Wildcard: Volume Three

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand and silence him.

“How many times have you cheated on your wife?” I ask.

“Excuse me?” he gasps. “How dare you —”

“Cut the crap, Matt,” I snort, storming over to him. “You think I care about your inability to be faithful to your wife? No. That makes you a wanker, but forcing someone into sex just because you think you paid for her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Matt growls, perplexed. “I’ve never—”

“You have and you did,” I yell, slamming my fists down on his desk. “It was Scarlett, Matt. You raped her. How could you do that to someone? How could you think you own someone like that?”

He steps out from around his desk. I stare into his eyes and all I see is fear and regret. Fear that maybe his wife will find out? Maybe she should know.

“Ryder, please. I was going through some shit. I don’t even remember it that clearly. It was years ago and I had no idea it was her.”

“You might not remember,” I say softly. “But she does. She remembers every fucking day. You ruined her life.”

“Let me explain…” His voice trails off and I laugh, because there is nothing he could possibly say to me right now to make this right.

I reach out and grab his shirt, swinging my fist into his face. He stumbles back into his desk and falls to the floor, cursing.

“That’s for fucking up her life. Goodbye, Matt.”

I walk out the door and don’t look back.

Epilogue

Eight weeks later

Ryder

“Hey.” I smile at Scar, and pull her into my arms. She looks as stunning as she did this morning. I run my hand over her slight baby bump as I press my lips against hers. She laughs, running her hands through my hair.

“You’re in a good mood.” She giggles.

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“Aren’t I always?” I tease. “You better not have been unpacking,” I warn her. She holds her hands up innocently, but the glint in her eye tells me she has been. “Don’t make me punish you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her waist.

Our new place is in one of the best school districts in Chicago—complete with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Scar is twelve weeks pregnant and Jake is still insisting that he won’t accept a sister.

Things are great. They really couldn’t be going any better. I love my coaching role—even if Cally still is a giant pain in my ass—and I don’t hate living in the states as much as I thought I might. But I might not be saying that in a few years.

Jake’s treatment is progressing well. The medication is still doing its thing, and while we have no idea what the future holds, we have to stay positive, because the alternative isn’t an option.

Tony remained in a coma for forty-five days, at which point he passed away. Scar still struggles with the guilt she feels over his death, even though she had nothing to do with it. We went to his funeral, because in a way it was like burying her past once and for all. I think it helped, but I also think it’s something she’s going to carry with her forever.

I haven’t spoken to Matt since I punched him, and I don’t intend to. As far as I’m concerned, he is a part of my past. I never told Scar that I went to see him that day.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” Scar asks, raising her eyebrows.

I narrow my eyes at her. “We’ll continue this later, but I swear if you do anything else to this house, I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“I like the sound of that, you kinky bastard,” she giggles, biting her lip.

“I’ll see you later,” I whisper, kissing her again, and wishing I could skip this training session. But that wouldn’t be setting a very good example. “Love you.”

She kisses me in such a way that has me on the verge of calling in sick, and then pushes me out the door, a smirk on her lips.