He’s not. Wade’s more special than he gives himself credit for.
Marcus clears his throat and sends us on our way with some parting words, “You may have caused me worry and stress this past year, Wade, but Zane has been a thorn in my side his entire life. Unlike him, you listen to me. I’m so sorry about this evening, Kali.”
We don’t speak for the rest of the drive home, but Wade holds me, dropping kisses on top of my head every now and again until we arrive at my house where he carries me up the path, through the door and into the shower.
With tenderness, like handling a newborn baby, he helps me undress, stepping into the shower with me, washing the rotten memories of the evening down the drain where they belong.
Afterward, he dries my body, then my hair. Stylists aside, no man has ever done that for me before. In silence, he cares for me, tucks me into bed and slips beneath the sheets, cocooning me with his strong body, protecting me from the outside world.
Realization hits me as I drift off to sleep; I’m not as scared as I was about stepping into the unknown with him.
In fact, I’m not scared at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Wade
Wade Collins arrives with his publicist, Kali Roth at gala ball, further raising allegations they are dating
Edmonton Eagles owner, Marcus Edwards, confirms ‘disappointing’ injury blow for son, Zane Edwards, out for the rest of the season
Unable to sleep, I’m in Kali’s home gym, wearing only my boxers. I’m hoping to sweat out the anger coursing through my bloodstream following Zane’s attack on Kali last night.
Feeling the need to punch something, or hunt Zane down and knock the shit out of him, I opted to go down the less violent path of an intense workout. One because Jordy’s right, Zane’s a provoker. He’s desperate to get me in trouble and wants me to fuck up, and two, I don’t want to leave Kali alone. She needs me.
I texted Lola when we arrived here last night, asking if she could drop off clean clothes for me this morning, and to pick upmy tuxedo for dry cleaning. Replying instantly, she assured me she’d be here first thing, which should be anytime now. I hope she is, or I have nothing to wear today. Plus, I have plans and I can’t exactly do them if I’m naked.
With ten miles under my belt from running on the treadmill and another hour’s worth of working out using Kali’s fancy fitness bike with interactive screen and online classes, I’m currently hanging upside down on the wall mounted pull up bar doing stomach crunches.
Legs wrapped around the bar above, not ready to quit, because I’m still livid with myself for not being there to stop Zane from hurting Kali last night. I count fifty in my head and keep going.
Huffing and puffing from exertion, sweat beads across my skin. Hands crossed over my chest, every lift upward, my stomach muscles contract and scream at me to stop, but I ignore them, imagining head butting Zane’s face on every curl up.
If Marcus was serious about cutting him from the team for the rest of the season, then I won’t have to see him every day, which makes me feel marginally better.
The hate I have for him is like a cancer in my life I can’t beat. With space and time away from him now, maybe it’s possible. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking on my behalf.
“Sixty-two,” Kali announces in a gravelly tone that instantly has my back up. The aftermath of Zane’s actions is longer lasting than I would like. “That looks so hard. How many are you doing?” I hang there until she comes into view.
Barefoot, wrapped in a long black velvet bathrobe, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, she looks beautiful this morning. She steals my breath away every time I see her.
“As many as it takes to stop the fire of hell from rotting my gut.” I puff and pant, then wipe my hand over my face as sweat threatens to cloud my sight. “Although since you walkedinto the room, it feels like it was extinguished.” She’s like my own personalized herbal remedy; unique, calming, and has an immediate effect.
“C’mere.” I hold my hand out and beckon her to me.
“You’re all hot and sweaty.” Reluctantly, she moves toward my damp body.
Within arm’s length, from upside down, I slide my hand up between her tie and robe and pull her slowly to me, being careful not to jerk her body or hurt her. She’ll be sore today.
My usually strong girl looks much smaller and fragile, making it seem like her robe is drowning her.
“Morning, beautiful.” I pull her close and give her an awkward upside-down kiss.
“You taste salty.”
“You taste like honey.”
Grabbing my face, she kisses me again with a sleepy smile. “You have no clothes on.” I don’t except from my black boxers.