Power Play (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 2)

Oh, how the tides turn.

As I watch Phil struggle with one of her grandmother’s old chairs, I scrunch up my face. Phil is older than me, in his late thirties, and has gray hair. He’s on the heavier side, but he’s not bad-looking. He’s actually handsome, not as good-looking as me, but not awful, obviously. He’s also loaded. I tell myself it’s not the money, because hello, I have money and so does she. Because of that, I’m unsure what makes him better than me. The only thing I can come up with is he is around to worship her constantly and openly. I don’t show my feelings very well, but I did worship her, and I thought I made her feel special, but obviously not.

When Phil reaches out, cupping the back of her neck, I want to break his arm.

“That’s all the boxes, princess?”

Princess. What in the ever-loving hell?

Julia nods. “Yeah. I think that’s everything.” She then looks at me. “If you help us with these last few boxes, we’ll be out of here sooner.”

I don’t move, but Wes, the good dude he is, comes off the wall where he’s been leaning. “Yeah. Let me do that before Boon comes unglued.”

Well, that was unnecessary. “Not coming unglued at all, but sure as hell not helping.”

She narrows her eyes as Wes and Phil handle everything. She grabs a box but then puts it back down, placing her hands on her hips. “You’re being very childish about this.”

I make a face, my eyes narrowing. “How so?”

“Not helping, being rude to Phil—”

“He was sleeping with you six months before we broke up. He knew about our relationship, knew I loved you, and knew our plans. So, yeah, I’m not going to be nice to him.”

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t his fault. We can’t control what we feel.”

Now I move from my spot on the wall, leaning in toward her, and she takes a step back. I know I’m a big dude, and it might seem like I’m hanging on by a thread, but I’m not violent. I would never hurt her and she knows that, yet she acts the victim. Really, I’m the victim. “Maybe not, but you can control your actions. You should have broken up with me when you first started feeling something for him. It meant you didn’t love me anymore, and you didn’t need to draw this out for as long as you did.”

She rolls her eyes. “Like I could have. You were too busy making everything seem great.”

“Because I thought it was. Hell, you need an Oscar for your performance.” I start to slow clap like the asshole I am, and she glares. “Fuck, Jul, I never knew. Way to go.”

“You didn’t know because you didn’t care. You chose the sport over me.”

I drop my hands and then throw my head back, groaning loudly. “That’s a bunch of fucking bullshit, Jul, and you know it.” I meet her gaze once more, glaring down at her. “I loved you with my whole damn body. You gave me a pile of crap, saying that I didn’t care for you, when I did. And then you asked me what I wanted, you or my career. How in the hell am I supposed to provide for you when I’m not playing? I had to work to provide. To give you this life you’re so accustomed to. This is what I am—a hockey player. You knew that going in.”

“I wanted you home. With me.”

“You knew who you were marrying,” I say simply. “Who you’d been with. I haven’t changed. But you…you have. You manipulated me into feeling like shit for wanting my career, when in all reality, you were already cheating on me. I mean, talk about some shitty shit. And I never saw it coming.”

She holds up her hands. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it? Were you or were you not cheating on me for six months?”

She shakes her head, and I see no guilt. It’s almost as if she’s good with it and doesn’t care that she hurt me. What a bitch. “I wanted more.”

“Well, I guess you got it, but I wish you had broken it off with me when things started with Phil. Not lead me on and fuck him on the side. But I guess you didn’t want your parents to be embarrassed by losing all those deposits for the wedding that would never happen.”

She scoffs. “Boon, that didn’t matter. They were already embarrassed I was marrying a piece of shit.”

I’m taken aback, but I refuse to let her see it. “Did I become a piece of shit before or after you started cheating on me?” I gesture between us. “Also, how am I a piece of shit when I didn’t cheat? I was completely and utterly committed.”