Nice Girls Finish Last (15 page)

‘
I'm
not cheating you, Lena.' His knuckles were white on the railing—only half a metre along from her own bloodless fists.

‘Not with another woman. But your “my parents screwed up so I'll never make the mistake of getting married myself” line is a convenient excuse for serial monogamy and not committing. That way you get to play the field in a kind of code that's acceptable to you. That way you don't have to admit all you're really interested in from me is short-term sex.'

‘We never made promises.
You
wanted a series of one-night stands.'

‘That's right and I was wrong. One day you'll meet some woman who has it all and you'll offer everything you've said you never will. But that woman's not me. It'll never,
ever
be me.'

She paused to draw breath, but also because she had some stupid weak hope that he'd interrupt her now and shout that she was wrong and that she
was
that woman.

Of course he didn't. He just stood pale, his chest rising and falling fast, his jaw clamped.

‘You make that excuse to women like me because you know we don't have whatever it is that would hold your interest for long.' She tossed her head back, summoning the last of her defiance. ‘I refuse to be so needy again. I deserve more than this.'

‘But you were the one who stipulated this was purely physical in the first place.'

‘Because I wanted you,' she shouted. ‘But stupidly I want
more.
I thought I could control that but I can't and you're not ever going to give it to me.'

She was better on her own than waiting to be ditched. Than giving up her heart and not getting his in return. ‘Admit it, Seth, you don't want more from me.'

He didn't deny it. He just stared at her, just looked blown away. It made her all the more angry. She wished he would say it. Wished he'd end this as decisively as she knew he could. Instead
she
had to push it. To sever the last thin thread of attraction.

‘You know you could never trust me.' She acted up, playing the man-stealing vixen she'd been labelled. ‘You'd always wonder. I did it once—knowingly slept with a guy who belonged to another woman. A married man. I lied to everyone. Really well.' Most of all to herself. ‘I
deliberately
tried to take him away from his wife. How could you ever think I'd be faithful? Who's to say I haven't been already with you?'

He'd gone paler. Good.

‘You loathe infidelity. Now you're looking at the queen of it. Someone as virtuous as you must surely hate me. After all, it's always the tart who's to blame.'

She hated him then for the heavy judgment in his absolute silence. ‘But you know what, Seth? You're not that perfect, either.' She turned the venom from herself to him. ‘There were shades of grey in what you did with me. You slept with me that first night despite knowing it would make things awkward for me the next day when you came calling for your little favour. But you wanted your good time and you got it and damn the little question of ethics or fair play. You push everything as close to the edge as you can. And you parade your independence like it's so damn great, but it's just a mask for selfishness and an inability to
care.
You're so closed off, so unforgiving that you can't even
bring yourself to find out if your own flesh and blood is okay. Well,
that's
not okay. And I'm through with you.' She stopped, stared, her fury spent.

He stood so still—like granite. Unfeeling. Uncaring.

Tears blinded her. Desperate to hide them, she turned and took to the stairs as if a monster were at her heels.

‘Excuse me.' She pushed past some rugby player standing in the doorway and slipped through the crowd out to the exit corridor on the other side.

She'd done it. Ended everything between them. And all it had taken was the truth.

 

A kaleidoscope of images whirled in Seth's head. Confused emotions rioted in his body. He stared at the empty stadium stairs. Dazedly thought how she'd taken them three at a time to get back into the VIP suite. He was totally shocked and it was taking too long to process the last four-minute nightmare. Of all the things he'd thought might happen tonight, it sure as hell hadn't been that. He breathed, trying to get the oxygen hit that might make the smothering fog clear. But it didn't. All he had were questions and questions and a hellish bad ache compressing his chest. She'd struck when he'd least expected it, where he'd least expected. She'd hurled a mangled mess of past and present at him. Rejected him. Then run for good measure.

He swore as anger rose—burning, blinding, bloody bitter anger. How the hell was he supposed to react when she didn't even give him a second to think, let alone answer? He might be selfish, but she was the biggest coward he'd ever met.

It was only a minute before he followed her. But in the crowded room he instantly sensed the void.

She'd already gone.

I
F IT
had just been sex, living without it would be easy. Lena had lived without sex for months. And if sex was all she'd wanted, she could get it elsewhere. She could say yes to that newest recruit and spend the night with a beautiful, fit body.

But it was so much more than sex. Sitting on her sofa, Lena curled into a ball and cried. She cried because she missed him. She cried because what she had to offer wasn't enough. She cried because he didn't have the humanity she needed him to. He didn't seem to have the same need as anyone else—to be part of a team. To want support and companionship and understanding.

The night dragged. She couldn't sleep for that last little hope that he'd call by—that he'd come after her.

He didn't.

She made work extremely busy, begging extra tasks from Dion. For three days she basically lived at the stadium. She'd blocked Seth's number from her phone, set his email address as spam so she had no idea if he tried to contact her. But she was certain he wouldn't now. He must hate her. She never mentioned him to Dion, who never mentioned him back. She'd get over him—one minute at a time.

Wednesday morning she walked out of the tunnel on her way to deliver a parcel to the coach. The boys were training on the pitch already. Her tight control on her thoughts
slipped—there was no amateur extra out on the field today. No gorgeous guy laughing with a bunch of kids in his grey tee. Memory washed over her, a powerful wave that she closed her eyes to endure. So she didn't see the rope lying across her path. But she sure as hell felt the concrete.

She blinked and saw a montage of faces moving above her like a wobble board. She quickly shut her eyes again, screwing them tight because the motion-sickness thing was still with her.

‘Lena? Lena?
Lena?
' One rugby player seemed to be uncertain if she was who she was.

‘Get Gabe.' Someone else, possibly Ty.

‘I'm fine,' she said firmly, keeping her eyes shut.

‘You're not. Don't move.'

She had no intention of moving. It'd be great if she could slink off and hide, but it was totally impossible.

‘Is it just your head hurting?'

Actually the only thing hurting was her heart. The rest of her was numb. ‘I don't know.'

‘Can you feel this?' Impersonal hands pressed on her ankles, up to her knees, then shifted to her arms.

She nodded slightly before wincing as pain suddenly pounded in her temple.

‘Up we go.'

Someone picked her up and held her close to his chest. Not the right guy.

‘I'm so embarrassed.' She'd never tripped in her heels before. Now she'd given the guys real reason to hassle her about them.

‘Forget it.'

It was Gabe carrying her. If she had a penchant for moody dark-eyed men, she'd have fallen quite easily for Doctor Gabe months ago as so many of those dancers had, but she preferred the blue-eyed, make-you-laugh type. He
put her on a bench in the change room and made her hold a cloth to her head. She lifted it away a second and felt sick when she saw it was blood-soaked already. Ty and Jimmy squatted down in front of her while Gabe went fussing for something in his bag of gear.

‘You need us to do anything, Lena?' Jimmy asked. ‘Don't want us to take someone down in a heavy head-high tackle or anything?'

She looked at them, caught between mortification at them knowing she was heartbroken and a bit of gratitude because they cared.

‘Oh, boys,' she half growled. ‘I can take care of myself.'

‘We don't like to see you hurt. And, uh—' Ty gestured to his head ‘—not just there.'

‘That's really nice of you but…' She trailed off as acid tears pricked her eyes. ‘Oh, hell, that is really nice of you.'

‘You're our bossy sister, you know?'

She nodded and instantly stopped with a wince. ‘And you're all annoying brothers.'

‘He's a fool.'

Yeah, they knew. Of course they'd all have seen what was going on the last couple of weeks. And what wasn't now. ‘Can we just forget about it and act like normal?'

‘Sure.' Ty nodded.

‘You guys need to focus on your game. And I've stuff to do. We'll do that, okay?' But they'd just slid the smallest cushion beneath her battered heart. They cared. They appreciated her. And that was a smear of salve that she really needed right now.

She had a great job. She had value. She'd pick herself up, dust herself down and get on with it. She'd work harder still. As agonising as it was, she knew now she could do the right thing. She was stronger, wiser, more capable. And
maybe one day, she might meet someone who'd appreciate her, know her faults and love her anyway.

One day a long way off from today.

The change-room door hit the wall with a bang. ‘Where is—?'

Lena stared, clutching the bloodied rag to her head as Seth stopped talking and strode to where she sat. His presence ripped away that cushion and smashed her raw heart back onto jagged rocks for seagulls to peck at.

‘Seth was with me when the boys buzzed for Gabe.' Dion hovered in the doorway.

With Dion. Not here to see her. Her hope's last feeble flare was shot down just like that.

‘I'm fine.' Lena forced a fake smile. ‘I'm fine.' Could they all please leave now? Especially him.

It was only Ty and Jimmy who backed out, sending Seth glowering glances before taking Dion with them. Lena was acutely aware he was too busy staring at her to see them.

‘That's a hell of a gash. Does she need stitches?' Seth whirled and looked at Gabe, who now had his gloves on and his oversized scary-looking staple gun at the ready. ‘Should you be doing this?'

Lena saw Gabe's eyes kindle at the doubt in Seth's tone.

‘In between the sprained ankles and torn tendons I do a spot of stitching, as well,' the doctor said coolly.

‘But this is her face.'

Gabe stood tall. ‘I've done plenty of facial cuts and there are no scars on any of my patients. It would ruin the calendar.' He knelt before Lena. ‘So there'll be no scar on you, either, sweets. Not from me.'

The resulting silence was so pointed it could have cut lead.

Gabe worked carefully, quietly. Lena was frozen stiff. Seth stood slightly to the side, not taking his eyes off her.
She couldn't let herself pay attention to it. He was here to see Dion. Not her.

Finally Gabe rose and peeled off his gloves. ‘There you go, watch for a headache because there might be a touch of concussion. So don't be alone tonight.'

She really wished he hadn't said that in front of Seth. She smoothed down her skirt and forced her legs to hold steady as she stood. She didn't want to have to take any assistance.

Gabe grabbed his bag and left the room. Lena breathed slowly a couple of times to make sure she could get out of there without keeling over again. Seth still just stood watching—too close. She had to break the dreadful silence somehow.

‘You had a meeting with Dion?'

‘You've been working hard?' He asked his question at the same time as she did.

She waited a second and then answered, ‘Very.' She straightened her shoulders and took firm steps to the door. ‘It's going well.'

‘Great,' he clipped, suddenly looking everywhere but at her. ‘I guess I'll see you…'

It was just a polite word of farewell that he didn't even finish. There was certainly no offer to keep an eye on her possibly concussed self.

No. There was no depth behind that initial moment of concern. No hidden meaning. Fighting back tears, Lena carefully walked back up to her office. She closed the door, thankful for the ton of work on her desk that she could bury her whole self in.

 

Seth strode—okay, sprinted—out of there. Bitter-tasting spit filled his mouth. He was so near to literally spilling his guts. It wasn't her bloodied head he found horrific, but her hard shell—her unresponsive expression.

He hated it. Wished he hated her. He'd tried for days to push her out of his mind. He'd flown out of the city and worked and worked and worked. But it hadn't worked. As soon as he'd landed back in Christchurch he'd come straight to the stadium and got upstairs in time to hear that Gabe was needed. For Lena. He'd sprinted to that change room and his heart had both leapt and stopped at the sight of her.

He desperately wanted to talk to her but one look told him the timing was impossible. It was horribly obvious that she didn't want him there. Didn't need him. So cold. That hurt more than anything ever had or could. She'd ended it and she was fine about it. How could she be the same woman who'd whispered her love so sweetly late that night? Or did she whisper that to anyone who happened to be in her bed?

No. He couldn't believe that. But nor could he believe her confession about her affair, either. Hurt surged higher, because she'd never have told him about it if it weren't true. So now he wanted to erase the whole damn thing. He wanted not to care.

But he couldn't stop.

He was almost at his car when he saw Ty, the captain, walking towards him.

‘Is Lena okay?' Ty asked shortly.

‘Yeah.' Seth glanced up. The other player from the change room was watching close, clearly the back-up. ‘She seems fine.'

‘You think?' Ty asked, all ominous.

But that was fine, because Seth felt like fighting. Bare knuckles and blood. ‘Doing the big-brother act?'

‘What makes you think I feel brotherly about Lena?' Ty glared back. ‘She turned me down like she did everyone else, but I meant it more than most. And she deserves someone who can give her what she needs.'

‘You think you know what she needs?' Seth
hated
this.

‘Maybe I've got more of an idea than you.'

Seth didn't bother answering. Just got into his car, slammed the door and fired the engine, wanting to go faster than sound and burn the hell out. He couldn't bear the thought of that beautiful woman laughing at that guy's lame jokes the way she did at his. Couldn't bear the thought of her snuggled on a sofa with him and commentating her way through the replay of the day.

But she'd refused Ty. She'd refused all those boys. In the face of all those eligible offers, she'd taken up none. But she'd taken Seth on.

Why?

Within five minutes of getting to his apartment, he was bare-chested and bare-knuckled and beating the crap out of his punchbag. Trying to beat the bitter hurt out of his body. For the first time in three days he let himself listen to the arguments endlessly circling in his head.

He'd hated his father, but
loathed
his father's lover. So he hated that Lena had been the other woman like that. He hated that she'd lied and cheated. But he couldn't hate
her.

Because didn't he know how it felt to be rejected? Didn't he know how awful it felt—not to be enough? His mother had never said anything to him direct, but late one miserable night as his parents' marriage had blown up he'd heard her on the phone to a friend. Bawling her eyes out, heartbroken that her husband's mistress was pregnant. Because she'd wanted more children. Because Seth wasn't enough for her. And not enough to save her marriage. So he'd learned he didn't have whatever it was necessary to make someone else happy. Nothing he'd done seemed to be enough. And he'd decided that if he was going to get on in this world, it had to be all his own doing. He wouldn't ever depend on another like that for happiness.

He punched harder. Because that old rule had taken a battering recently.

Lena had made mistakes but Seth could understand why. His father's abandonment had left him hungry for success, but Lena's neglect and constant inferior comparison to her super-siblings had left her hungry for approval, for love. That gnawing desire to be needed. And yeah, Seth understood Lena's need for parental approval or support. She was right. In the heart of every kid, that desire would always have a root. Even grown-up kids. Hadn't he, even in a tiny part of his heart, wanted that? He'd wanted it from his father and it was too late now. Didn't he want his mum to take what he offered her—even just the damn money so he could feel as if he supported her and was somehow of use? So much for his supposed emotional independence.

So he couldn't judge, could he? Because he was as damaged as she. She was right; he was selfish. He wanted his fun his own way. But she was wrong, too. His not wanting commitment wasn't entirely a convenient excuse. It was grounded in fear. Because if he lost all his money, his status, even his damn fitness, would any woman still be interested? He doubted it. His own father hadn't stayed interested even as his success was blossoming.

So he protected his heart by keeping things casual and always being the one to end it. He saw now that Lena had tried to do the same. She'd tried to protect herself from him. That was why she'd said no after their first one-night stand. She was more emotionally aware than he and had feared she was headed for trouble if she messed with him much more. That hunt for self-protection had been at the root of her ‘non-exclusive' offer. It had stemmed from her insecurity. She really did believe she didn't have enough to offer him.

So now? Where the hell did they go from here?

He smacked the bag, his fists sore, then raw, then heading
to numb. He stewed over her past. But in the end all he could think was that people made mistakes. And he wanted to know how she'd come to make hers. He had to try to understand. She had to help him do that. Because as flawed and fickle as she might once have been, he loved her. He wanted to be with her. And he wanted to convince her he could love her the way she needed to be loved. He wanted to be enough for her.

But given how insecure she was, he knew she needed more than words. She needed incontrovertible proof. So for her, and only for her, he'd consider the marriage deal. If she wanted the public ceremony and the piece of paper, he'd give her that. Hell, he could give her a really public declaration—he could do a huge public proposal. Bare his soul in a stadium full of people.