The Hearts We Break (The Alphaletes Book 3), page 8
Okay. Enough morbid self-loathing thoughts. The only thing I can do is move forward, try to keep my eyes open to new possibilities, or really any possibilities as long as their name isn’t Slater Santos.
As if god has a sense of humor or something, I turn to smack right into Slater’s chest. His hands quickly grip my biceps to right me as I tip for a moment. Glancing up at him, I smile timidly as I take a step back, feeling his fingertips skate over my bare arms as I do.
“Sorry, I thought you saw me,” he says quietly, which is unusual on its own. Anyone who knows Slater knows that him and the word quiet don’t even exist in the same zip code. Granted, as he’s gotten older, he has lost some of that high energy, frat boy attitude but still.
We stare at each other for several seconds, not really knowing what to say before I figure it’s best to just rip the Band-Aid off.
“Are we okay?”
His brows furrow for a moment before he gives me a soft smile and nods.
“Yeah, of course.”
Nerves that I didn’t know were inside me loosen a little at that, even if I know he isn’t telling me the whole truth. We aren’t okay, but we will be. I think that’s what he means.
“You up for some PT today?” I ask.
Slater nods as he holds out his arm dramatically and smiles.
“After you.”
I smile at him and bump his shoulder with my own as we make our way out of the practice center and to our cars. Ever since his house was redecorated, we have been doing all of his sessions there. He didn’t admit it, but I know the training center wasn’t working for him. The pressure he felt walking through those doors was clearly visible, and that is one of the last things he needs when he’s focusing on recovery.
I follow him to his house, and when we get there, he opens the front door before walking into the kitchen.
“Want anything?” he asks.
“Just water, you should have the same,” I call out as I set my purse down on the coffee table.
“Yes, Mom,” he snarks before chuckling.
Suddenly, a knock comes from the door.
“Can you get that, Scar?” Slater calls out.
“Sure,” I say as I walk over to the entryway, pulling the door open to reveal a short pudgy man with a receding hairline in an ill-fitting suit.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“I’m looking for Slater Santos.”
I roll my eyes as I begin to shut the door. “He’s not interested.”
“Wait! It’s about Nikki Santos,” he calls out through the remaining open sliver of the door.
“What about Nikki?” Slater asks as he pulls the door open from behind me. “Is she okay?”
The man hands Slater an envelope addressed to him before nodding.
“You’ve been served.”
Slater and I still instantly as the man turns to walk back to his car at the end of the road. Served? What-
“Divorce papers,” Slater says before clearing his throat.
I don’t say anything as I watch him closely, noticing a myriad of emotions pass over his face all at once.
“I was surprised I hadn’t gotten anything over the last couple months. I thought maybe she had changed her mind, maybe. Second guessed herself. Joke’s on me, I guess,” he laughs hollowly as he tosses the papers carelessly onto the entry table before making his way towards the gym downstairs.
Wordlessly, I follow him. By the time I reach the bottom, I see Slater standing at his weight bag, his bare knuckles beating into the thick leather as he unleashes what looks to be a lethal amount of fury. I know better than to intervene. I can only imagine how I would feel. I can’t blame him. If the person I thought was going to love me for the rest of my life woke up and left me so callously, I’d want to beat the hell out of some things too.
As soon as I see one of his knuckles pop and blood begins to seep down his hand, I step in.
“Hey,” I say, to which he ignores me as he continues to wale on the bag.
“Hey!” I snap, causing his eyes that are practically black with anger to look at me.
He takes several ragged breaths, staring at me like he can’t quite see me as I slowly reach for one of the spare towels to my side. I take slow steps towards him until I am only inches away. Moving as if I was working with a skittish deer, I gently take Slater’s bleeding hand in mine and apply pressure with the towel. He doesn’t wince, doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me.
“You can’t hurt these money makers,” I say in a soft tone that I’m hoping will help settle him down a bit.
It seems to work at least a little. The angry look on his face eases as he swallows heavily and nods.
“You’re hurt,” I say evenly, though we both know I’m not talking about his knuckles.
He nods.
“And that’s okay. You should feel hurt. Sometimes life isn’t fair, and though we have to deal with it, it doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to feel it. Don’t try to hide from the hurt or push it away. Feel it, let it consume you, let it overwhelm you but just remember to get back up when it’s time.”
Slater thinks over my words for several seconds before his raspy voice speaks.
“How will I know when it’s time?”
“I’ll be here to tell you.”
Slater lets out a short huff as he shakes his head and stares at our feet.
“You’re too good to me, Scar.”
“I know,” I say with a small smile that earns me the tiniest of smirks from him.
Progress.
“But you’re worth it.”
His eyes focus on mine, flicking back and forth over my face as he speaks.
“I could never lose you, Scar. I could lose a lot in my life, but never you. I’d never survive it.”
My heart flutters at his words despite how desperately I try to stop it as I nod and look down to his hand which has already stopped bleeding thankfully.
“You’ll never lose me. I’m here. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Slater
It’s been a month since Nikki has me served with divorce papers. I still haven’t signed them. I couldn’t tell you why. I’ve sat down at least a hundred times to do so. Each time I’d grab a pen and then I just…couldn’t.
Why I feel any kind of loyalty to her, I’ll never know. I gave her everything, did everything for her, and then she does me dirty like this? She doesn’t have the decency to give me a call? To let me know she is sending some piece of shit to my doorstep to serve me papers for a divorce she wanted.
I’ve tried not to think about her over the months. It was surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent nearly every waking moment training, doing everything in my power to get me back to one hundred or at least close to. Maybe the other reason is because almost all of those moments were spent with Scar. Something about her brings me peace, she’s like home. Comforting, safe, warm. When Scar is around there is no room in my head to dwell on the fact that in my loneliest times I miss my wife. She takes that loneliness away, replaces it with something better.
All that aside, I still can’t get my pen to move on that fucking paper. So for now, it stays stuck to my fridge as a constant reminder. I know Scar has something to say about it, Seb and Erica too. Anytime any of them are over they glance at it for several seconds before giving me a heavy look that I pretend not to read.
I’m doing better, a fuck ton better. I’m able to run and pivot with virtually no pain. I’m not as fast as I was before but Scar says that is to be expected and between regular PT training with her and practice starting up next week, everyone is confident that I will be back to my superstar self. I’m even feeling more like myself again, which is a fucking relief. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get back to this.
A song from my playlist comes through the speaker and I immediately begin nodding my head to the beat. Scar’s mouth drops open in surprise as she looks at me.
“One Direction, Slater? Really?”
“Fuck yeah,” I say as I finish another rep. “You introduced them to me, and I’m 1D for life.”
“You do realize they broke up in like 2015, right?”
I scoff and shake my head. “Still not over it.”
Scar laughs lightly and I can’t help but do the same. Ezra and I used to make fun of Scar for listening to all of the boy bands, but for Scar’s fifteenth birthday, I surprised her with One Direction tickets. I didn’t expect to have a good time, but it was hands down the best concert I had ever been to.
We did unfortunately get kicked out when I tried to swipe Harry’s jacket from the stage that he dropped mid-song. I had it in my hands for less than thirty seconds before security was on my ass. Too bad, too. It would have been an awesome present for Scar, but it did make one hell of a story.
I’m wrapping up my last set when my thigh begins to cramp.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I nearly drop to the ground.
My hands wrap around the spot, doing my best to apply direct pressure but it’s doing nothing for the spasming muscle.
“Talk to me,” Scar says as she drops down beside me.
“Cramp,” I grit through clenched teeth.
Scar nods seriously as she forcibly removes my hands and covers them with her own. In seconds, her thumbs have found the pinpoint of my pain and bears down on it until it finally loosens. I let out a sigh of relief as my pain begins to ease.
Instead of pulling away, Scar begins massaging all around my leg. It’s not as hard as her usual massages are. She always told me a good massage should leave you right on that pain point. That’s how you know that it’s working. I always told her she just said that because her muscular hands weren’t capable of a light and soft massage. I guess I’m the fool though because her fingers are like delicate feathers barely running over my thigh in a motion that sends my entire body easing back to the floor.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I groan as I close my eyes.
Her hands continue the motion, up and down, up and down until my leg feels like it’s made of Jell-O. When I crack open my eyes, I see Scar has taken out her ponytail for once, her long rich brown hair hanging on either side of her face as those hazel eyes are intently trained on where she is working on me. The scent of cocoa butter fills my nose, and I can’t help but let my eyes wander to where the v in her Seattle Crusaders shirt is giving the barest sight of cleavage. Scar’s cleavage. Fuck. I should not be looking. I should not be wanting to look.
But when her hands inch up a little higher than before, her breasts pressing together as she does, my hardening cock tells me that me not wanting to look and the fact that I shouldn’t be looking at my best friend is irrelevant.
I don’t know if she can see the semi in my shorts, probably can, or if it’s the fact that I’m staring her down because I don’t know if it’s possible to look away right now. Either way, something makes her look up at me and when she does, I see nothing but pure desire flooding her entrancing eyes. My eyes bounce down to her full pillowy lips, not nearly for the first time wondering what it would be like to taste them. To finally know.
Sitting up slowly, I lean forward before wrapping her hair around my fingers as I pull her closer to me. She comes eagerly, like I could take her anywhere I wanted, like I could do anything to her, and she would be more than willing. Something about that unrelenting obedience has a dark greedy feeling overtaking me. A feeling that wants to see how far I can bend her, what it would take to break sweet Scarlett.
It doesn’t take much to close the distance between us. I feel the silky softness of her lips barely press against my own and it sends my heart thundering and my stomach flipping. I tighten my hold on her, bringing her closer to me as her lips move against my own effortlessly.
Fuck. She tastes better than I could have imagined. She feels better than I’ve ever dreamed.
Running my lip against the seam of her lips, she parts them slightly, allowing me access when she lets out a soft whimper.
“Slate,” she gasps a sound that, though sexy as fuck and has a direct line to my now rock hard cock, is also the very thing that brings me out of the lust fueled haze I’ve found myself in.
Fuck! What am I doing?
I meant what I told her. I could lose a lot in my life, but never her.
Regretfully, I break the kiss and lean back, turning my head before I catch a glimpse of any emotion. I don’t want to see anything on her face. Disappointment, relief, want. All of it will make things more complicated than they are. More complicated than I just made it. Again.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” I say lowly.
Instead of responding, she sits there for several seconds silently before I hear her slowly stand, making her way over to her purse. She doesn’t say a thing as she opens the door and starts walking up the stairs. I don’t even move until I hear the front door open and shut with a hollow thud. I’m playing with fire here. Our friendship is hanging on by strings, and if I keep fanning the flames over those strings they’re gonna snap.
You ever get to a place, anticipation filling you up because you know just a few steps in front of you marks the spot your life changed forever? I felt that way the first time I stepped through these doors. I was officially a Seattle Crusader. I had done it. I was going to be an NFL player. Well, despite me being at the training center often this off season, I still get that feeling when I lock my car and get to the entrance.
Blowing out a steady breath, I let the nerves and uncertainties in my head go as I push open the door and take a step in. When I turn from the hallway and push into the locker room I’m instantly greeted with a chorus of shouts and names being hurled at me.
“Ayyyy, Slate!” Bennison calls out.
“Good to see you didn’t retire just yet, Old Man,” the rookie Taylor hollers as I walk by.
I smirk at the guys until I come up to stand by Seb. He claps me on the back as he begins sliding on his practice gear.
“How you feeling, man?”
“Good,” I nod. “Ready.”
Seb nods approvingly but doesn’t say anything else. Once we are suited up, we grab our water bottles and helmets as we step out onto the turf covered practice field. Dropping our stuff to the side, I begin doing the warmup stretches that Scar taught me. No way in hell I’m risking re-injuring myself day one of practice.
“Look at you,” Scar says as she walks over, squatting down next to me as she watches me warm up.
I smile at her, only a little bit of tension rising in my chest at seeing her for the first time since our kiss. Fuck. I can’t believe I kissed Scarlett Hayes. Even more so I can’t believe that I stopped it at just a kiss. Definitely not how I ever imagined it going, but it’s better this way and based on her genuine smile, I’m hoping she feels the same.
Kinda.
“I know,” I nod. “Can you believe I made it here? I didn’t think it was possible.”
She rolls her eyes and pushes my shoulder. “I knew it all along. You were just too busy throwing yourself a pity party to see.”
“Fuck, tell me how you really feel, Scar,” I laugh.
She raises an eyebrow at me as she smirks. “You probably don’t want the full truth.”
“Yeah, probably not,” I laugh.
“Hey, Doctor Babe! Got a sec?” Andrews calls out to Scar.
She rolls her eyes heavily as she stands, but I see a slight smile on her face as he jogs over to her. They are only about thirty feet away from me so well within hearing distance as I finish my warmup.
“Damion, I’m serious. You’re gonna get me in trouble. Aberton will fire my ass so quick if he thinks there is anything going on between us, which there isn’t in case you need the reminder,” she laughs with a smile that doesn’t look nearly annoyed as it should.
“Aw c’mon. You know I’d never let anything happen to my girl,” he smiles as he takes a step towards her.
My teeth clench together and my jaw ticks at the way he so casually refers to Scar as his girl. She’s not his girl. She’s not anyone’s. But if she was going to be anyone’s, she’d be mine, obviously. We haven’t been best friends for two decades for nothing.
“Besides, I was hoping we could change that,” Andrews says lowly.
“Change what?” Scar asks.
“There not being anything between us. C’mon, babe. One date. I promise you’ll never have more fun.”
Scar rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“What part of no don’t you get, Andrews? You’re cute, but you aren’t worth me losing my job.”
His bright white teeth flash as he smiles at her and reaches out to cup her elbow in his hand.
“You’ve never said that I’m cute before. I knew you were checking me out during our sessions.”
Her face turns bright red, which makes my stomach twist. What the fuck? She actually thinks he’s good looking? She’s been checking him out during their sessions? The thought that she could be getting as close to the other guys she works with as me sends a fucking inferno of anger inside me.
“C’mon, Scarlett. In all seriousness, I’d love to take you out. Get to know you outside all of this. What do you say? Saturday?”
I expect her to shoot him down instantly. How could she not? Instead, she stands there, smiling at him like she’s actually fucking debating it.
“Fine. One date. But you better keep your mouth shut about it. If any of the coaches catch wind of it, I’m going to deny it until my last breath.”
“Our little secret, babe,” he says with a wink before jogging onto the field with an extra pep in his step.
“You ready, bro?” Seb asks as he holds out his hand for me to stand up.
I take it as I scowl in the direction Andrews disappeared to, half tempted to find out what the fuck he’s playing at.
“What’s up with you?” Seb questions as he tries to see what I’m glaring at.
“Did you know Andrews has a thing for Scar?” I ask as I turn to face him.
He smirks before letting out a short laugh.
