Dirty Score, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel (20 page)

R
afe didn’t feel
up to any challenge as he walked the hall toward Mia’s hotel room several hours later.

Joe had brought him back to the hotel from the ER, and Rafe had passed out in his room sometime around three a.m.

Only seven a.m. now, he knew it was too early to be pounding on Mia’s door, but he couldn’t sleep. And he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t stop spinning all his mistakes around in his mind. Couldn’t stop trying to find a way to ease the pain he’d caused and repair the damage he’d done.

And when he wound his way around a laundry service cart in the hallway and approached Mia’s door with no answers, he surveyed a spot on the floor at the bottom of the wall beside her door and prepared to sit. But when he put his hand against the wall for support to help him get to that spot without falling on his face, he noticed a gap between the door and the frame. Following that space to the door handle, he found it ajar.

Alarm jumped in his chest. He checked the room numbers first, and when he was sure it was hers, Rafe put his fingertips against the door and eased it open. “Mia?”

A female voice with a Spanish inflection returned some sort of answer Rafe didn’t understand, and he opened the door wide enough to find a woman in a housekeeping uniform pulling sheets from the bed.

She smiled at him. “Oh. Hello. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” From the short hallway leading to the room, he scanned the space. All her things were gone. Her suitcase, her computer, all her charging cords.

She was gone? Mia was gone?

“Is your room?” the housekeeper asked in broken English. “You need be here? I go?”

A wave of sadness hit him so hard, tears flooded his eyes in an instant. He blinked fast to hold them back and rubbed a hand down his face. “No,” he told her, his voice rough. “Thank you. It’s fine.”

Rafe backed out of the room and kept on moving until he hit the wall across the hallway, where he stood and stared at the floor, trying to figure out what the hell was going on inside him.

He’d assumed the texts and voice mails he’d left after talking with Joe at the hospital had gone unanswered because she’d been asleep. But that obviously wasn’t the case. And while he knew she had every right to be hurt and angry and even to move on with her life and never look back, he never realized until this moment that he never thought she really would.

He’d also never realized just how devastating that would feel. How very different it felt for him to walk away from someone—even Mia—than to be the one left behind. And how often Mia had experienced that. All because she’d loved Rafe too much to fully give herself to anyone else.

Lifting both hands, he covered his face and rested his head.

Should I just let her go?

The thought twisted the knife in his gut. Rafe couldn’t ever remember a time when he’d reached out for Mia when she hadn’t been there.

“I won’t accept anything less than 150 percent in any of my relationships anymore. And this time, I’m going to be the one to walk away.”

She’d made that hard call in the face of extreme pressure. Rafe knew it had to have been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. And now that she’d taken that step and made the break, maybe it would be better for Mia if he just…

“Are you fucking
meditating
?”

The familiar grouchy voice pulled Rafe’s head up and to the left. He moved too fast, and his head swam. He pitched sideways and grabbed the nearest doorframe, catching himself.

“You think you can communicate telepathically with her or something?” Tate prodded in that bitchy, condescending tone he used when he was annoyed and fed up. But at least he wasn’t livid. At least he wasn’t coming after Rafe, pinning him to the floor, and beating the shit out of him again. “’Cause if you get down on your knees and start chanting, I’m calling security.”

“Shut up.”

A room door between them opened, and an older man looked out, his face scrunched into an irate scowl. “Both of you shut up. People are still trying to sleep.”

And he slammed the door.

“Not anymore,” both Rafe and Tate said in unison. Then laughed at the same time.

And just like that, the ice was broken. But the chunks were still floating between them, cold and sharp. And Rafe didn’t even care. He just wanted Mia. Only he hadn’t figured out if going after her was the right thing to do.

Rafe walked past the complainer’s room and leaned his hip against the wall between Grumpy’s door and Mia’s. His lifelong friend stood there, far more contrite today. Joe had a way of pulling both him and Tate back to earth quickly. But their fights had always been with others, never with each other. And their fights had never been this extreme, this hurtful, or this personal. Rafe didn’t know what would happen to their friendship, which was another painful spot in his life.

“We were going to tell you—” Rafe started.

“After the season ended,” Tate finished. “I know.”

So he’d talked to Mia. That part was good, though Tate didn’t look relieved or happy or even any more settled.

Rafe added, “And we didn’t mean for it to—”

“Become anything,” Tate completed his sentence again. “Mia told me she seduced you and why.” He paused only a split second before his face compressed into a scowl and his hand whipped out with a rigid finger pointed at Rafe’s nose. “But you still should have said no.”

Rafe lifted both hands in surrender. “I should have. I can’t count how many times I’ve said that to myself over the last couple of weeks.” A moment of awkward silence existed before Rafe asked, “So, did you two—”

“Make up?” He huffed a humorless laugh. “Hardly.” Tate looked at a spot beyond Rafe’s shoulder. “In time maybe…”

That didn’t bode well for Rafe’s chances at forgiveness. His heart dropped even lower.

He pushed off the wall. “I’m gonna go pack. Catch an early flight back. Maybe I can think of something in the next seven to ten hours to say or do that will convince her to at least sit down and talk to me—”

“When did you become such a girl?” Tate asked, giving him a disgusted look. “What’s all this talking shit. ‘Let’s talk about this.’” He lifted his voice to imitate a female. “‘I wanna talk about that.’” His voice dropped to his pissed tone again. “What happened to the guy I knew before Mia got ahold of your balls? The guy who took action when he wanted something? The guy who just shut up and went after it?”

Tate dropped his arms and straightened from the doorframe. “You keep that attitude, and we’re gonna have to change your last name from Savage to Pussy.”

Rafe laughed, relieved to see the return of Tate’s good-natured insolence.

“Go on. Get out of here,” he told Rafe. “But if you want to do that talking bullshit, you’ll have to do it over the phone from the East Coast, ’cause she didn’t go back.”

“What?” Rafe’s attention laser focused again. “Where did she go?”

“To her apartment here. Said there was no reason to go back. Called her boss last night and told him she’d start work early.” Tate turned around and started down the hall toward the elevators. “See you back at home.” But then he stopped and looked at Rafe again. “Oh, and I think this goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway because I’m not going to leave anything left unsaid between us from here on out.” He turned deadly serious again. “You cheat on her, you bail on her, you hurt her in any way, you’ll answer to me. And when you
really
answer to me, you’ll need to retire, because last night will look like a fucking picnic.”

He walked away and disappeared down another hallway, but Rafe wasn’t thinking about Tate’s threats. He was consumed with the realization that she’d already made up her mind. She’d already turned her back on the possibility of working it out with Rafe. She’d already given up on him.

Mia was gone.

* * *

M
ia scrolled
through images of filming shots from Cynthia on her phone, enlarging a few to study the construction detail. She was exhausted from too little sleep and too much crying, and the sun and wind on the beach weren’t helping her burning eyes. But she was desperate for anything to keep her mind busy, and she’d done as much moving in as she could handle.

She wasn’t going back to the apartment until Cynthia called her and told her UPS had picked up everything she and Rafe had bought on their one-day shopping trip together.

Tapping one image closed, Mia shaded her eyes, scrolled through the costumes, and opened another. Before she could magnify it, a text pinged her phone from Faith, Grant’s girlfriend:
I have at least a dozen people who want jerseys like mine. So do all the other girls. And I had brunch with Ted at the Crofts’ this morning. When he heard you’d approached Silver with your designs and not him, honest to God, you’d think someone just told him the Riders lost the playoffs.

Mia laughed, but it hurt. God, she was going to miss everyone. Sure, they were still close now, but she knew how time came between people. Distanced people. And knowing she would eventually lose this hurt.

She dug her toes into the warm sand, tossed her blowing hair over her shoulder, but when she went to respond, she didn’t know what to say. So she ended up sending Faith a sad emoji.

Miss you. When will you be back?
Faith asked.

“Ah crap.” Mia dropped an elbow to her knee and her forehead to her hand. She hadn’t thought about that when she’d made the decision to stay.

She hadn’t said good-bye to anyone in DC. And once she started working here… By the sounds of it, Mia wouldn’t get a break until they had to legally give her a break, which would be two weeks’ vacation every year and a few holidays.

Shit.

She might need to push back her start date a day or two. Sneak in a quick flight back east just to see the girls and say good-bye. Sure, Rafe and Tate would hear about it, but Mia would be gone by then. She just wanted to see a few people personally before she didn’t see them again for, hell, probably a year. Tina, Eden, Faith, Sarah, Amy, Rachel, Lily…

Amy, Rachel, Lily.

Her heart broke a little more. They’d be so different in a year. Mia wouldn’t know their sizes or their color preferences like she did now. How could she make outfits for little girls whose tastes changed on a whim when she saw them only once a year?

Would they even remember Mia in a year?

Then she thought of another year without seeing Rafe. Thought back over how miserable she’d been this last year…

A fresh wave of loss tumbled through her and the tears she’d been fighting for hours rose up in her throat. She let her gaze drift to the ocean.

“Suck it up,” she murmured to herself. Everyone moves on. If one of the players got traded, they’d be leaving just like she was leaving. No one was going to watch out for Mia but Mia. That was abundantly clear. It was her own damn fault it had taken her so long to see it.

Mia filled her lungs with the fresh sea air and forced a perspective change. The water was so blue. The waves so serene. The sun so warm. The air so mild.

She could be happy here.

She
would
be happy here.

She was losing friends and family back east, but she would gain new friends here. Find new opportunities. And, maybe, someday, even create a family of her own.

Until then, work would help fill this hole inside her.

Eventually.

So why were those damn tears choking her again?

“Hey.”

The voice so close behind her when she thought she was alone startled Mia. In the split second between registering the voice and turning, she knew who she would face before her eyes met his. But knowing and seeing were two different things, and Mia’s heart still banged hard against her rib cage. Then it raced and fluttered and squeezed. All her thoughts came to a dead stop, and confusion reeled her brain in a whole different direction. She looked behind him toward the road as if that would explain what he was doing here.

“You are one difficult woman to find,” he said, lowering to the sand beside her in slow, pain-filled movements. “Do you realize how big this beach is?” Once he settled, he dropped the running shoes he was carrying. “Or how small you are? Even when Cynthia gave me an idea of where you were going, it was still like that whole needle-in-a-haystack thing.”

She angled toward him, wincing at the way his injuries looked as the healing process began. That was never a pretty sight. “You went to my apartment?” She shook her head. “
What
in the hell are you doing here? You should be landing in DC right now.”

“But you’re not in DC.”

She lifted her hands. “So?”

“So that’s why I’m not in DC.”

What the hell?
Mia pressed her hands to the sides of her head and forced her brain to stop spinning. “I’m not fighting with you, Rafe. I don’t have the interest or the energy.”

“Thank God for that, because neither do I.”

A bubble of anger burst inside her. “Look, I can’t do this. I don’t want to drag this out. I just want us to get on with our lives.”

Rafe pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, failing to hold a groan back when he moved. But when he turned his head and leveled that silvery gaze on her, his eyes were clear, his expression, even marred with bruises and cuts, relaxed. Far different from the man she’d seen last night.