Page 116 of Breakaway Bet

“That fucking hockey player,” she mutters, very nearly prompting a hysterical laugh-slash-sob out of me.

She pulls me into her house and into her arms, rubbing my back in soothing circles as she murmurs about how everything’s going to be okay, peppering in some I’ll kill hims and other various threats for good measure.

Once I’m able to draw in a shaky breath, she leads me through the house toward her kitchen, and she sits me down at the table. She brings a glass with ice over, and then she stops by her pantry and brings over three bottles: vodka, tequila, and whiskey.

“Pick your poison and then tell me what the hell is going on,” she says.

Tequila is out, so I go with the vodka. I pour a generous amount and tip the glass to my lips.

It burns going down, but it does seem to help numb everything right away.

I clear my throat, and I draw in another shaky breath. “Cash hosts this party the first Friday of training camp for the entire team. It was tonight.” I take another sip. I take another breath. “I was playing bartender, and I saw him across the room. I heard him say something about how his friend West was going to ruin this for him, and then I heard something about a bet, so I spoke up. I startled West, who dropped his phone, and there it was. A text message from months ago detailing the bet. Whoever got me to marry him first would win a hundred grand from the other one.”

Everleigh’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

I nod and purse my lips. “And Cash’s reply to that text was, and I quote, ‘Deal, motherfucker.’”

“Whoa,” she breathes. “Then what happened?”

“I yelled at him, smashed his prototype bottles of Nocturno, which, by the way, you can dock from my paycheck, packed a bag, and drove here.”

“He didn’t try to stop you?”

“No, he did. He conveniently dropped the L word.”

She rolls her eyes. “Asshole.”

I finish the first glass of vodka, and we both hear banging on the door.

Bruno runs to the door.

“That was quick,” she says. “What do you want me to do?”

“Don’t let him in.”

She nods, and I stay right where I am as she gets up, steeling herself for this conversation.

I hear Ev tell Bruno to go lie down, and she actually listens, and then I hear her open the door.

“I need to talk to my wife.”

My chest cracks on those words. My wife.

It really felt like it for a minute there, didn’t it? Like he was my husband, and I was his wife, and we were going somewhere into the future together.

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“I know she doesn’t. But I had to come try. She blocked my number, and I have no way of getting in touch with her. Please, you have to let me explain.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

There’s a pause, and I picture Cash sighing, maybe running his hand through his hair. “Did she tell you what happened?”

“She did.”

“That’s how it started, but she didn’t let me explain. We laughed about fucking with the Bradley family after I was at the casino the night it was busted. I hated you—all of you—without really knowing any of you. But that’s not where I’m at now.”

“Oh, really?” Everleigh asks, her tone more of a pointed statement than a question.