Page 60 of The Player's Club

I held up my hands. “I’m leaving,” I said as I wiped blood from my nose.

“You better fucking be. Get out of here, Mackenzie, before I do shoot you.”

Dave stalked inside the hospital. To my chagrin, a handful of people had caught the exchange, one of whom was holding her phone and filming it.

I briefly considered asking the woman who’d filmed not to post it online, but that’d probably make things worse. And maybe she hadn’t recognized me. It was dark out, and I’d made sure to wear a hat and inconspicuous clothes.

Despite the late hour, the last thing I wanted was to try to find a hotel room somewhere. I could always stay with my parents, but that thought was as bad as getting punched by Dave. Even with that altercation, I had no regrets about my decision to come see her.

I ended up going to a local bar that I’d often tried to get into using a fake ID back in the day. It was usually full of farmers and truckers—guys who didn’t give a shit if a famous hockey star came around.

The interior was dark and dingy, which suited me just fine. It smelled like old beer and sweat. A TV was on in the corner with the volume on low. A few guys were scattered about, nursing their beers and not making conversation.

I ordered a beer for myself. The bartender gave me a strange look as he went to the tap and poured a Coors Light. I thought maybe he recognized me. Eventually, he delivered my beer with a chin lift. “Your nose is bleeding.”

I winced. I grabbed a few napkins, wincing at how bruised my nose already felt. Dave had fucking decked me hard. Could I blame him? Not in the least.

I took my beer and napkins to a booth in the corner. On second thought, had I made a mistake going to see Caroline? The thought of Dave taking out his anger on his dying wife made me feel sick.

When I’d first met Caroline, I’d just been a kid. As the head pastor’s wife, she’d seemed like a queen to me. She’d always dressed in designer clothes and worn a huge diamond on her hand that everybody had whispered had cost a fortune.And she was beautiful.

When she’d first noticed me at a dinner party my parents had hosted, I’d been an awkward, pimply-faced teen. I’d been tongue-tied, but she’d managed to make me feel like I was the only person in the world who mattered. When I’d told her that I wanted to play hockey instead of going into the church, she’d truly listened to me. Unlike my own parents, who’d told me I was wasting my time chasing an impossible dream.

The first time she’d kissed me, it had been like I’d been waiting for that moment my entire life. She’d been my sun, moon, and stars.

I grimaced, thinking about what a lovesick puppy she’d turned me into. It hadn’t taken much longer to make me do anything she’d wanted.

And I’d loved her for it. I still did, in a strange, twisted way. Even when I’d been terrified of everyone finding out about our affair, I’d loved her. When she’d cried in my arms about how Dave ignored her, didn’t love her anymore, wasn’t a real husband to her . . . I’d wanted to fight her husband in her honor. Now, in hindsight, I could see how wrong it all was. How she might’ve been exaggerating things to justify her actions. Because after all these years, she was still married to him. That had to count for something. The one thing I was certain of was that I’d never know the exact truth about their marriage.

Back then, though? If Caroline had asked me to kill Dave on her behalf, I might’ve done it. That thought alone made me shudder. The fact that I hadn’t decked him back tonight proved that, on some level, I felt bad for him, both for what he was going through now and for my actions in the past.

A few hours later, I debated getting another beer when the TV in the corner caught my attention. To my disgust, the very video of Dave punching me was playing. Below that was the headline, Playboy hockey star up to his old tricks again?

Fuck. That was the risk of coming here. But I still didn’t regret it, even though all my dirty laundry was now splayed out for all the world to see.

I waited for any of the guys in the bar to realize I was sitting in a booth. When they didn’t, I let out a breath.

But then my phone sounded, and I looked down to read a text from Elodie that made my blood run cold.

I just got a CNN alert on my phone about you getting into a fight. Are you okay?

ELODIE

I tried not to let panic sink in when Mac wouldn’t take any of my calls. I kept seeing that stupid video of him getting punched in the face. But what the video didn’t show was what the hell happened in the end. Had it ended with that one punch? Or did more happen, leaving Mac seriously injured or worse?

What if he’d gotten a concussion? What if he was lying in a ditch somewhere? I called him for what felt like the thousandth time, but there was no answer.

I texted him a third time as well. My only bit of relief was that he had his read receipts on. The last text was soon marked as read.

But that was it. No return calls, no replies to texts. I only prayed that it was Mac himself who’d read those texts and not someone else. The thought of the latter made me shudder. What if he was dead? Panic and paranoia began to consume me. Because if he’d read those messages, he’d decided not to text me. That was troubling.

I knew Mac had gone to visit Caroline. Why else would he be in Idaho? I knew, yet I didn’t feel any better. I felt like I was going to be sick.

It was nearing two in the morning now, and I couldn’t sleep. All I could see was that man punching Mac, and Mac nearly falling to the ground.

I’d also been surprised that Mac hadn’t punched the guy back. Though when TMZ had reported the name of Mac’s assailant was none other than Caroline’s husband, everything made a little more sense, even if it didn’t take away the worry about what became of Mac after the punch.

I sat down on my couch, sighing heavily. The Caroline thing bugged me. Did Mac realize how strange it was that a pastor’s wife would make him her BDSM pet?Did he not realize the level of manipulation that took on her part?