Anton (Chicago Blaze 1) - Page 12
Her eyes widen in alarm. “How do you know that?”
Before I can answer, she relaxes, seeming to come up with the answer herself. “Oh, the cheating, you mean?”
I nod, wishing I could kick Adam in the face.
“Yeah, if only it was just that,” she says softly.
Now I want to do more than kick him in the face. “What else did he do to you?”
She shakes her head and looks at the ground. “Your concern is really nice, Anton, but—”
“You’ve got it covered?” I offer. “Don’t need any help from me?”
“Exactly. But th—”
“I’m not buying it,” I cut in. “If you had even one good friend in your life right now, you wouldn’t be walking home through a shitty part of town at 3:00 a.m. in the freezing cold. How far is it?”
She sighs softly. “About three miles.”
I cringe. “And if you had the money, you wouldn’t be walking, either.”
Mia bristles. “I grew up on the Southside, Anton. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, I know it. But I’m not getting in my car and driving home when this whole situation is complete bullshit. Adam froze you out on the money because you left him, didn’t he?”
“Pretty much.”
“Fuck that. I’m parked around the corner. Let’s go warm up in my car and I’ll drive you home.”
She hesitates. “You promise this stays between us?”
“I do.” I take off my wool coat and wrap it around her, because her coat is a thin piece of shit. “The only way you’re able to trust a person is by trusting them. I keep my word, so give me a shot, okay?”
She exhales a breath into the cold winter Chicago air, and then falls into step beside me as I walk to my car.
When I unlock the passenger door to my Range Rover and open it, she gives me a skeptical look. “Just a ride. I’m not fucking you.”
“Jesus, what kind of guys have you been hanging out with?”
She steps up into the car and I close the door. I wonder as I walk around the car to get in if she’s seeing anyone. I really hope not. Not that she necessarily wants to date me, either, but…fuck, I’d do anything for a chance.
I can hear Alexei’s voice in my head reminding me that she’s not just married, but married to one of my teammates.
I start the engine and turn on the heat and the seat warmers.
“I haven’t been in a car for a while,” Mia says.
“Do you walk everywhere?”
She shrugs. “I don’t go many places. I walk to work and the grocery store, my classes are online this semester, and I take the train to see my grandpa.”
“Where’s he live?”
“In a nursing home.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is he there long-term?”
“Yeah. He has Alzheimer’s.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “He’s in a good place. I get to see him twice a week.”
“So you left Adam and he wouldn’t let you take anything, and you tend bar to make ends meet?”
Mia nods. “But I’m not complaining. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
“Do you want to divorce him?”
She scoffs. “More than anything.”
I’m letting out a battle cry on the inside, but I don’t let my happiness show.
“So why don’t you?”
Her shoulders slump. “I’ve already said more than I should’ve.”
“He’s trying to fuck you over.”
Mia smiles sadly. “Pretty much.”
“So get a good attorney and take that fucker to the cleaners.”
“Bartenders don’t make good attorney money.”
“I’ll give you the money.”
Mia leans farther back against the car seat. “You don’t even know me, Anton.”
“I know enough. Besides, Adam deserves a solid ass fucking.”
She laughs at that.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “Sometimes I open my mouth and the hockey player in me comes out.”
“I get it. And thank you for the offer, really. But I’m okay. I’m finally away from him. I’m just going to keep doing my thing and hope that at some point, he wants to marry one of the women he fucks.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair.” After a pause, she says, “Can you take me home? My roommate’s son will be waking me up at seven this morning.”
I put the car in drive and pull out from my parking place. I’m not sure how to feel about what Mia’s told me tonight. I’m so fucking pissed at Adam I’m not sure how I’ll keep from beating his ass when I see him next. And I’m frustrated for Mia.
But I’m no longer turned on. Mia may be in a bad marriage, but it’s still a marriage. I’d never put the moves on a married woman. And I can tell that’s the last thing on her mind right now, anyway.
“Anytime you need a friend, call me,” I tell her as I take the nearly deserted route she’s navigating to her place. “You can put my number in your phone if you want.”
“That’s nice, but—”
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