Play With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 2)

JENNIE

The roar of the crowd rings in my ears, but it’s my anger that’s thundering.

Dangerous. Explosive. Lethal.

My heart thrashes, throwing itself at my rib cage like it might burst as I wait for the curtains to close.

“Jennie,” Simon starts once we’re encased in darkness, eager, excited as he releases me. “That was so—”

I twirl so fast I no longer feel the ground beneath my bare feet. The sound of my palm striking his cheek echoes behind the stage, stunning the crew to silence, leaving only the cheers of the audience.

Simon covers the red handprint on his cheek. The dumbfounded expression he wears only spurs me on.

“How dare you,” I seethe. “How fucking dare you.”

“Dazzling! That. Was. Dazzling!” Mikhail rushes toward us but stops short, his grin falling. “Jennie? Is everything okay?”

“No. Everything is not okay.” I stalk toward Simon, every inch of my body hot, right up to the tips of my ears. “No.” I shove my finger in his chest. “I. Said. No. Do you know what no means?”

His hands rise in surrender, or defense, as he nods rapidly.

“That’s funny. Because I’ve said it once.” Another jab to the chest. “I’ve said it twice.” Another. “I’ve lost count of how many fucking times I’ve said that two-letter word to you, yet you still—” jab, “—don’t—” jab, “—get it.” One more jab, extra fucking hard, just for good fucking measure. “How fucking flawed is my judgment that I could never truly see you for who you are? That I gave you chance after chance, believed there was anything decent about you?”

“It was an accident,” he pleads on a whisper, eyes pinballing. “Keep your voice down.”

My brows fly up my forehead. “An accident? You accidentally kissed me without my consent? For the second time?”

There’s the gasp I was waiting for, Mikhail right on cue. “Simon.”

“I-I…I got caught up. It felt right. With acting like we’re in love for the show and everything…It just felt right, Jennie.”

The laugh that leaves my lips is nothing short of menacing. “I don’t need to pretend like there’s anything more going on between us for the sake of the show. I’m a damn hard worker and my dancing will do all the talking, like it always does, like it has my entire life.”

I storm past the watching dance cast, finding my cubby, my bag, my outfit for dinner tonight, and I sling it all over my shoulder. The faster I get the hell out of here, the better.

I pause at the exit, meeting Simon’s worried gaze. “That was the last time we’ll ever dance together. I’m done with pairs, and I’m done with you.” I look to Mikhail. “Understood?”

He gives me a curt nod and a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

I keep my head up as I push through the crowd filtering out of the auditorium, heading for the spot where Carter promised to be waiting.

He’s there. They’re all there. Except for one.

I try not to notice, but the same way his presence shifted my entire mood, brought me to life on stage, Garrett’s sudden absence leaves my body aching, tired, and I’m reminded that welcoming that man into my life brought me a whole lot of happiness I never knew I was missing.

It’s so staggeringly silent and gray without him, and I hate it.

The fury Carter is feeling is as palpable as my own as I march toward him. He opens his mouth, and I shove my finger in his face.

“Don’t even start. I don’t want to hear his fucking name. Not today, not tomorrow, and if you bring it up anyway, yours will be the next face I slap tonight, got it?”

Carter’s lips mash together, eyes wide. “Got it. I’ll go get the car.”

I’m wrapped in hold after hold, passed between family and friends as they praise my performance, and when I take a step back for some air, a hand wraps around my elbow, tugging me around the corner.

Garrett takes my face in his strong hands, thumbs sweeping over my cheekbones as his gaze touches every inch of me. His eyes are hard, reeling with a fury so deep it makes his grasp tremble. But there’s something else there. Something tangible. Something strong and profound and genuine that throws me for a loop, because I used to believe I saw it, but I spent last night convincing myself it was never there.

“Are you okay, Jennie?”

“I’m…” Not. I’m not okay. Simon took something that didn’t belong to him. Kevin took something that didn’t belong to him. The only person I’ve willingly and eagerly given any pieces of myself to is this man right here. I didn’t do it blindly or unknowingly. I did it slowly, cautiously, sometimes while I stared fear right in the face, dared it to prove me wrong about Garrett. It never did. Every time I gave him another piece, he took it carefully in his hands, like each piece was delicate glass, something to be admired.

But now what? Where do we stand? Have I given all my pieces to someone who no longer wants them? Have I lost the only person who’s ever accepted all of me?

“No,” I finally whisper. “I’m not okay.”

The hardness in his eyes fades, giving way to the softness I’ve come to know, the tenderness I love.

Before he can say anything, Adam appears.

“Sorry to interrupt. Carter just pulled up out front, Jennie. He’s calling for you.”

I want Garrett to say no. I want him to take me home and tell me he didn’t mean anything he said yesterday. I want everything to go back to the way it was.

But he nods, and Adam places his hand on my lower back, guiding me away.

Something catches my pinky, and I look back, watching as Garrett’s own squeezes mine before slipping away, and somewhere deep inside me, my heart restarts.

It’s a quiet ride to the restaurant, Mom, Olivia, and Hank discussing how beautiful I was on stage. Carter keeps opening his mouth before second-guessing, which is probably for the best. Ninety-nine percent of the words that come out of his mouth are the wrong ones anyway.

When everyone exits the car, I slip one dress off in favor of another, right here in the front seat while Carter hands his keys over to the valet.

He takes my hand, helping me out and pulling me into his side for a hug. “You look beautiful, Jennie.” He kisses my temple. “And you kicked ass on stage. I’m proud of you.”

A sassy eight-year-old attaches herself to my torso as the hostess leads us to our table. “You rock, like, so hard, Auntie J.” Alannah’s not really my niece; she’s Carter and Olivia’s. But I love being Auntie J, and I think she’s the coolest kid out there. “If I wasn’t already a kick-ass hockey player, I’d be a dancer.”

“You could do both,” I suggest weakly. “Maybe you can be my first dancer when I open my studio.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Uncle Carter says you’re moving to Toronto to be a dancer.”

“I don’t know what I’m do…ing…” My train of thought derails when I spy the blond-haired giant of a man already seated at our table, anxiously drumming his fingers on the white tablecloth, and I trip over my own feet, bouncing off Olivia’s small frame.

Olivia’s gaze moves between me and Garrett as we stare at each other. She doesn’t say a word, but I her face softens before she pulls out the seat next to him, gesturing for me to sit.

“Oh, I…I should—”

Cara grips my shoulder, shoving me down. “You should sit.”

“Hold on.” Jaxon hauls me back up. “You didn’t take your coat off.” He slips it over my shoulders, fingertips trailing down my arms as he peels off my coat. He looks directly at Garrett, smirking as he does it. “Stunning,” he murmurs with a whistle. “Right, Andersen?”

Carter’s face appears between us. “Did you just whistle at my sister?”

Jaxon’s face drains of color. He shoves my coat into Carter’s chest. “No.”

“Great.” Carter takes the seat beside me, and now I’m stuck between my brother and the man I…I…I truly don’t know how to finish that sentence.

Well, that’s a lie. I know how to finish it. I just refuse to, now that I…we…now that we…

“You look like you’re gonna cry.”

“Huh?” My head snaps, finding Carter examining me. “No.” Oh fuck. I’m totally gonna cry. “I’m not feeling very well.”

“That happens to me sometimes when I play too hard on the ice, Auntie J,” Alannah pipes up. “It usually goes away with food, but sometimes I need a long nap.”

I struggle to smile back from across the table while feeling the weight of Garrett’s gaze on me, or rather, the hand I lay in my lap, face up. It’s bright red and still stinging with pain from the force of my slap. I prod at the pads below each finger, each one slightly swollen. While Alannah continues, I briefly consider submerging my entire hand in the bucket of ice the bottles of champagne and sparkling water sit in.

“Uncle Carter probably needs a big meal and a nap too. He looked pretty angry when that guy kissed you, and he’s always happier after he eats and naps with Auntie Ollie. He gave me twenty dollars after he was done with the video camera though.”

Jeremy, Alannah’s dad and Olivia’s brother, barks a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Uncle Carter crushed the video camera between his hands.”

“I didn’t crush it, per se,” Carter argues weakly.

“Oh, my apologies. You shouted out a string of expletives and then finished with, ‘God-fucking-damnit, I broke the camera.’”

“So I’ll edit that last bit out. No big deal.”

“Do you know anything about editing video footage, Carter?” Adam asks.

He props his cheek against his fist and frowns. “I’ll pay someone. Might be able to edit S–T–E–V–E right out.”

“I’m not a dog, Carter,” I finally interject. “You can’t spell his name and expect me not to be able to string the letters together, the way you do with Dublin and the word walk.”

Carter mutters something about Dublin being more pleasant than me, and as everyone breaks into conversation, I tune it all out, concentrating instead on the loneliness that’s come roaring back into my life.

I thought I was alone before, but it was Garrett who showed me I wasn’t, that I was surrounded by people who loved me, who wanted to share a space with me.

But as I look around the table, all I see is a space I don’t belong in. Couples in love. Friends with more connections. Where do I fit in? I thought this was the one place I did belong, here with these people, but now I’m just not sure.

My heart begs me to argue with my brain, but I don’t have the energy. Not today, not anymore, and every inch of my body aches as it curls in on itself, begging for solitude, which is ironic; I don’t want to be alone anymore. But I don’t want to be lost either.

A clinking sound draws my attention, and I watch curiously as Garrett scoops his ice from his unused glass, wrapping it in the cloth napkin from his lap. Turquoise eyes meet mine, and he takes my hand in his beneath the table, pressing the covered ice to it, curling my fingers around it.

My sore skin is instantly soothed, and for a moment, Garrett squeezes a bit harder, his palm warm on the back of my hand before he releases me. He reaches for a bottle of sparkling water, filling my glass and his before passing it around the table.

I watch as he brings his glass to his plush lips before laying both hands back in his lap, and God, I want to touch him. So badly, I want his hands on me. I want that full, safe feeling that comes with having my fingers laced through his.

I’m not ready to give up; I don’t care if that makes me naïve. What we have, it’s not something you simply let go. I don’t have much experience with relationships, but this feels like one of those once-in-a-lifetime things.

How many times can I tell myself I’m tired of being scared? That all I want to do is close my eyes and jump? Except I don’t need to close my eyes with Garrett. I’ve always been sure of who he is, what he means to me.

My hand moves on its own accord, inching toward his below the tablecloth. He spreads his fingers a little wider, like his pinky is reaching for mine, and I know that whatever has happened, we can work through it together.

“Excuse me. Garrett, right?”

My eyes lift to the raven-haired beauty hovering at the edge of the table, grinning at Garrett. I pull my hand back as the table quiets, every head turning in their direction.

The woman lays a hand at the base of her throat. “Susie. I was the—”

“Oh!” Carter snaps his fingers. “You’re the photographer! From the photoshoot for the suits. The hockey butts!” He cocks a smug brow. “My name is Carter Beckett, and I have a hockey butt.”

Susie giggles. “Yeah, that’s me. You guys were the most fun I’ve ever had at work before.” Her eyes move over me and widen. “And oh my gosh, hey! You’re that dancer! I just photographed your show! You were amazing! I got tons of great shots, and that kiss at the end?” She lays her hands over her heart. “Total swoon. You could really feel the love between you two.” With a shy smile, she turns to Garrett, and my stomach flip-flops, making me nauseous. “I was kinda bummed out not to hear from you.”

“Oh, I…” Garrett’s cheeks flame, eyes bouncing around the table. The only face he avoids is mine.

“He’s seeing someone,” Carter pipes up. “Or not anymore?” He scratches his head, frowning. “You haven’t mentioned her in a while.”

“I was,” Garrett replies slowly, and I watch his fists ball as my throat closes.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Susie says. “Maybe we could go out one night?”

It feels like all my blood rushes to my head as I wait for his reply, but it’s not him who speaks next.

“C’mon, Gare. It’s Valentine’s Day. Gotta jump headfirst into any chance at love.”

I guess there’s a first time for everything. Like me, right now, being upset with Hank.

Garrett hesitates before standing. With a delicate touch to Susie’s shoulder, he gestures toward the lobby. “Why don’t we go somewhere private to talk?”

My napkin slips, landing on the ground below Garrett’s chair, ice scattering. “Oh shit.” I bend to retrieve it, rolling too far forward, landing on the floor between Garrett’s chair and mine. “Oh fuckballs.” I laugh, super anxious. Reaching under his seat, I grab the melting ice cubes and hammer my head off the edge of the chair on my way back up. “Oh motherfucker.” I grip my head with one hand, holding the ice up with the other, and grin, extra shaky. “Got it.”

I’m going to vomit. And cry. And hyperventilate. Right here at the table. At the same fucking time. I’m about to have a crisis, and the only person I want to hold me while I have it is the one currently guiding another woman out of the restaurant.

“Jennie,” Cara calls, eyes holding the remorse of someone who’s just watched a good old-fashioned heart-stomping. “I need to use the bathroom. Will you come with me?”

“Yes. No.” My hands tremble and my throat squeezes. Everything hurts. Is this the way it goes? Why does it feel like my entire body is breaking? My face feels hot, and I don’t know how to get enough air into my lungs. “I really don’t feel well.” I place my hand on my cheek. It’s clammy and warm. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Olivia digs in her purse and pulls out a set of keys. “I’ll take you home.”

“What?” Carter looks from me to her. “You can’t drive. I’ll take her.”

“It’s your birthday. You stay. Her apartment is down the road. I’ll be back before the appetizers get here.”

“I’ll be fine. Really.” I stand quickly, knocking over Garrett’s water. I pick up the glass and swipe the sweat from my forehead. “Just need to get some air. I’ll be right back.”

I weave through the restaurant before anyone can argue, and step into the frigid night air, the wind slapping at my damp skin.

A hand lands on my lower back as I watch Garrett and Susie talk in the parking lot.

“Come on,” Olivia says, my bag and coat tucked under her arm. “Let’s get you home.”

But when the valet brings the car around and I climb in, watching through the blowing snow as Garrett embraces Susie, all I want is for me to be the one in his arms.

Five minutes. A five-minute drive home, and I can’t keep it in check.

I tell myself I’m just fine, that I’m holding it together, that I was fine on my own before Garrett, and I’ll be fine on my own after Garrett.

But we’re thirty seconds from the restaurant when the first tear rolls down my cheek as I stare out the window. And with the first one comes the second, then the third, and the fourth.

Olivia doesn’t say a single word as we drive in silence, and I must be some kind of stupid to think she’s going to let me out of this car just like that when we get home.

Her hand wraps around my elbow, stopping me when I reach for the door handle. Her big brown eyes soften when she turns me to face her, and she takes my hands in hers.

“For the sake of my marriage, Jennie, we’re not going to use names right now. When your brother inevitably finds out, I need to be able to say I did not know who it was you were seeing.”

Tears slide down my face faster, and I’ve never felt so weak before. I hate it. “You would do that for me?”

“I would do anything for you, Jennie. I love you.”

“Everything was fine,” I cry softly. “Everything was fine until yesterday when he got home. He picked me up from school and we had a fight, but I don’t even know what for. I think I hurt his feelings, but I didn’t mean to. He’s my-he’s my…” I pull in a sniffle, wiping at my eyes, the tips of my fingers coming away smeared with black. “He’s my best friend and I…He means so much to me. I would never want to hurt him.”

Olivia’s gaze holds all the compassion of a woman who’s going to make the most amazing mother, and I’m so thankful my brother has her.

“It sounds like there’s been a big miscommunication somewhere along the way. Sometimes we do silly things when we’re jealous and scared, when we’re hurting, or when someone we love is hurting. You two need to be honest with each other, lay it all out. You Becketts are good at that. Don’t be afraid to show him how you feel.”

She brushes my hair off my damp face, tucking it behind my ear. “Your brother once told me we miss out on the best things in life when we’re scared. I was scared for a long time, and when I finally jumped, I couldn’t even remember why I’d been so scared.”

“That’s because Carter’s obsessed with you,” I choke out.

“If I were to have seen anything tonight, it would have been a man who had his eyes on you every single time you looked away, someone who’s as equally obsessed as my husband. If you jump, Jennie, I think he’s going to be waiting there to catch you.”

So badly, I want her to be right.

For once in my life, I just want to be loved. Loved for who I am, for what I have to give. I want someone to see everything I bring to the table and eagerly sit down with me.

I’ve spent way too many years coming up with excuses, making myself smaller for people who didn’t know how to handle everything I was. I’ve never had to hide with Garrett. There were times when I’ve moved slower, tested the water before diving in, but Garrett’s always been there, waiting with open arms.

He takes every bit of me, the shattered trust, the deep, never-ending grief, the bold and loud, the soft and quiet, both the confident and the timid, and he makes a space for all of it, for all of me in his big heart, and he never asks for anything more.

Is this what love feels like? Is this what it’s like to be loved by someone with no obligation to be anything other than myself?

Warm and fuzzy, like curling up on the couch on a cold, snowy night in my favorite of his hoodies and a mug of hot chocolate after a long day. Like my favorite person smiling down at me, pressing his lips to mine before he lifts the blankets and slides in beside me, pulling me into his warmth, the safety net he casts around me every time he’s near.

Because with him, I’m safe. Safe to be myself, safe to feel, safe to want, safe to be.

If this is love, I’m in it.

If this is love, I never want to let go.

Upstairs, I stare at each carefully wrapped Valentine gift, pretty packages finished with red silk ribbons.

I ditched the dress the second I walked in, sitting here now in his hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts. My face has been scrubbed clean, and despite the overwhelming exhaustion that runs rampant, adrenaline keeps me moving while I watch the clock.

I don’t know how this night will end, but I can’t wait any longer. Bottling up these emotions is wreaking havoc on my brain; I need to let them free.

So I slip my feet into my slippers, shuffle over to my door, and throw it open.

“Garrett,” I gasp softly, coming alive as I stare up at the only love I’ve ever craved.

The gift bag he’s holding lands at my feet, his gaze searing and intent as he sweeps into my apartment, locking the door behind him.

“I’m so fucking tired of pretending.”

“Pretending what?” It’s nothing but a breathy whisper as he prowls toward me, matching each of my steps backward.

His strong hands cup my face, piercing gaze locked on mine as he looms above me. My heart slams in my chest as his thumb sweeps across my lower lip, and his eyes dip, watching as my lips part on a jagged inhale, before flipping back up to mine.

“I’m so fucking tired of pretending I’m not in love with you.”