All Wound Up

Maybe because she just didn’t matter to him as much as she’d thought. Maybe all these . . . feelings . . . had been one-sided. So his decision had been easier than she’d thought.

Tears pricked her eyes, one escaping to slide down her cheek.

“Oh, hell no.” She swiped the tear away. She was going to get angry, not pitiful and sad. She would not feel sorry for herself. And she absolutely would not cry.

She gripped the steering wheel, took several cleansing breaths, determined to be strong about this.

Men were pricks and she was a survivor of idiot men. She pressed calmly on the gas pedal and headed for home.

Or at least she thought she was going home. For some reason her car ended up in the parking lot of Tucker’s condo. It was late enough that he should be back home from the game. And lights were on.

There was no way she was going to let this rest, no way she was going to continue to let him avoid her. Not until she said what she needed to say to him.

She got out of the car and went to his door, her heart pounding with a combination of hurt, anger and just a little bit of trepidation.

She didn’t know what kind of response she’d get from him.

Maybe her dad’s ultimatum had been a relief. Maybe he’d wanted out, and that was why he’d been so easily avoiding her.

She shook her head and rang the bell. Tucker answered the door, his expression grim as he saw her.

“Aubry.”

“I need to talk to you.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, uh . . .”

She didn’t let him finish, just pushed past him and walked into his living room.

He shut the door and turned to face her. “Aubry, look—”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “My father told me he threatened to trade you or send you down to the minors unless you dumped me.”

“He did?”

“Yes. It was an awful thing for him to do. Why didn’t you come and talk to me about it right away?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Come on, Aubry. Did you really think I was going to run and cry to you because your daddy was mean to me?”

“So instead you’ve been avoiding me? You think that’s the better solution?”

“I was . . . thinking.”

She let out a derisive laugh. “Oh. You were thinking. About what? How best to break up with me? You’re an asshole, Tucker. I thought you were someone completely different—a man with honor and integrity, and someone who would never lie to me. I was so wrong about you—about us and what I thought we had together.”

“Aubry, I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Of course you didn’t, because you’re a coward. I’m so disappointed in you, Tucker. You could have at least had the balls to be honest with me. Or at least faced me and told me you’d chosen your career over me. That, at least, I’d have understood. Instead, you ran and hid from me. I don’t want a man who’d do that, so guess what, Tucker? You’re off the hook. We’re done.”

She headed for the door but Tucker was right there.

“Don’t do this. Let’s talk.”

She laughed. “Oh, so now you want to talk? Too late.” She stared at the door, then at him, demanding without words that he get the hell out of her way—out of her life.

He moved and she opened the door and stalked out, barely breathing as she made her way to her car. She shut the door and took several deep breaths.

She’d done what she needed to do. It was over now. She should feel better, clearer headed.

She didn’t. Seeing him again just made her miss him even more. What they’d had together had been amazing. Why had he thrown it all away?

She sighed, gripped the steering wheel and forced herself to take several more calming breaths.

It was just another failed relationship. She’d get over it just like she’d gotten over the others.

Except this wasn’t like the others. She’d never loved anyone before.

Her mind swept back to the look of utter misery she’d seen on Tucker’s face while she’d been railing at him.

She shook her head. No. It wasn’t possible that Tucker was hurting. The man couldn’t possibly have a heart.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have broken hers.

THERE WAS NOTHING LIKE THE FEELING OF SETTING your boots on the front porch of your home. For Tucker, home would always be the family ranch in Texas where his parents lived. He stood outside in the early-morning hours watching the golden sunrise over the tops of the trees, breathing in the Texas air.

It was the first time he’d felt good in weeks.

He might not be a football player like the rest of his brothers, or like his father, but the Cassidy athletic dynasty was what made him into the athlete he’d become. And he owed all of that to his father, Easton. The man was a sports legend, had played football in college and spent his entire career in Green Bay. He’d been one hell of a quarterback, and he was one hell of a dad.

It was always good to come home and feel the energy his dad still emanated.

Tucker needed some of that feel-good fire right now. Because right now he felt broken.

Coward.

That word hovered incessantly in the back of his head like it had been branded there for all eternity. And he goddamn didn’t like that feeling.

He heard the front door open and the sound of boots approaching. He knew without looking those were the sounds of his father’s footsteps.