Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 33 TRISTAN

I called her a little before noon, just before the lunch buffet. When it’s six and I still haven’t heard from her, I start to get worried.

If she turned off her phone to fly to Vegas, she’d be here by now.

I’ve tried texting her a handful of times, but she’s not responding. In fact, the messages aren’t even showing as delivered.

The first band takes the stage, some local group I’ve never heard of, and they’re decent but I can’t get into the sounds. Instead, I’m checking my phone every four seconds.

Another band plays, and we drink, and another band.

I glance at the clock. It’s almost ten here, which means it’s almost midnight in Iowa. Too late to call her mom to check on her.

But maybe not too late to call my parents.

They go to bed early, but I’d classify this as an emergency. I don’t know who else to call, anyway, and so I settle on my mother. I head inside the hotel and pace the small lobby near the exit toward the pool.

My mom picks up on the first ring. “Tristan, is everything okay?” She sounds panicked, but of course she would be. I don’t usually call her at midnight.

“Sorry to bother you,” I say, not answering her question about whether everything’s okay because I don’t know if everything’s okay. “Have you seen Tessa today? She isn’t answering her phone and I’m worried.”

She clears her throat sleepily, and I hear her bed squeak as she likely gets out of it. “I haven’t seen her, honey. Hang on, I’m checking to see if her car is in the driveway.”

I wait as nerves rattle my chest.

“It’s not there. Have you tried her mom?” she asks.

“No. I didn’t want to wake her.”

“I’m sure if something was wrong, Janet would’ve reached out to you,” she says, trying her best to calm my nerves.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I lean against the wall as the edges of a headache start to creep in.

“Get some rest, honey. I’m sure she’ll call you first thing in the morning,” she says.

“Thanks for checking, Mom. Goodnight,” I murmur.

“Night, honey. Love you.”

She hangs up, and I just head up to my room. I know Ben has big ticket names on the marquee for tonight, but I feel less like partying out there and more like either heading to Coax. Not for the third floor, obviously. Just to hang out, play pool, and get away from the spotlight for a while.

Visiting Coax might feel like I’m betraying Tessa, though. I’m not going for the sex floor, but that’s hardly a defense since it still exists there.

I haven’t mentioned the club to her, mostly because I’m not sure it merits mentioning and because I signed that NDA. I haven’t purposely kept it from her, either.

Still, it’s calling to me.

I push away the temptation to go, and I go upstairs instead.

I raid the minibar and drink myself stupid. That’s when the real bad decisions begin.

I head back downstairs and find Travis.

“Coax?” I suggest low in his ear over the loud music from the band on stage. They’re good, and I move to the beat a little as I listen.

His brows furrow as he looks at me. “ Coax ?” he repeats in a low voice. “You’re engaged, and your girl who isn’t here is having a baby, and you want to go to Coax right now?”

“Just to play pool and have a drink.” I shrug. “She’s not answering my calls, and her last text was all accusatory. Might as well do something worthy of those accusations, right?”

“You’re drunk,” he says flatly. “They won’t let you in drunk.”

Dammit. He’s right.

“Fuck,” I mutter. It’s just as well, though my alcohol-muddled brain doesn’t want to admit it.

Some girl I’ve never seen before is dancing next to me in only a bikini, and she bumps into me on accident. She turns toward me to apologize, and she has that same glazed look in her eyes that I do.

“Oh my God, it’s Tristan Higgins!” she squeals. She throws her arms around my neck. “Congratulations on the divorce. Care to celebrate in private?”

I chuckle. “Thanks for the offer.” I allow my eyes to flick down to her chest. “You’re hot as fuck, but I’m not single.”

She doesn’t seem to care, and she doesn’t bother untangling herself. “Someone made quick work of that. Wish it was me.”

I squeeze her a little in a hug. “She’s the love of my life. The woman I always should’ve been with.”

“Lucky her,” she says.

I’m the lucky one. I should say it, should proclaim it to everyone, but suddenly I’m exhausted. I shouldn’t have come back down here. It was a bad choice, and except for the horrible decision that was Savannah, I’m generally not known for making bad decisions…unless I’m as far gone as I am right now.

The last time I was quite this wasted, the whole Tiffany Gable thing happened. I thought she was Tessa. I don’t even remember having sex with her. I don’t know how my dick could have possibly worked that night, and I’m certain I was moaning Tessa’s name the entire time.

Tiffany took advantage of my situation, and then I almost had to deal with the consequences that would have tied me to her for life when we had a pregnancy scare.

I push the thought away. Thinking about that time in my life only makes me feel sick. I bid the girl still hugging me goodnight, and then I head upstairs.

Except I’m stopped in my tracks on the way up.

“Tristan?” a familiar voice calls out to me.

I turn to look at the woman, and she rushes into my arms for a hug.

It takes me a second to recognize her. I’ve seen every square inch of her naked flesh, yet seeing her outside of Coax is…confusing.

“Brandi,” I murmur into her hair. “What are you doing here?”

“When I saw this party was for you, I had to come see you. Congratulations on the divorce. I didn’t even know you were married.” She lifts a shoulder and tilts her head. “It explains a lot.”

I can’t help the grunt of a chuckle. It explains nothing, actually, but I don’t have a chance to tell her that because she fires off her next question.

“How come you haven’t been around lately?”

I shrug. “Been busy.”

“And this girl I keep seeing you with online? Is she the wife?”

I shake my head. “No. She’s the future wife, not the ex -wife.”

Her brows arch. “You’re already engaged?”

I nod.

“Wow. I didn’t even get a chance to slip in there.”

I don’t bother telling her it wouldn’t have mattered. It’s inaccurate to say she had her shot because she didn’t. Not really. I never found myself interested in her, and maybe it’s because I’m not the type of guy who goes to a place like that to pick up women.

The thought of bringing Tessa up to the third floor someday occurs to me. Sliding my hand up her thigh, making her squirm as we watch the things in front of us we’re not supposed to see.

I shake the thought out of my head. I still can’t imagine even telling her that I went there. The fact that I never had sex in it wouldn’t matter.

It’s a dark thought to have when I’m drunk, but it’s not even that she wouldn’t understand. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t, though I’d lean toward the latter.

It has more to do with the thought that I’m ashamed.

Every time I stepped onto the third floor, I felt weird about being there. It always felt wrong.

And now, seeing Brandi out of context, those feelings of shame rush back over me.

It’s in the past.

My membership may be good for another six or seven months, but I don’t know if I see myself going back there again, and certainly not to the third floor.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” I say awkwardly, and then I give her a quick hug and beeline the hell out of there.

When I get back to my room, I promptly pass out.

Drinking myself stupid wasn’t my best choice.

I wake up with a worse headache than I had when I went to bed, and no amount of greasy eggs and bacon is going to help.

I check my phone, and I still haven’t heard from her. I try calling. No answer.

I finally decide to call her mom.

It’s Saturday morning, though, so of course she doesn’t answer. She’s probably busy at the church ahead of tomorrow’s services.

I try texting Tessa one more time before I head down toward the pool.

Very few people are around just yet, but Ben Olson is down there with his wife Kaylee, and he looks awfully chipper for someone who drank beer the entire day yesterday.

“It’s our guest of honor!” he yells when he sees me.

“Can you turn the volume down?” I whine, and he laughs as he musses up my hair.

“Hangover?” he correctly guesses, and I wince and nod. “Jack Dalton taught me his special hangover cure. I can’t tell you what’s in it, and it tastes like the back of a donkey’s balls, but it works.”

“How do you know what the back of donkey balls taste like?” I ask.

He laughs. “Go get a plate full of the breakfast buffet, and I’ll whip up the concoction for you. Meet me in Cabana Two.”

I nod and head over toward the buffet. Today’s not the day I start eating right to get back into season shape. I’ve got plenty of time for that, and minicamp can be the start of it. I fill my plate with scrambled eggs, opting for the super runny ones even though they’re gross, sausage, bacon, and pancakes. I grab another plate and fill it with fruit to try to restore some vitamins and hydration, and then I head over to the cabana.

Ben’s in there stirring a pitcher. “I made a whole pitcher because I’m guessing you won’t be alone,” he declares proudly, and I can’t help a laugh. He pours me a pint glass full of what looks like a pretty disgusting concoction, and I wrinkle my nose as he hands it over.

I take a sip, and yep…it’s vile. Then I suck it up and chug the whole glass.

My mouth burns a little. “Why is my mouth burning? What the fuck did you just poison me with?”

He laughs. “That would be the dash of cayenne pepper. I might have put in more than a dash. Then there’s lemon, honey, sprite, and coconut water mixed with a mystery ingredient,” he says. He holds up his hands. “That’s as much as I can reveal.”

“Well, you were right. That’s exactly how I’d imagine the back of donkey balls to taste.”

“You’re welcome,” Ben says gallantly.

“I’m glad you’re down here. I, uh…I think I need to head back home. I can’t get in touch with my fiancée. I think something might be wrong.”

His brows furrow and he nods. “Of course. Go. I understand completely.”

“I don’t want to miss the party,” I say.

He laughs and shakes his head. “I sprung it on you last-minute because they had an opening. Some things in life are more important than a party, and nobody learned that faster than me.” He glances over at his wife. “It doesn’t mean the party’s over, man. It just means you’ve got a partner to party with.”

I give him a sad smile. “I need to go find my partner.”

“Go. Good luck. Let me know how it all turns out.”

I nod and run up to my room. A flight leaves in about an hour, so I book it and race to the airport, boarding just in time.

The flight home drags. I’m nervous and I’m exhausted but at least I’m not hungover thanks to Ben’s miracle donkey ball concoction.

I spent my time staring out the window willing everything to be okay, but the more I will it, the more sure I become that something is very, very wrong.

Not hearing from her for the last twenty-four hours tells me just how much her disappearance the first time still affects me.

It left a scar that still burns even after all this time.

It left me with a heinous fear of abandonment, and maybe I’m just being dramatic, or maybe it’s a real psychological issue that will never heal. Maybe I’ll always be scared she’ll just disappear again, leaving me with nothing like she did the first time.

I don’t know if I can come back from that for a second time. Not when everything felt so perfect. So right. Not when our future together was just within my grasp.

We finally land in Chicago, but then it’s nearly another three hours toward Fallon Ridge. With the time difference from Vegas, it’s after six o’clock by the time I get into town.

My chest tightens when I see the big house on the corner. Our house .

We should be moving in this week. Most of our furniture is scheduled to be delivered tomorrow.

My heart thunders in my chest as I turn down Hickory Tree Lane, and as I loop around onto Oak Tree Lane, I can see it from here.

Her car is still missing from her mother’s driveway.

I park in front of my parents’ house, and I jump out of my truck, rushing to the Taylors’ front door. I ring the bell, and Tessa’s mom glances out the window a moment later. When she sees me, her brows furrow.

“Hi, honey,” she greets me as she opens the door.

“Hi, Mrs. Taylor,” I whisper.

“It’s Mil now, remember?”

I can’t seem to muster a laugh of any sort, and she gazes at me with concern.

“What are you doing back? What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Where is she?” My voice suddenly won’t work, and my words come out in a strangled whisper.

“She took off for Chicago,” she says, and her words bring me back seven years ago when her dad said nearly the exact same thing to me.

Only she never returned.

His words were followed by, “She told me to break it off with you before she left.”

My knees nearly give out as I wait for her mom to say the same thing to me.

Devastation rolls through me as that same feeling of abandonment stabs into my stomach. Her last text to me runs through my mind again. She was upset, mad at me, sure I was cheating on her. But of course her mind would go there after what happened with Cam and her father. She has to know I’m not like the others.

I have to tell her.

But she won’t answer me.

I grip onto the wooden doorframe as I try to hold myself up. She’s gone again—and to the same place, no less.

History can’t be repeating itself. Not after everything we’ve been through.

Can it?

TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 4, NO MISTAKE