Winning Streak (18 page)

Their excited conversations echoed down the hall until the dim background noise of the arena took over, leaving Saralynn with her thoughts.
He's fine. He'll be fine.
She moved aside for the Zambonis to get through but stayed close to the glass. Everyone in the press box was taken care of, and she had a walkie-talkie if anyone needed her.

The overhead lights went down so only the advertisement screens glowed, casting a blue tint over the whole rink. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the clean scent of fresh ice bringing her back to Reese's bantam days. The whole family would take up a first row bench and cheer him on. Shiloh and Sophie were actually nice to her. She was only five, but that's when she'd fallen in love with the game. When was the last time she'd really watched?

The Zambonis rolled off, and the officials reset the goal posts in their holes before the players returned. The Sinners were on her end of the ice this period, so she got a close-up view of her brother going through his rituals. He glided side to side in the crease, making traction marks exactly eleven times, hit his stick against each goal post as if crossing himself, then dropped into his game-on crouch. She smiled. Nice to know some things never changed.

The good vibrations stopped shortly after the horn sounded and the puck dropped. Within the first five minutes, the Sinners were down by another point, and it didn't look like it would get better.
Come on, Cole. Don't let Madden be right.
He was missing passes and shots on net. That never happened. Normally, Nealy would be screaming from behind the bench, but she just stood there, arms folded, face serious. That might be worse. Were they really going to lose for the first time in more than a month? If Bar Guy existed, he was about to make a lot of money.

And she'd have to clean it up.

Saturday, March 29th

I think I messed up
.

The words kept repeating in her brain, making her more and more irate. Last night, she couldn't even strategize because she couldn't be sure “Joe” would say anything. She wasn't about to inform the media the Sinners' assistant GM advised someone to bet against his own team just so she could get ahead of a shitstorm that might never make landfall.

Except—of course—it did.

By mid Saturday morning, the news reports had spread through the Internet like wildfire. Apparently Joe had won big betting against the Sinners, and he thanked Madden for it. Loudly. So now it was all hands on deck, and she had to talk to the one person she didn't want to deal with even more than Madden.

She allowed herself one long, silent scream, put her television on mute, and reached for her cell.

Jacey answered on the first ring. “I hope you have a plan because I'm officially out.”

Fantastic. “I just saw the news.” It wouldn't help anybody to let on that Jacey's brother had spilled his guts the night before. “This guy could be making everything up for his five minutes of fame.” Why was she still protecting Madden? He'd done this to himself. She'd messed up a lot, too, but one thing that had become clear in her time with the Sinners was the power of personal responsibility. If you didn't go looking for trouble, it had a harder time finding you.

“He's not making it up. I talked to Cole, and he said no one knew about his breakup but Madden. I can't believe he'd do that.” Except there wasn't disbelief in Jacey's tone. She sounded angry, disappointed, and resigned. But not surprised. “Forget for a minute that he publicly told a stranger to bet
against
his own team. He betrayed his best friend. What's happening to him?”

Saralynn didn't have an answer for that. Madden was breaking down and making bad choices. The gambling rumor had had a domino effect. Jacey played a part, though it was hard to say how big, but no one could deny his culpability. Not anymore.

“Let's fix what we can fix. I'll release a press statement tomorrow saying that Madden didn't advise anyone to do anything. The man simply asked him what was going on with Cole, and Madden told him. This'll blow over.”

And it would. News moved fast. The sharks would chew on this for a day or two, and then the next scandal would come along. Gossip wasn't the problem.

“That'll be fine. I trust your judgment.”

It was undeserved. Her judgment hadn't been stellar lately. Had she held back in the relationship because part of her had seen this coming? From the beginning, she'd known Madden was a wild card. Unpredictable and lost. She'd known getting involved with him was a risk.

There had been a glimmer of hope, a glimpse of who he could be, but good intentions didn't define people. Actions did. And she'd worked too hard to let anything get in the way of her progress. If he was so gung-ho on sinking his own ship, she didn't have to go down with him. She had to do what was right for herself, and this time it wasn't selfish. It wasn't.

That didn't make it hurt any less.

Vaughn Manor

The sound of heavy objects hitting the floor pulled Madden from deep sleep, but waking up didn't mean being completely aware. Not with a massive headache and what could only be a stomach full of battery acid. He rolled over on the couch and tried to remember. Surrender. The random conversation. Taxi home. Too many stairs to climb before crashing, so he'd ended up in the living room. That pattern needed to stop. His vision focused enough to see shapes. Those heavy objects were boxes landing on the foyer tile, flying in from the stairway to the second floor.

He stood with exaggerated slowness. The room didn't spin, and the carpet didn't sink like quicksand. Careful steps got him to the edge of the tile, where a heat-seeking hockey stick almost decapitated him. He ducked and just missed the follow-up duffle bag.

Cole stood at the top of the steps, chucking things down. “Move.”

“Hey. What are you doing?”

“I'm leaving. You can't tell?” He threw down another box that landed with a thump heavy enough to make the crystals shake on the chandelier above them.

“You're … what?”

“Didn't expect me to stay, did you? After you tell some guy my personal business and suggest he bet against our team because I can't hack it with a fucking broken heart?”

Oh God. The previous night came back in clearer pieces, and it started adding up. That guy—Joe—thanked him because he was going to go place a bet. A bet that panned out. He must have gone to the press about it. That's what his subconscious had been trying to warn him about.

“Cole, I'm sorry. Seriously. I didn't mean to. I had a really bad day and a lot of beers and—”

“Save it. I thought we were friends, but I guess you really can't trust anybody.”

“Please. Hold up for a minute. I know I screwed up, but if you could just let me explain.”

“You know what, Mad? I've listened to you explain a lot of things. I never judged you, and I never repeated what you told me to anyone. You couldn't do the same for me just once. I'm staying at Colly's until I find a place. I can't deal with this now.” He swept an arm in the direction of the boxes. “I'll be back for it.” He shouldered the duffle, grabbed the hockey stick, and threw open the front door, then slammed it behind him.

Madden stood there, staring. Not even the hangover was worse than the self-resentment. Jacey was right. He broke everything. Confidences, trusts, friendships. But he could fix them too. He could. And he would. He had to.

Sunday, March 30th

The old Saralynn wouldn't have blinked at breaking up with a man, and she'd almost never done it in person. She'd gone through it so many times, a memorized speech waited at the ready. She could recite it in her sleep. The problem was none of it applied this time.
I've had a really good time with you, but I don't think this is working out. We're in different places. Going different directions. We want different things. I met someone else. I'm not at a point in my life where I can be in a relationship.

She couldn't say any of that to him. Their relationship
had
been working out. They'd been in the same place, going the same direction, and more or less wanting the same thing. She'd really thought she was ready to open herself up and really
be
with someone. Not just floating on the periphery waiting for an escape, but waist-deep, face to face in the confusing, complicated, messy, wonderful, and real middle of a relationship. But maybe she wasn't.

Pulling up his driveway, she fought the paralyzing urge to turn back. She needed closure, and he deserved it, if nothing else, from her. The towering home had felt inviting before, but now it was intimidating. Before she could think twice, she jogged up the steps and rang the bell. It echoed through the house, but there was no other sound. Not even footsteps. She knocked. No answer. He had to be there. His car was.

She tried the knob, and it turned in her hand. The door swung open but hit something. She pushed, and it moved slowly then stopped. Boxes?

“Madden?” A groan came from the living room. She wiggled inside and closed the door behind her, then hopped over the sea of cardboard until she hit carpet.

Madden sat on the couch in sweatpants and an old band T-shirt, staring at a TV on mute. After a minute, he switched it off and looked at her. “Hey.”

That's all he had to say? She licked her lips, winding up for a lecture, but the boxes remained in her side vision. “What happened?”

He hesitated before responding. “Cole moved out.” His voice was flat on the surface, but an undertone of sadness rippled through.

She lost a little steam. An echo of his pain touched her, but she pushed it down. “I'm sorry. But do you blame him?”

“No. I blame myself. I really screwed up.” This might be what remorse looked like on Madden, but it was hard to tell. Despite his blank exterior, he seemed fragile. On the edge of falling apart. But she couldn't get sucked in.

“I don't exactly know what's going on inside your head. I can only guess. I know I'm not blameless. I'm confusing and contradictory, and most of the time I don't understand myself. But at some point, you have to own your choices. You care now, but why didn't you care Friday night as you were choosing to torpedo your life from bad to worse?”

He held her gaze, and turmoil churned in his stormy gray-blue eyes, but he didn't say anything.

“I thought you were past that pitfall. I took a chance on you because you said you were trying to be better. We had that in common. But I'm still trying every day, and you … it's like you've given up. I want to be there for you, but I don't think I can.”

He stood and swayed toward her but didn't take a step, like he was afraid she'd leave. “I know I made a mistake. And I don't have a good excuse. At the time, I didn't think I
could
make things worse. I just wanted to stop the gnawing in my gut. I wanted to go numb just for one night. Cole is my best friend. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. It kills me that I did, but I didn't mean to. And Jacey … she's pregnant, and she doesn't know if she wants me around her kid. I am losing everyone I care about. Please. I don't want to lose you, too.”

The raw heartbreak in his face almost stole her reserve. How long had he known about Jacey and not said anything? Was that why he'd been acting so manic? Hot tears slid down her cheeks, and her lips trembled. “I'm sorry. I really am. But I can
barely
keep myself on track. If I'm going to let people influence my life, it needs to be positive.”

He leaned back like she'd slapped him.

She shook her head. “I didn't mean … look. I know you'll recover from this. You'll straighten yourself out and right the wrongs. I just don't think I'm strong enough to be your crutch right now.”

I'm a terrible person.

He stood there, arms at his sides but hands open like he had to fight not to reach out for her. “Saralynn … ”

“I'm so sorry, Mad.” She wiped her eyes even as more tears fell and moved for the door as fast as she could, but he didn't follow her. Somehow that made it hurt even more. She didn't stop until she was in her car. Her hand shook as she buckled up, and it took three tries. When it finally clicked, she stared at the steering wheel, and the dam broke. Squealing whimpers escalated to sobs, and she held her face in her hands.

Was it true? Did she really need to break up with him to take care of herself? Or was she just being a selfish coward? Either way, remorse nearly ate her alive for the pain she'd seen in his eyes. Hadn't she warned him? Reese was right after all. She was relationship napalm. All the progress she'd thought she made, what if it wasn't real? The thought paralyzed her until she couldn't breathe, or maybe she was just crying that hard. She pushed her key in the ignition and took a shaky, deep breath, trying to pull herself together. It would get better. It had to.

Tuesday, April 1st

Saralynn couldn't remember a single time she'd stared at the clock on her office computer, waiting for her lunch hour, but there was a first for everything. She almost hadn't made it out of bed on Monday let alone come into work, but Madden hadn't been there. He wasn't there today either.
It's my fault
. A knock on the door spiked her heart rate, but it was just her brother. In one of his game day suits.

“Hey. I'm here to take you to lunch.”

She looked at the date on her day planner and frowned. “If this is an April Fool's joke, I'm not in the mood. I heard what you guys did to Colly, filling his car with packing peanuts.”

Reese started to grin but studied her face and obviously thought better of it. “No joke.”

“Is this because I melted down on the phone last night with Allie? I guess she told you.”