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Troy looked at her. “What?”
“It’s been fifteen years. You’ve repaired your relationship with your parents. You have a successful career with a well-respected organization. But you can’t let go of your anger toward your ex-wife.”
He scowled. “No, I can’t.”
She pulled the sheet tighter around her. “Are you still in love with her?”
“God, no.” His tone more than his words helped her breathe again.
She considered his stiff stance and furrowed brow. “Then why can’t you let go of the past?”
“I have.” Troy passed her to enter his large, adjoining bathroom. The muscles in his back, butt, and legs flexed and relaxed with each stride.
Andrea shivered, still clutching the bedsheet. He may think he’d let go of his past, but he hadn’t. Her eyes strayed toward the rumpled bed. Being with Troy had been wonderful, even knowing the risks. Professionally, if he returned to the Monarchs, their intimacy could affect their working relationship. Personally, she knew she’d need more than a one-night stand. But would his lack of trust destroy any chance of their having a long-term relationship?
14
“Did you get me to come over here so I could thank you for letting me stay at your place Tuesday night?” Barron stared at a wedge of his dry wheat toast with tired, red eyes.
Troy watched in amusement as Barron studiously avoided looking across the table at him or his breakfast.
“Bling, it’s Saturday morning. If your gratitude were that important to me, I’d have as
ked you four days ago.” Troy scooped his fluffy scrambled eggs.
“Then why am I here?” Barron bit into the crispy slice of toast. His movements were sluggish and careful.
Troy scanned the restaurant. The weekend crowd was thin. That’s why Troy had asked Barron to meet him at eight o’clock. Most people were either still in bed or eating breakfast at home. He was surprised Barron had agreed to the early call. From the window on his left, Troy could see the Empire Arena two blocks away.
“The Monarchs could be swept out of the play-offs in the first series.” He lifted the eggs to his lips.
Barron paled and looked away. He took a shaky breath. “We’ve only played three of the seven games.”
“And you’ve lost all of them. It’s the best of seven, Barron. Tomorrow night, you have your second home game of the series.”
“I know how the play-offs work.” Barron swallowed more toast.
Troy lowered his fork. “Then you know if you don’t win, you’re done for the season.”
Barron sighed, rubbing his forehead. “What’s your point?”
“Are you going to play any of those games without a hangover?”
Barron pushed aside the plate with what remained of his toast and glared at Troy. “You’re blaming me for our losses? There are twelve other guys on that team.”
Troy ignored the rest of his scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. “You’re the only one drinking your way through the play-offs. Are you doing drugs, too?”
“I’m not.” Barron looked indignant.
Troy studied Barron’s bloodshot eyes and drawn features. The other man was drinking himself into oblivion even on his off nights. “Your drinking’s affecting your game. Have you noticed?”
“I’m entitled to an off game.”
“No. You’re not.” He thought back to what Andrea had said about her drinking problem. “What’s bugging you, Bling?”
Barron gulped his second mug of coffee. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
Troy knew the other man was lying. His body language screamed I have a hangover. His lack of eye contact said he had a secret. “Then why are you getting drunk every night of the week?”
