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He’s staring at me, and I’m staring right back. I feel uneasy about the way he’s looking at me. Yes, I’m the one who’s technically invading his space, but it was just as much my space last evening, and that’s his own damn fault. Then again, if I weren’t so desperate to catch a glimpse of him again, I wouldn’t be knocking on his door.
“I need to find a way to repay you,” he adds.
“Excuse me?” I watch as he fishes in his duffle bag for his wallet and starts counting out some bills.
“I don’t want your money. I looked after your children because I didn’t want to see them left alone, unsupervised. Or worse.” It comes out without thinking, and I know how brash I sound. I don’t know him, and he’s been through a shitstorm with his nanny. I'm being harsh. He’s apologized, so I should really let it be, but I can’t. I’m worried, because there’s no nanny to protect these kids. And based on the way Tristan acted last night, I’m not sure if they have a very attentive father, either.
He holds out his hand as his cellphone starts to ring shrilly. “One minute, Faith. I’ve got to take this call.” He moves past me, heading toward the bathroom.
This is my time to run, I think. I made a mistake in coming here, and everything inside me is willing me to get out of here as quickly as I can. He’s playing me, and this nice-guy act is just that—an act. He doesn’t actually appreciate me or what I did, he’s just relieved he got through it without the cops getting involved.
And now he’s offering me money, purely because I’m the one who helped him get away with it.
Chapter Seven
Tristan
“Mom, are you sure?”
She sounds frail on the phone, and I feel selfish for even asking her to come to the game.
“Yes,” she assures me. “I’m fine, I swear. See, I didn’t want you to be worried about me. I just had a fall. Then, the doctor was worried about a blood clot, and I had to have a few tests. But, I’m just here resting. Your father refuses to leave my side. Tristan, are you there?”
“Yes,” I say, my throat thick with emotion. I’m trying to take it all in, everything she’s saying. First, I lose my nanny—which isn’t such a fucking loss considering what she did, but still—and now my mom is sick.
I have a game in three days and my head’s fucking spinning. I can’t do this. “Mom, I think I should come home…”
Before I have a chance to say another word, she scoffs at the notion. “No way. You’ve got to get to Colorado and make us proud. Remember when they said Tristan Wright couldn’t make a comeback? You showed them that you could, and we’re so proud of you for that.”
I want to tell her the truth—that it’s not just about her fall. That I have no one to look after the kids. They should be going to school, but there’s no way that I can send them home alone.
But, to put that on Mom right now would be low, even for me. And completely, utterly selfish. What a fucking mess. “Mom, just keep me in the loop as to how you’re doing, okay?”
I can practically hear her smile on the other end of the phone. “Tristan, you go make us proud, and I’ll see you soon. Okay?”
I nod. “Sure. Love you.”
She hangs up, and I slump against the bathtub, wondering how and what I’m going to tell my coach. I need to get out of here. My kids didn’t come first last night. But they sure as hell will today.
* * *
There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and I look at the time. Shit, we should be getting ready to head down to breakfast and out of here.
“Come in.”
Faith’s dark eyes appear as the door creaks open slowly. I’m sitting on the edge of the bathtub, but I stand up immediately at the sight of her, feeling silly about the way I’ve treated her to date. I don’t even know her, and already I’ve left my kids with her, taken advantage of her kindness, and then offended her by offering her money.
“The kids are ready to go to breakfast. I need to go.”
I’ve been such an asshole to her, and yet she’s still looking after my kids, going above and beyond when I’ve shown little appreciation. “Sure, of course. We really need to be going home, too.”
She shuts the door behind her, locking us in the tiny space together.
“But you have a game in Colorado. How come you’re going home?”
I find her statement a bit strange. She lives in Boston. I thought she’d follow her home team, not the opposition.
“I know, but there’s no one to look after the kids since Isobel…” I can’t even say it out loud. “Since she did what she did. I need to put those two first.” A sigh escapes my lips. “I shouldn’t have left you with them the way I did last night, Faith. I know that. And I’m sorry. I really do mean that. It was an asshole thing to do. Especially when I didn’t even thank you for looking after them during the game, seeing as Isobel couldn’t be bothered to do it herself.”
