Playing for Hearts (101 page)

“Okay, I'm back. What do you need?” Janelle said.

“Uh … why are you answering my phone?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, not liking the panic rising in her.

“Bruce asked me to.” Janelle giggled. “We're busy, so can you call back?”

“Busy?” She grew dizzy, and forced herself to breathe. “It's not even eight o'clock in the morning. What are you doing in my apartment?”

Janelle lowered her voice. “What do you think I'm doing? Bruce asked me over. I really need to, uh, get back to Bruce … so, if you don't need anything, I'm going to hang up.”

Dead air filled Crista's ear. Her chest tightened. How could he?

The moment she'd left the apartment, he jumped right back to wanting Janelle, and obviously he'd gotten want he wanted because she was in
her
apartment. Crista gazed down at herself. Sweaty from the ride, she had no makeup on, her old workout clothes were plastered to her body, and her hair was up in a sleek ponytail. Rage built up inside her. Damn Bruce. Damn Janelle.

If he was looking for a supermodel, then he could have the bitch. She clutched the cell in her hand, whirled, and sent the phone flying over the cliff. She wasn't changing for anyone, especially Bruce. She was who she was, sweaty tank and all, and if Bruce couldn't see that, then he deserved to be miserable with Janelle.

Bruce stood in the middle of the empty living room. He'd had four hours to pack and put everything Crista owned in the moving van, and after recruiting everyone he could find in the apartment complex, they'd accomplished the impossible. All that was left was the equipment Crista used to train, a couple of suitcases Janelle packed for her that'd last for two weeks until they arrived home, and his own luggage he'd brought with him. Even he impressed himself with his rather impromptu organizational skills.

Now all he had to do was tell Crista she was moving now. He rocked back on his heels. If he'd left it up to her to pack, she would've dragged her feet. They didn't have that much time. Besides, he'd accomplished most everything, and now she could relax and not worry.

The door opened and Crista walked in with her bicycle over her shoulder. Proud of himself, he widened his stance and waited for her to notice he'd taken care of everything and she didn't need to lift a finger.

Her brows rose and her mouth opened as she took in her bare apartment. Finally, she dropped the bike with a clattering
thunk
. He stepped toward her, but she put her hand up, stopping him. This was not the reaction he'd imagined receiving.

“Where are my things?” she said.

He tightened his lips over his teeth. For the first time, he wondered if he'd pushed her too fast. He thought women liked surprises, and she'd liked the phone he fastened to her bike earlier. Clearing an apartment out wasn't much different. “About a half hour away, heading north on I-5, in a moving van.”

She looked at him, looked at her bare room, and settled her gaze on her bike lying at her feet. Fuck. He was in trouble.

“I know how much you still have to do with your clients; I thought I'd settle things here at your apartment. I already paid the rest of your lease, since you won't be working downstairs in the gym to keep up your end of the agreement. I gave your food to the Fredricksons because they need all the help they can get living on social security, and I knew you'd want to help them,” he said, hating the way he sounded desperate. “Now you can concentrate on making your contacts and we'll be ready to go tonight without leaving anything behind to worry about.”

She stepped over the bike and walked down the hall without saying a word. He blew out his cheeks and expelled the air while she was gone. She was supposed to be happy. They were starting a new life together. He'd taken care of everything, and all she had to do was concentrate on being happy.

Crista returned to the living room with both his bags hanging from her sides. She approached him and dropped the luggage at his feet.

His chest tightened. “What's wrong?”

“Get out,” she whispered.

He stared in disbelief. Her eyes shone bright with emotion and her chin pointed at him in disapproval. He shook his head, trying to understand what he'd done wrong and came back empty. Okay, he'd cleared her apartment out without her asking, or actually giving her consent on moving in with him, but this was Crista. She'd come around and when they were in the air, flying to Washington, she'd be thankful for all his hard work.

“Sweetheart, give me—”

“Get out.” She crossed her arms and stepped away from him. “I'm not leaving with
you
, and I'm not moving in with
you
. If our friendship means anything to
you
, give me that much without arguing with me.”

“What the fuck is going on?” he mumbled, refusing to move an inch. “I love you.”

The words seemed to bounce off her. She closed her eyes an extra beat and when she gazed back at him, she wasn't really looking at him. He reached for her and she trembled, so he dropped his hand. He hated seeing her upset and pushing him away, and he hated not knowing what had happened.

Respecting her, he kept his distance. “You're killing me.”

“That's the last thing I'd want to do,” she said, her voice hollow and lacking her normal joy for life. “But if you don't leave, you're going to rip my heart out and I don't know if I can survive when that happens. Please. Go. Please.”

She frightened him. Something had happened, and he was damn sure her change in attitude had nothing to do with him packing up her apartment. She'd been right there with him this morning in bed, rocking his world, blowing his mind, and loving every second of it.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “I don't understand what's going on, but I'll give you space.”

She remained quiet. He inhaled deeply. “I have an hour before we have to leave for the airport. I'll go down to the beach and come back in thirty min—”

“No.” She sniffled. “I'm not going with you, and you're leaving.”

The hell he'd leave her alone like this. “I'm calling Shauna, and she's going to talk to the other girls. I'm not going to leave you alone. If you won't talk to me, talk to them, okay?”

She pinched her lips together and nodded.

He stepped toward her one more time, backing her against the wall. She could protest all she wanted, but he was damned if he was going to walk away from her without her knowing how much it hurt him to drop everything.

He hooked her neck and held her in place. Tension warmed his fingertips, and he brought his forehead down on hers. “Don't think I'm running away, sweetheart. You've left me no choice. I have to go to Moses Lake, but I am not giving up on us, on you. I'll call you tonight, and if you don't want to talk, I'll call you tomorrow morning. I'll keep trying to talk with you until I'm done in Washington and I can get my ass back here to you. I love you, don't you forget that.”

She gazed at his feet. He pulled back on her hair, raising her face to his. Her eyes heated, and she shuddered from his touch. She could deny everything, but he saw her respond. He kissed her softly, barely touching her lips with his, and sighed heavily. “Love you, sweetheart.”

She dropped her chin to her chest again, and he stepped away, picked up his luggage, and walked away from her. He closed the door softly behind him, and stood in the hallway, beaten.

Without wasting time, he pulled out his cell phone and called Shauna. But the call only added to his frustration and feelings of being useless when he couldn't answer any of her questions.

“I hope to hell Grayson told you what's going on with me and Crista,” he said as soon as Shauna said hello.

“Uh, yeah. I knew something was up when we visited California, so I asked him. He talked,” she said.

“Then tell me why Crista's making me leave,” he said. “She won't listen, and fuck … you should see her. It looks like someone ripped her heart out, and her devastation is aimed at me. I don't know what I did.”

“Listen, honey. When a woman won't even be in the same apartment complex with you, something is seriously wrong,” Shauna said.

“That's what I've been trying to tell you.” He clamped his hand on the back of his neck and rotated his shoulders. “She's scaring me. Crista never lets anything get her down and she's about as low as I've ever seen her. She always talks to me and a few minutes ago, she barely even looked at me. I need you to fly out here and be with her. Someone needs to make sure she's okay.”

“Okay. Let me get ahold of Grayson at the tennis center and have him come home and watch the baby. I'll be on the first flight I can get. Meanwhile, I'll talk to the other girls and see if Crista happened to call one of them. I'll keep you posted,” Shauna said.

“Thank you. Call me. Whatever you hear or don't, I want to know.” He disconnected the phone.

In his head, he knew he was doing the only thing he could manage to do. In his heart, he hurt for Crista. He loved her, and wanted to do more.

He stepped closer to the apartment door and leaned against the wood, straining to hear anything coming from Crista, but the apartment remained quiet. He left the door and walked to the elevator as if he'd never see her again. Nothing was real.

They'd never fought before. They'd bickered, they'd teased, and they'd grown tired of each other's company in the past, but she had never pushed him away. If he weren't due for a tournament, he'd stick around town and keep trying to talk with her. But he had to compete.

His tourneys paid his bills and allowed him to travel the world. Not to mention, he was the reigning world-class bass fisherman of the fucking world, and he wasn't giving that title up any day soon. He exhaled loudly. Hell, he'd give the title up if that meant having her back with him and happy.

The elevator doors opened and Janelle stepped forward and laid her hand flat on his chest. “Oh, Bruce … you aren't leaving already, are you?”

His body turned cold. “Go find someone else to bother, Janelle.”

“Bruce … ” Her lower lip came out and she leaned against him. “Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend's best friend?”

He slung one of his bags into the elevator and grabbed her wrist before she could do anything else to embarrass herself. “You go near Crista, and you'll find yourself shacking up with your manager and out of an apartment. I don't want you going near Crista or even saying her name. Do you understand me?”

She scoffed. “You can't kick me out of my apartment.”

“Try me.” He dropped her arm and skirted around her. “Money talks, babe, and I have plenty around to make sure Crista's happy. If that means getting you away from her and out of this apartment complex, I'll do it. Cast your line somewhere else because we're both done with you.”

Janelle glared and pursed her lips, creating wrinkles where real skin ended and Botox started. He pushed the lobby button on the panel of the elevator and watched the doors close, blocking out the woman who made Crista upset half the time she came around. He had no idea what had made him think Janelle was a catch. Crista was spot on. Janelle was a barracuda.

He rode the elevator down to the first floor, checked his watch, and headed to his rental car. He had two hours free, and he might as well turn in the vehicle and check in with Shauna again to make sure she was able to get away. One thing he was sure of, he wouldn't get on the plane without knowing someone was taking care of Crista. No matter if he blew the tournament and stayed in Cali. Crista's happiness meant more than money or his career.

According to her wristband pedometer, Crista had walked four and a quarter miles since Bruce left. She continued to pace the apartment. Her chest ached and despite the small area, now bare of her belongings and what she couldn't deem as real exercise, she panted for breath.

She hurt worse than anything she'd ever experienced.

Her stomach spasmed. Her heart raced. Her head pounded.

Most of all, she was numb and had to keep reminding herself that Bruce had cheated on her. He might not have actually screwed Janelle, but he'd had her in the apartment
keeping her busy
. She sniffed and pivoted on her foot to continue marching down the hallway.

He'd ripped her heart out and left her vulnerable. She pressed her hand to her chest without missing a step. She hated being vulnerable.

She sniffed.
I will not cry.

Worst case scenario, she'd still see Bruce in social gatherings any time their group of friends got together in Cottage Grove or at an Olympian event. Her friends would expect her. His friends would demand Bruce's appearance. She stumbled and caught herself on the wall. God, how could she see him again knowing what they had, what they could do in bed together, what he meant to her?

She held her breath and squeezed her eyes closed.
I will not cry.

Bolstering through the pain, she forced herself to keep moving. She sought the place where her mind emptied and her body moved automatically. Only in the athletic zone would she escape the pain of his betrayal and the worst day of her life.

The doorbell rang. She froze. He wouldn't come back and blow any chance of them remaining friends, would he?

“Crista, open the door,” a voice sounding exactly like Shauna's penetrated her apartment.

Relief swept through her, leaving her shaky. Bruce had kept his word on calling in the girls to take care of her. She ran to the door, flung it open, and soaked in all the female karma coming from Shauna, Dana, Diana, and—she blinked at Gary's wife Angie. Her vision blurred, and before she could motion them inside, they'd surrounded her. Protected within the safety of her girls, she finally allowed herself to do what she never succumbed to in competition.