“He knew.” Sheila offered a knowing look. “And what he said was confirmed to me by a player on the team.”
“The one you’re sleeping with?” Hayden couldn’t help cracking.
Two red circles splotched Sheila’s cheeks. “Don’t judge me, Hayden. I may have turned to another man, but only after your father betrayed me. Pres pushed me away long before I did what I did.”
Her mouth closed. Sheila was right. Who the hell was she to judge? What happened within a marriage wasn’t anybody’s business but the people who were married, and she couldn’t make assumptions or draw conclusions about a situation she hadn’t been a part of.
And if she were to draw conclusions, it startled her to realize she actually believed Sheila. She might not approve of Sheila’s contesting of the prenup, but Hayden couldn’t bring herself to brush off what her stepmother had told her.
If her father had really bribed players, what would happen to him if—when?—the investigation revealed the truth? Would he get off with a fine, or would she be visiting him in prison this time next year? Fear trickled through her, settling in her stomach and making her nauseated.
With a sympathetic look and a soft sigh, Sheila said, “Things aren’t always as they seem. People aren’t always as they seem.” She averted her eyes, but not before Hayden saw the tears coating her lashes. “Do you want to know why I married your father?”
For his money?
She quickly swallowed down the nasty remark, but Sheila must have seen it in her eyes because she said, “The money was part of it. I know you probably won’t understand, but I didn’t have a lot of financial security growing up. My parents were dirt-poor. My father ran off with what little money we did have, and I was working by the time I was thirteen.” She shrugged. “Maybe I was selfish for wanting a man who could take care of me, for wanting some security.”
Sheila paused, shaking her head as if reprimanding herself.
“But the money wasn’t the only reason. If it was, I would have married one of the many rich jerks who showed up at the bar I waitressed at, pinching my ass and trying to get me into bed. But I didn’t marry one of those guys. I married your dad.”
“Why?” Hayden asked quietly, strangely fascinated by her stepmother’s story.
“Because he was one of the good guys. I wasted so much time on the bad boys, the guys who light your body on fire but end up burning you out in the end. I was sick of it, so I decided to find myself a Mr. Nice—a decent, stable man who might not be the most exciting man in the world but who’d always be there for me, always put me first. Financially and emotionally.”
A wave of discomfort crested in Hayden’s stomach, slowly rising inside her until it lodged in her throat. She never thought she’d have anything in common with this woman, but everything Sheila just said mirrored the thoughts Hayden had been having for years now. Wasn’t that why she’d chosen Doug? Because he was nice, decent and stable? Because he’d always put her first?
“But nice men aren’t necessarily the right men,” Sheila finished. “Nice men make mistakes, too. They can take you for granted and they can play with your emotions, just like those bad boys I wanted so badly to get away from.”
“Did you ever love him?” Hayden couldn’t help but ask.
“Was I madly, passionately in love with him? No. But that’s not what I wanted from our relationship. I don’t trust that feeling anymore. But I did love him deeply. And I respected him.” Sheila swiped at the tears staining her cheeks and lifted her chin. “Your father hurt me, Hayden. If he’d truly loved me, he would’ve seen that I was only trying to help him, that I wanted to be there for him the way I thought he’d be there for me. But he wasn’t there for me.”
A sigh slipped out. “I’m sorry.”
“I feel awful about not being able to get him help for the drinking, I really do, but I couldn’t accept the way he was treating me. He fucked another woman, he lied about his criminal actions and now he’s making me out to be a selfish gold digger.” With a bitter smile, Sheila leaned forward and stared at her with sad blue eyes. “How’s that for Mr. Nice?”
Hayden left with no real idea how to help her dad, and even more concerned about his possible criminal activities. If anything, she was just as confused and upset as she’d been when she rang Sheila’s doorbell.
Her phone rang the second she got into her car, and just when she thought this day from hell couldn’t get any worse, it did. Doug was calling.
God, she couldn’t deal with this right now. But she couldn’t keep avoiding her issues any longer, either. Today she’d finally opened her eyes to the downward spiral of her father’s life, started to accept that her father might have become an alcoholic, adulterer and criminal.
Maybe it was time to face the other man in her life.
The last time she’d spoken to Doug, she told him she still needed space. But she didn’t need that space anymore. Because, somehow, over the past few weeks, her casual fling with Brody Croft had...changed.
She couldn’t pinpoint when the change had occurred. All she knew was that since they’d gone skating after the Gallagher Club, she and Brody had been having fun not only in the bedroom, but out of it as well. They’d gone back to the Lakeshore Lounge for dinner. And Brody had even taken her to the Art Institute of Chicago yesterday morning after hockey practice, where he spent the entire day following her from painting to painting and listening to her rave about each one. She’d been a little worried going out with him in public, but nobody had recognized him, fortunately. The baseball cap he’d worn, pulled low over his eyes, had probably helped with that.
What wasn’t fun, however, was having him fly to another city every other day. It just gave her flashbacks of her father’s coaching days. Having to say goodbye to him all the time. Being left at home to fend for herself while he gave all his attention to his team. Each time Brody left to catch his flight this week, she’d had to bite her tongue. Had to remind herself that no matter how much she was enjoying being with him, this was still a fling.
And flings always came to an end at some point.
As her phone continued to ring, Hayden took a deep breath.
She needed to pick up. Doug had sent her three messages this week, growing more and more concerned with each text. He probably thought she was lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and she was disgusted with herself for her inability to deal with this head-on.
No more stalling. She’d already endured one unwanted confrontation today. Might as well make it two for two.
“Thank God,” Doug said when she answered. “I was beginning to think something terrible had happened to you.”
His obvious relief caused guilt to buzz around in her belly. She felt like total slime for making him worry like this.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she replied, her fingers trembling against the phone. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your texts. Things have been hectic.”
“I can imagine.” He paused. “Some of the papers here are running stories about your father, honey.”
“Yeah, it’s happening here, too. I’m starting to get worried,” she admitted.
Confiding in him came as naturally as brushing her teeth in the morning. She’d always been able to talk to Doug about everything. Whether it was problems at the university or something as minor as a bad haircut, he was always there to listen. It was one of the things she liked about him.
Liked.
The word hung in her mind, making her tap one hand against the steering wheel. She liked everything about this man. His patience, his tenderness, his generosity. And she was certain that once he finally decided the time was right for them to get physical, she’d like that, too.
And that was the problem. She wasn’t sure she could spend the rest of her life with a man she simply liked. Sure, sometimes love took time to develop, feelings could grow, friends could realize they were soulmates...at least that was what she’d always believed.
After meeting Brody, she was starting to reconsider.
