Chapter Twenty-Three
Boone couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. It was nearly a week since the party at Nathan and Molly’s. Since Poppy left like a thief in the night and refused to talk to him about the why of it. All she kept saying was she needed space and time to figure things out.
What the hell? Who did that? Who walked out on a relationship without a reason? Boone might not know much, but this was a relationship. And yes, Amber showing up was bad timing, but hell, she meant nothing to Boone, and as far as he knew, he’d never given Poppy any reason not to trust him. When Amber tried to act as if they were still together, he’d set her straight and told her to leave. He was done playing games, and with Amber, there was always a game plan.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and tossed the hammer to the ground, disgusted with the whole thing. He should have told her to leave as soon as she’d come. Or, at the very least, to book into a hotel. But Poppy had acted as if he was still screwing Amber, when, in fact, he’d had her sign the damn divorce papers before she’d hightailed it back to New Orleans.
He was free and clear, and yet he felt the opposite.
“You’re going to destroy that railing, or your million-dollar hand.” Cam shoved a cold beer at him, and Boone grabbed it, downing half before coming up for air. He was helping his buddy build a new wheelchair ramp for a local kids’ club, trying his best to keep his mind off things.
It wasn’t working out too well.
“Screw my hand,” he growled, finishing the rest of the can before crushing it and tossing it into the garbage bin.
“Your teammates might have a problem with that.”
Boone’s head shot up. “What?”
Cam shrugged. “When were you going to tell us?”
He frowned. “Tell you what?”
Cam looked uncomfortable as he reached for the hammer. “I hate this shit, you know?”
“I don’t know what shit you’re talking about. You might want to elaborate.”
“I know about the contract. I know you’re headed back for another season. We all do.”
Confused, for a moment, all Boone could do was look at his friend in silence. “Who the hell told you that?”
“It hit Sports Net this morning, but I, ah, I knew a few days ago. I was just waiting for you to say something.”
“Son of a bitch.” Who the hell would leak something like that? Especially considering it was a bunch of bull? That’s why he’d gotten several cryptic text messages from his mother. She was pissed at him. “Wait, you said you knew before it hit the wire?”
Cam slowly nodded. The guy wasn’t one to gossip, so he looked more than a little uncomfortable.
“Blue told me.”
Now things were starting to make sense. “And Blue knows all these intimate details of my life, how?”
Cam cleared his throat. “I think Poppy might have filled her in.”
“Fucking Amber.” Of course. Her last fuck-you to Boone. She’d obviously leaked the story hoping to stir up shit, and she’d accomplished that. He grabbed hold of the railing because his fury was so great, if he didn’t, he’d break something. And he wanted to break something, do anything to expel this mad anger and energy inside him.
“What’s your ex got to do with it?”
“Everything,” he growled. “She shows up, and Poppy disappears from my life. It’s not a coincidence. I just thought Poppy would see through her bullshit. Where is she?”
Cam glanced away. Boone realized he was putting his pal on the spot, but that was the least of his worries.
“Cam? Where the hell is Poppy?” he ground out, grabbing his sweat-stained T-shirt, but he tossed it to the ground instead of pulling it on. He searched out the keys from the front pockets of his shorts and raised a questioning eyebrow at Cam.
“She’s with Blue and the girls. At the spa across the lake. Ruby’s place.”
“Can you watch Benji for me?” His boy was on the swing set with Tawny, the two of them in their own little world, singing songs and laughing like kids should.
“I’m not sure you showing up there is a good idea. They’re all in a bit of a state on account of the whole football thing.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what they think.” He looked pointedly at his friend. “The kids?”
“I got them.”
Boone didn’t bother to reply. He strode over to the swings and gave his son a quick hug. “I’ll be back in a little while to get you.”
“Why?” Benji asked. “I thought we were going to Tawny’s house.”
“No. We’re going home.”
“But I don’t want—”
“We’re going home with Poppy and Mabel.”
His son’s face broke wide open, and he jumped off the swing and hugged Boone as tightly as his little arms could. “I missed them so much, Daddy.”
“I do too.”
“And I have my gargoyle right here.” He scooped the figurine from his pocket. “Poppy will be so happy that he’s still good and not dirty and stuff. Though he has a little scratch on his head.”
He gave Benji one more hug and told him Cam was in charge. Then he headed for his truck, hopped in, and pointed it toward River Road, which he would follow around the lake to Poppy. He was done feeling like he was a spectator in the wreckage that was his life. Done walking two steps behind on the losing end of the field.
It was time he controlled the play. And just like that conference a few years back, it was fourth down and two to go. Two to win.
Boone was going to win. There was no other option.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Poppy was in heaven. Or as close to heaven as a person could get in Crystal Lake. Along with Molly, Sid, Blue, and Regan, she was facedown on a massage table beneath a gorgeous pergola heavy with honeysuckle as a breeze swept up across the lake.
And to think she’d almost stayed home, holed up in the dark, while her part-time employee, Christy, ran the shop and she hid from life and her mother.
And Boone.
“Oh my God, that feels good,” Molly moaned from a table a few feet away. “Whoever’s idea this was, thank you.”
“That would be me,” Blue murmured from the other side.
Poppy closed her eyes and drifted off, content to let the masseuse work his magic and get rid of the knots in her shoulders and neck. Content to forget about her troubles and maybe pretend that her personal life wasn’t in shambles.
Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes, and dammit, she was done crying. With a soft sigh, she enjoyed the ministrations as she drifted somewhere between being awake and sleeping.
The young man working on her had just finished her legs when she heard an angry voice from somewhere behind her.
“Sir, you can’t be here. This is a private affair, and it’s not…well, you need to leave.” This from the older woman working on Molly.
Poppy’s eyes flew open, and she noticed some things as she looked through the donut-shaped hole in the massage table at the floor beneath her.
Big dirty work boots.