Pace.
She’d been the catalyst for that, though not the cause, and she couldn’t save him from the hurt.
But she’d be there for him. If he could forgive, that is. She just hoped like hell he could.
The next morning, Pace woke up and actually felt halfway human. It was either the orgasm, or the fact that the Heat had won last night with Ty pitching. Yep, things were looking up. Or they would be, if the media wasn’t still crucifying him for testing positive for drugs.
Red and Wade stopped by as they had every day they hadn’t been on the road, and brought McDonald’s.
“Your damn woman put me in the hospital,” Red said.
“But not the fifty years of smoking?” Pace asked. “It was the damn woman?”
“That’s right.”
“You know it’s your lifestyle,” Wade said.
“Bullshit.” Red munched defiantly on a hash brown patty. “She’s nosy.”
“It’s her job,” Pace reminded him. “And you know you’re not supposed to eat those.”
Red popped the rest into his mouth with defiance. “You defending her?”
“I’m just reminding you that we all have our jobs to do and she’s doing hers. If someone on the team is up to something that they shouldn’t be—”
“Like what?” Red pushed back from the table. “You got something to say, say it.”
“Actually, I have plenty to say—”
“Okay, whoa,” Wade said easily. “Don’t make me put the two of you in separate corners.”
“She’s just doing her job,” Pace repeated to Red, as stubborn as the old man. “And the rest of us should remember that. If someone needs more strength and endurance, they need to try the gym instead of whatever new trick Tucker has for sale. And if someone, even a coach, has a f**king disease that’s threatening his life, he needs to f**king stop smoking and retire before he f**king dies and pisses me off.”
Red set down his food and crossed his bulldog arms. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“Yeah? Well, neither do I. And I sure as hell don’t like wondering how the hell I got tainted with a stimulant.”
Red stared at him for a long moment, then slowly stood. “I’d do anything for you,” he said. “Anything.”
Pace’s chest tightened hard. “You don’t think I know that? But I didn’t want this.”
“Are you blaming me?”
“Should I be?”
Red jerked as if he’d been sucker punched, and Pace immediately opened his mouth to apologize, but with a shake of his head, Red slammed his way out the door.
Pace felt the wave of helplessness and frustration roll over him, and picked up the McDonald’s bag to chuck it across the room.
“Wait.” Wade rescued the last Egg McMuffin before handing the empty bag back to Pace. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Goddammit.”
Wade stayed for the day, probably to keep him sane. He fielded the phone calls from pushy reporters and the one from Pace’s father calling to ask how Pace could have been so stupid as to get involved in a drug scandal. That was fun. They had to ring the cops twice to chase away the paps hanging around outside. When Pace’s physical therapist came by, Wade worked out while Pace got tortured, a process which left him a shaky, sweaty wreck. Wade stayed and watched TV with him, and they ate some more. It was early evening when the doorbell rang. Wade got the door, raising a brow at the gorgeous, elegant, sophisticated creature wearing a satiny royal blue evening gown cut up to her thigh. “Pace,” Wade said slowly, staring at Samantha as if stunned. “Did you call for a stripper?”
“Funny.” Pissy, Sam breezed in past him, carrying a garment bag.
Pace felt as stunned as Wade looked. “Holy cow, Sam. You look amazing.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She turned to Wade. “Okay, strip down, big boy. You’re this stripper’s date.”
Wade blinked. “What? Me?”
“Did I stutter?”
Wade whipped his head toward Pace with a what-the- f**k expression, but Pace merely lifted his good shoulder. Wade and Sam had been growling at each other ever since their single, disastrous night together.
“You don’t want to go anywhere with me,” Wade told Sam. “You can’t even look at me.”
“No shit, Sherlock. But I don’t have a choice.”
“Are you sure?” Wade was sounding a little pissy himself. “Because there’s got to be someone else, anyone else, that you can get drunk and take advantage of this time.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, let’s be clear on who the ho is in this room, Wade O’Riley. And it is not me.”
Wade opened his mouth, but Pace shook his head at him. “Okay, kids, let’s all just try to get along—”
Sam put a hand in his face to shut him up.
“Fine,” Wade said to Sam. “You want me again? Suits me. Let’s go, Princess.”
“Oh, I am so not your Princess.” Sam unzipped the garment bag, revealing a tux. “Pace was supposed to go to this auction gala with me as the guest of honor, but now that’s out of the question. I can’t go dateless, Jeremy’s going to be there with some hot, famous Brazilian model, my father will blow a gasket if I show up alone.” She lifted her head and smiled grimly at Wade. “So I’m stuck with you.”
She’d been the catalyst for that, though not the cause, and she couldn’t save him from the hurt.
But she’d be there for him. If he could forgive, that is. She just hoped like hell he could.
The next morning, Pace woke up and actually felt halfway human. It was either the orgasm, or the fact that the Heat had won last night with Ty pitching. Yep, things were looking up. Or they would be, if the media wasn’t still crucifying him for testing positive for drugs.
Red and Wade stopped by as they had every day they hadn’t been on the road, and brought McDonald’s.
“Your damn woman put me in the hospital,” Red said.
“But not the fifty years of smoking?” Pace asked. “It was the damn woman?”
“That’s right.”
“You know it’s your lifestyle,” Wade said.
“Bullshit.” Red munched defiantly on a hash brown patty. “She’s nosy.”
“It’s her job,” Pace reminded him. “And you know you’re not supposed to eat those.”
Red popped the rest into his mouth with defiance. “You defending her?”
“I’m just reminding you that we all have our jobs to do and she’s doing hers. If someone on the team is up to something that they shouldn’t be—”
“Like what?” Red pushed back from the table. “You got something to say, say it.”
“Actually, I have plenty to say—”
“Okay, whoa,” Wade said easily. “Don’t make me put the two of you in separate corners.”
“She’s just doing her job,” Pace repeated to Red, as stubborn as the old man. “And the rest of us should remember that. If someone needs more strength and endurance, they need to try the gym instead of whatever new trick Tucker has for sale. And if someone, even a coach, has a f**king disease that’s threatening his life, he needs to f**king stop smoking and retire before he f**king dies and pisses me off.”
Red set down his food and crossed his bulldog arms. “I don’t like where this is going.”
“Yeah? Well, neither do I. And I sure as hell don’t like wondering how the hell I got tainted with a stimulant.”
Red stared at him for a long moment, then slowly stood. “I’d do anything for you,” he said. “Anything.”
Pace’s chest tightened hard. “You don’t think I know that? But I didn’t want this.”
“Are you blaming me?”
“Should I be?”
Red jerked as if he’d been sucker punched, and Pace immediately opened his mouth to apologize, but with a shake of his head, Red slammed his way out the door.
Pace felt the wave of helplessness and frustration roll over him, and picked up the McDonald’s bag to chuck it across the room.
“Wait.” Wade rescued the last Egg McMuffin before handing the empty bag back to Pace. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Goddammit.”
Wade stayed for the day, probably to keep him sane. He fielded the phone calls from pushy reporters and the one from Pace’s father calling to ask how Pace could have been so stupid as to get involved in a drug scandal. That was fun. They had to ring the cops twice to chase away the paps hanging around outside. When Pace’s physical therapist came by, Wade worked out while Pace got tortured, a process which left him a shaky, sweaty wreck. Wade stayed and watched TV with him, and they ate some more. It was early evening when the doorbell rang. Wade got the door, raising a brow at the gorgeous, elegant, sophisticated creature wearing a satiny royal blue evening gown cut up to her thigh. “Pace,” Wade said slowly, staring at Samantha as if stunned. “Did you call for a stripper?”
“Funny.” Pissy, Sam breezed in past him, carrying a garment bag.
Pace felt as stunned as Wade looked. “Holy cow, Sam. You look amazing.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She turned to Wade. “Okay, strip down, big boy. You’re this stripper’s date.”
Wade blinked. “What? Me?”
“Did I stutter?”
Wade whipped his head toward Pace with a what-the- f**k expression, but Pace merely lifted his good shoulder. Wade and Sam had been growling at each other ever since their single, disastrous night together.
“You don’t want to go anywhere with me,” Wade told Sam. “You can’t even look at me.”
“No shit, Sherlock. But I don’t have a choice.”
“Are you sure?” Wade was sounding a little pissy himself. “Because there’s got to be someone else, anyone else, that you can get drunk and take advantage of this time.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, let’s be clear on who the ho is in this room, Wade O’Riley. And it is not me.”
Wade opened his mouth, but Pace shook his head at him. “Okay, kids, let’s all just try to get along—”
Sam put a hand in his face to shut him up.
“Fine,” Wade said to Sam. “You want me again? Suits me. Let’s go, Princess.”
“Oh, I am so not your Princess.” Sam unzipped the garment bag, revealing a tux. “Pace was supposed to go to this auction gala with me as the guest of honor, but now that’s out of the question. I can’t go dateless, Jeremy’s going to be there with some hot, famous Brazilian model, my father will blow a gasket if I show up alone.” She lifted her head and smiled grimly at Wade. “So I’m stuck with you.”
