Touchdown - Leslie North Page 0,51

into the brightly lit locker room, carpeted with jade and lined with wooden alcoves for each individual player. Softly padded benches sat in the center of the room; in the back, a tiled hallway led to what Jill assumed could only be the showers. It was equal parts luxurious and functional.

And there in the back corner stood Maxwell. Hair freshly washed, still damp and dark, his broad shoulders straining at the gray T-shirt he’d paired with black workout shorts. His leg was propped up on a stepstool as he smiled down at a visitor who had already swooped in and snagged his attention. A young lady with chestnut brown hair and a glinting grin. Her hand touching his elbow like this wasn’t the first time she’d seen him, and definitely wouldn’t be the last.

Jill’s stomach plummeted to her feet, and she stopped walking, unable to continue or run away or do anything other than stare.

The brunette’s lilting laugh reached her. Jill wanted to puke.

You were right. It’s happening again.

Maxwell’s gaze dragged her way, lighting on her a moment later. His eyes went wide, brows shooting to the sky. She’d never seen him so surprised. So caught.

“Jill!” He waved for her to come over, and she stiffly joined him, unsure of basically everything around her. There were so many questions clamoring for air inside her. She tried to wave or speak or do anything, but nothing happened.

“I’ll let you two be,” the brunette said, offering Jill a bright smile as she floated away.

“Thanks, Trin,” Maxwell called out after her, sending another round of betrayal streaking through her veins, lurid and hot.

That was Trinity. She’d been texting him since at least Monday. They were familiar with each other. This had been going on under her nose—yet a-fucking-gain.

“What are you doing here, Jill?” Maxwell asked, his shocked smile still lingering on his face. “I thought you’d be at home with the kids.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she forced out past dry lips. “They’re with Marie right now; Kelsey will be stopping over soon.” She couldn’t believe she’d found her voice to say this much. “So, who was that? She seemed…really friendly.”

“Trinity. She’s my new publicist.” Maxwell paused, eyeing her closely. “Are you jealous?”

Jill crossed her arms, thankful for the general commotion in the locker room, which afforded them a small modicum of privacy. At least if she spoke low enough, their business wouldn’t be aired for all to absorb. “Just be honest with me. Is something going on with her? Is there anything I need to know about?”

Maxwell blinked slowly a few times, surprise moving across his face. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“This is what the fight on Monday night was about, wasn’t it?” He laughed, like it all made sense now. “You don’t trust me.”

She swallowed back a knot in her throat. Shit. She’d imagined this as a heartfelt outpouring but hadn’t exactly imagined it would be a heated outpouring that might turn explosive. Nor had she imagined the where of it, either. As she surveyed their surroundings, this was the last place they needed to be shouting and flinging accusations.

Maxwell took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger and guided her face back to his. He leaned in close. “Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever given you any reason to believe that I’d hurt you?”

Emotion welled up in her chest. Shit shit shit. “You still haven’t answered my question. Is something going on?”

“No.” Maxwell dug something out of his pocket and produced a business card, displaying it between his index and middle fingers. “Here’s her card. James recommended her.”

Jill’s head felt like it might explode. They needed privacy, and now. “Can we go somewhere else? I have a lot I want to say—”

“Yeah, I have a few things I’d like to say too,” Maxwell spat. Her heart sank.

“Can we go outside? I don’t want everyone…” She gestured helplessly around them. “Where can we go? Our cars? I don’t know.”

“Sure. Let’s head to the cars.” Maxwell frowned as he gathered up his things, stuffing them into his duffel bag. When he slung it over his shoulder, he walked past her, and she followed in his angry wake. He was seething, she could tell, which only made her more disoriented. More confused. She tried to organize her thoughts, rehearse her words. He led them down a hallway that ended in a secret entrance to the VIP parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

She pointed. “Over there.” They