Face Off (The Baltimore Banners Book 10) Read online

  Cindy moved toward the table then stopped and looked around her. She wouldn’t be as noticeable if she sat at the booth. But if anyone joined them, she’d be blocked in. A surge of panic flared through her at the thought and she quickly pushed it away. Nobody would be joining them, especially if they couldn’t see her. And it wasn’t like she really knew anyone here. No, she’d be safe enough in the booth.

  She slid onto the bench then glanced behind her and sighed in relief when she realized the back was effectively hiding her from anyone’s view. Maggie tossed her bag onto the opposite bench.

  “I’m going to go tell Dillon we’re here and grab some food. What do you want?”

  “I—” Cindy stopped, her mind suddenly blank. What did she want? When was the last time she’d even thought that way regarding food? She laughed, the sound rusty and a little brittle. “I’m not sure. Everything?”

  Maggie gave her a small smile of understanding. “I’ll pick something out. How about to drink?”

  “Just water. Or maybe iced tea if they have it.”

  “Got it. Are you going to be okay over here by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure? I can get Dillon to get the food and come back to wait with you if you want.”

  Cindy blinked back tears at the understanding in Maggie’s voice. She understood. Maybe not everything, not the details, but she understood. And she didn’t judge. Not like her mother seemed to judge her lately, watching her with suspicious glances all day, who suddenly didn’t seem to know what to say to her or how to act around her. Cindy couldn’t blame her, though. How could she, after what had happened with her father?

  “I’ll be fine,” she repeated. Maggie offered her another smile then walked away, leaving Cindy alone in her isolated corner.

  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to relax. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe, after she ate, she might want to mingle. No, not mingle. It was too crowded for that. But maybe she could sit sideways on the bench and watch, pretend she was part of everything going on.

  Sorrow fell over her, the weight of it heavy on her shoulders. Was this what she had to look forward to for the rest of her life? Watching from the sidelines, confined to the role of spectator? Feeling but not feeling because the feelings were all wrong?

  Her doctor said no. She had reassured her, said things would get better with time. The medication would help, as would the therapy. Cindy was already getting better, or so her doctor said. She could wake up tomorrow as her old self.

  But there’d been a hundred tomorrows and she still wasn’t her old self. She might never be her old self again. Worse, the tomorrow she was waiting for might come, only to be ripped away a few months or even years later.

  Cindy didn’t know if she could handle that, not if it was anything like what happened when she came back from Maggie’s wedding trip. Where would she be now if not for Maggie’s interference?

  Would she have become like her father?

  She closed her eyes and pushed the thought away. She couldn’t think like that. Those were dangerous thoughts. Self-defeating and harmful. So she took a deep breath, tried to force her mind inward as she focused on the exercises her therapist had given her.

  Crystal blue water.

  Fine white sand.

  Smoky blue eyes—

  No, don’t think about that. Not now, not here.

  Crystal blue water.

  Fine white sand.

  Chapter Nine

  Ethan sat the empty plate on the cluttered table then stepped back, nearly bumping into Dillon when he did. He muttered an apology and tried to step around him but Dillon caught his arm, stopping him.

  “You ever going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing’s going on. I keep telling you that.” He tried to pull his arm away but Dillon’s hold stayed in place. Ethan clenched his jaw, knew more questions were coming. Questions he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to answer. He was saved from the questions—and from making an ass out of himself by yanking his arm away—when Ian stopped next to them, a frown on his face.

  “Tell me not to kick his ass.”

  “What?” The question came out in stereo, asked by Ethan and Dillon at the same time. Ian glanced at both of them then frowned. He raised a glass to his lips and took a long swallow, his brows lowering even more as he glared at something across the room.

  Ethan followed his gaze, not sure what he was looking at. Ian’s wife, Kayli, was off to their right, talking with some of the wives and girlfriends. That wasn’t where Ian was looking, though. His gaze seemed to be focused on a couple in the corner.

  Ethan recognized Corbin, but had no idea who the girl was that he was talking to. She looked young, maybe twenty, with dark blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail that accented her high cheekbones. Corbin leaned closer and said something to her, making her laugh. And Ethan could have sworn Ian just growled. He turned toward him, caught Dillon’s eye instead and realized he hadn’t imagined things: Ian really had growled.

  But why?

  “Okay, I give up. Why do you look like you want to tear Corbin’s head off?”

  Dillon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, seriously. Why do you care who he’s talking to?”

  Ian lowered the glass then pinned them both with a narrowed gaze. Ethan took a step back, knocking into Dillon. “Because that’s my niece he’s talking to.”

  “Oh.” Ethan looked over again. He’d never met Ian’s niece, had no idea who she was. But Corbin was harmless enough and it looked like they were only talking.

  Maybe.

  “She’s interning with the marketing department this season and Kayli thought it would be a good idea to bring her tonight. Let her meet some of the guys.”

  “Yeah, okay. That sounds reasonable.”

  The look Ian shot toward Dillon made it clear that he didn’t agree. His frown deepened. “She’s only eighteen.”

  “And Corbin’s only twenty. And they’re only talking. I don’t get it.”

  Ethan stepped away from Dillon, just in case Ian decided to do something stupid, like throw a drink at him. Or a fist. He completely understood what Dillon was saying. He even agreed with him. But it was obvious that Ian had a different opinion.

  He leaned forward, a muscle working in his jaw as he stared at Dillon. “He’s a hockey player. And she’s my niece.”

  Dillon laughed and held his hands up in surrender. Ian muttered something under his breath then turned on his heel and walked away, his stride filled with purpose. Ethan watched as Kayli intercepted him with a hand against his chest. She leaned forward and whispered something in his ear then grabbed his hand and tugged him in the other direction.

  Ethan chuckled then turned to Dillon. “Guess it’s a good thing he doesn’t have kids yet, huh?”

  “He will soon enough. Didn’t you hear? Kayli’s pregnant.”

  “Seriously? She’s pregnant, too?” Ethan glanced around the room, his gaze studying all the couples. Alec and AJ, with their son Tanner and another one on the way. Justin Tome and his wife, Val, and their baby daughter. Nikolai and Bobbi Petrovich and their two kids. And JP Larocque hadn’t said anything yet but the guys were already taking bets that his wife, Emily, was pregnant, too. “So did somebody put something in the water around this place?”

  “Who knows?” Dillon’s eyes scanned the crowd as he took a sip of beer from the bottle. He jumped when a pair of hands slid around his waist then smiled as Maggie stepped beside him. She pulled the bottle from his hand, took a sip, then handed it back.

  “Hey there, Mr. Frayser.”

  “Hey back, Mrs. Frayser.” Dillon brushed a kiss against her forehead, a goofy grin on his face. Ethan groaned and rolled his eyes, which earned him a light punch in the shoulder from Maggie.

  “You two are so sickeningly sweet, it makes my teeth hurt.”

  “You’re just jealous.”

  He knew Maggie was only teasing but the wo
rds sliced through him. Jealous? Yeah, he was. How could he not be when all around him were happy couples, married and in love? Or almost married and in love. Maybe not everyone on the team—there was still a handful of single, unattached guys left.

  And he was one of them. There wasn’t anything wrong with that—except he thought that was going to change after Maggie and Dillon’s wedding. He had wanted it to change.

  Apparently, he’d been the only one to think that. Yeah, obviously, since he hadn’t seen or spoken to Cindy since that afternoon in the airport.

  Maggie stepped closer to Dillon’s side as he draped his arm around her shoulders. “So what were you guys talking about?”

  “Just how there must be something in the water because everyone’s pregnant.”

  “Not everyone!” Maggie laughed. Did she feel Dillon tense beside her? If she did, it didn’t show. But Ethan didn’t miss the brief flare of disappointment on his friend’s face. He wanted to say something, to tell Dillon it was too early yet—Christ, they’d only been married since July, they had plenty of time. But Maggie was talking again, counting on her fingers.

  “AJ. Kayli. Emily—”

  “So she is pregnant. I thought so.”

  “Three months. I don’t think they’re making an official announcement yet, because of what happened before.” Maggie frowned, her lips moving soundlessly as she held up more fingers. “Bridget thinks she might be but don’t tell anyone yet.”

  “Bridget is?” Ethan looked over his shoulder, his gaze immediately landing on the woman’s bright red hair. Derek stood next to her, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Maggie was probably wrong about that last part—Ethan had a hunch Derek knew. “Do you think they’ll finally get hitched?”

  Maggie shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t think Bridget’s in any hurry to get married, which is kind of funny considering her background, you know?”

  Dillon frowned at Maggie, curiosity clear in his eyes. “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “You don’t honestly think we just sit there and watch games every night, do you? We talk.” She grinned and leaned closer. “About everything.”

  Dillon’s face paled. “Everything? Seriously? Like—what’s everything?”

  “I’ll tell you later. I need to go get some food first. Cindy said she’s actually hungry and I want to make sure she eats.”

  Ethan choked on his swallow of beer, spilling some of it down the front of his shirt. He ran a hand across his chest, trying to ignore the odd looks from Maggie and Dillon as he glanced around.

  Had he heard Maggie correctly? Cindy was here? But where? He didn’t see her come in, which didn’t really mean anything because he hadn’t seen Maggie come in, either. But she wasn’t behind Maggie, she wasn’t by the bar. She wasn’t anywhere he could see.

  So yeah, he probably hadn’t heard right.

  And why did he care? He didn’t want to, not after doing his best to put her out of his mind for the last four months. He shouldn’t care. So why was his heart suddenly pounding in his chest? And why did it feel like some invisible band was being tightened around his lungs, making it hard to breathe? If he didn’t care, why was he in danger of dropping the bottle in his hand because his palms were so fucking sweaty?

  And since when did he start lying to himself?

  He cleared his throat and looked at Maggie, trying to act casual. Nonchalant. “You, uh, said Cindy was here? I don’t see her.”

  Something flashed across Maggie’s face as she exchanged a silent look with Dillon. He pursed his lips and gave his head a quick shake before looking away. What was that silent communication for? Oh shit. Could she be here with someone else? Was that what Dillon had been trying to tell his wife?

  No, that didn’t make sense. Neither one of them knew what had happened on St. Thomas—unless Cindy told Maggie and Maggie told Dillon. But if that were the case, Dillon would have said something to him. Wouldn’t he?

  The couple shared another look filled with silent communication then Maggie turned to him, her brows lowered just a little over her eyes. “She’s sitting at one of the booths and—Ethan, no. Don’t.”

  A small hand reached for his arm, holding him in place as he tried to step around them. He glanced at Dillon then looked down at Maggie, not bothering to hide his confusion—or his anger. Did Maggie pick up on it? Probably. “So—what? I can’t go over to say hello?”

  “Ethan, she’s not…” Maggie’s voice drifted off and she looked to Dillon. For reassurance? Something else? Dillon shrugged but wouldn’t look at Ethan.

  “They were friends. I don’t think it would hurt.”

  The pounding in Ethan’s chest grew stronger, echoing in his head as blood pounded in his temple. But this—this was different than his reaction a few minutes ago. A chill raced down his spine as dread seeped into his limbs. “What’s going on? What are you two hiding?”

  “It’s nothing.” Maggie’s grip gentled on his arm, almost reassuring now. “It’s just…Cindy’s been sick and—”

  Ethan didn’t need to hear anything else—didn’t want to hear anything else. Four months of anger, four months of frustration and confusion, melted into bone-deep concern as soon as Maggie finished speaking. He pulled his arm from her grip, ignoring her calls as he moved past them, toward the booths. Cindy had been sick and nobody could bother to tell him? What the fuck?

  And what kind of sick, that she couldn’t be bothered to at least answer the phone? Return his calls? Fear and anxiety mixed together, clawing just beneath the surface of his skin. He stumbled against an empty chair, cursed and pushed it out of his way. His eyes scanned the empty booths and tables, searching for Cindy. She wasn’t there. Had she left already? Gone to the ladies’ room?

  No, there she was, tucked into the corner of a booth, hidden from everyone’s sight. His steps slowed, his lungs burning with the need to drag in air as he stared at her.

  Her eyes were closed, her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Her pale lips moved silently, almost like she was talking to herself. Ethan blinked, seeing her but barely recognizing her, not at first.

  She’d lost weight. A lot of weight—which couldn’t be good for her, not when she had already been thin. The sweatshirt she was wearing was too big, hanging on her slight frame, making her look even smaller. Her skin was pale, her cheekbones even more prominent in the drawn features of her face. The vibrant blonde hair that had glowed under the Caribbean sun was longer now, straight and limp. The color was darker, duller, the shine he remembered gone from the once-vibrant strands.

  He swallowed against the thickness in his throat and pulled a deep breath into his lungs before taking a step forward. He hesitated, suddenly unsure if he should approach her.

  Suddenly afraid of seeing her, talking to her.

  He cursed himself for being a coward. This was Cindy. They were friends. They had once been lovers, if only for that brief week. But he had wanted that week to continue, had hoped they’d keep seeing each other. He’d wanted that from the first time he met her.

  So why was he suddenly afraid to approach her?

  Because he didn’t know what was wrong with her. A hundred thoughts whirled through his mind, each one filled with possibilities that frightened him. Was she still sick? Was she recovering?

  Was this something she could even recover from?

  The last thought jarred him, knocking the breath from his lungs with so much force he actually stumbled back. He reached for a chair, his hand groping blindly until he found it and gripped it. The hard edges of dark wood cut into his palm, the pain somehow reassuring.

  Maggie had said Cindy had been sick. Past tense. She wasn’t still sick, she was recovering, getting better. Maggie would have said something if that wasn’t the case.

  Ethan tried to take comfort in that thought even though he was certain it wasn’t true. Neither Maggie nor Dillon had even said anything about Cindy being sick in the first place. Why would he think Maggie would tell him anyt
hing now?

  He sucked in another deep breath and released the chair, forced his feet to move. One step. Two. One more. He was no more than two feet from the table when Cindy’s head jerked up, her eyes wide, the green depths filled with bright panic. Her face paled even more as she moved deeper into the corner and looked around, as if searching for a way to escape.

  Ethan took a hasty step back. His pulse kicked up a notch, from surprise and from fear. Why did she look so scared? So panicked? Maybe he had just startled her.

  He didn’t believe the words even as he thought them.

  He shoved his hands into his back pockets and forced a smile to his face. “Hey. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Her gaze slid up, met his, skittered away. She shifted and wrapped her arms even more tightly around her middle without saying a word.

  Almost like she didn’t recognize him.

  Pain, sharp and biting, sliced through him. How could she not recognize him? No, that was just his imagination. Of course she recognized him.

  Didn’t she?

  He took a hesitant step closer, oddly afraid of scaring her, which didn’t make sense at all. Why would she be afraid of him?

  “It’s, uh, Ethan.”

  She looked up again, her gaze finally meeting his. Something flashed in their depths. Irritation? Sadness? He couldn’t tell.

  “I’m not an idiot. I know who you are.”

  The words almost made him smile because they sounded so much like the Cindy he knew. Sharp, impatient, hinting at the humor that always lurked beneath the surface. But the smile didn’t materialize because even though it sounded like Cindy…it wasn’t. Something was off. Too forced. Too vacant. Too strained.

  He stepped closer, stopped when he saw how her body stiffened. Ethan tried to force another smile and failed. It didn’t matter, not when she was staring down at the polished surface of the table.

  “Good, because that would have been a huge blow to my ego if you didn’t remember me.”

  Cindy didn’t even look up, making him wonder if the words sounded as lame as they felt. Other words came to mind, words and questions that hovered on his lips.