about his life.

“He walked in while you were packing?” he asks softly.

“We were literally coming out of the bedroom with my suitcases. He lost his mind when he realized I was leaving him. We argued and… he pushed me over the railing.” I stop, swallowing hard as I blink away tears. “Ivan got there just before it happened, he protected Chey first, because she was trying to help me. But the moment he moved Chey out of the way, I went over the railing. I don’t remember anything after that, until I woke up in the hospital.”

“God, I’m sorry, Stevie.” He slides an arm around my waist, pulling me against his side.

“It’s okay.”

It’s not, but what else can I say? I’ve been battling these demons—and memories—for eight months now. Sometimes it feels like I take one step forward and two steps back, but I’m still here. Still fighting for my future even though I have no idea what that looks like anymore.

“Things got a little dark,” he says after a moment. “I guess you’re going to say no if I ask you out again?”

I pause, looking up at him curiously. “Are you? Asking me to go out with you again?”

“I am.” He looks a little surprised, like he wasn’t planning to. “The truth is, I like you, Stevie. You’re easy to talk to. You’re honest with me, which is refreshing even though it can be a little painful. And you don’t complain about my dancing, which is huge.”

I like him too.

Maybe a little too much.

“Just as friends,” I say quickly. “Because that’s all it can be right now.”

“Believe me, I’m not even divorced. Friendship is all I can manage.”

“Then I’d like that,” I say. “Just, you know, no more weddings for a while. Please.”

He chuckles. “Deal. How about a group date to the carnival? Connor mentioned it and I was going to take the kids, but now I’m thinking a grown-up date might be more fun. Connor and Effie, and Canyon and Saylor. Everyone else is out of town, except Gabe and Harper, but Harper said she’s too pregnant to be outside in this heat for any extended period of time.”

“Oh, a carnival sounds fun!” I say. “When?”

“Thursday? I have to doublecheck with Connor.”

“I don’t have a lot going on right now, so I think it’ll be fine. I’ll check with Saylor about our schedule at the gallery, but it shouldn’t be a problem to close early.” I help Saylor at her art gallery but she’s been teaching art classes so our schedule is flexible.

“I haven’t been to a carnival in forever,” he says. “Though I do feel a little guilty about not taking the kids.”

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