Page 39

CHAPTER

THIRTY-EIGHT

FORD

I’m stepping out of the showers in our dressing room after our game. We won tonight, and Thomas scored two of the five goals we made. I’m relieved this line mix-up thing is actually working.

Securing a fresh white towel around my waist, I slide on my shower shoes and head back out to my cubby. Our dressing room isn’t just a locker room. It has all the bells and whistles appropriate for professional athletes who make millions of dollars.

Built-in cubbies—made from mahogany and polished to perfection—line the large rectangular space. A giant rug covers the center of the floor, featuring an eagle, of course. And the light that covers almost the entire ceiling is a huge Eagles logo. It’s one of the cooler dressing rooms I’ve seen in the NHL. And I appreciate how clean the staff keeps it for us. I should bring by some of the bread Farrah has made as a gift to the staff. Lord knows we have enough baked goods at home.

When I arrive at my cubby, I see the guys huddled together. Bruce is still in his pads and he’s whispering to West and Colby. Mitch is ignoring them, already showered, dressed, and making his way out of the dressing room and home to his fiancée.

Their heads pop up at the sound of my shower slides thwacking against my heels. Bruce stops talking instantly.

“What’s going on?” I ask, not used to being the one left out of conversations. I’m always the one the guys come to to spill their secrets and ask for advice. I’m just now realizing how much I like being in the know. A prickle of annoyance moves down my spine that they’re discussing something good without me.

Do I like drama? Hmm. Something to dissect later.

West and Colby smirk as their heads swivel in my direction.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” My shoulders tense. I really don’t like this.

Colby shrugs. “I find it interesting that you never introduced me to your sisters.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Colby has calmed down his roguish ways in the past few years and has become a whole new man since meeting his fiancée, but before, there wasn’t a chance in hell I would’ve let him anywhere near my sisters.

“I wasn’t purposefully keeping you all from meeting them, they just don’t come down here much. One is married and the other just got engaged.”

Bruce looks down at his pads, and West wallops him in the back of the head. “Dude. You can’t be talking about married women.”

Bruce throws up his hands. “She wasn’t wearing a ring!”

I arch a brow because he’s right—I noticed that as well. Farrah has always worn her ring, and until yesterday morning, I can’t remember ever seeing her without it since her wedding. Add that to the fact that I haven’t seen—or barely heard mention her husband—in almost a year? Very interesting .

“She was baking,” I answer, thinking that’s a pretty good excuse. What with the flour and dough and all that.

“I wasn’t trying to be a creep; I was just telling the guys I met your sister. And no disrespect, but she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I nod. Men are allowed to notice a woman being physically attractive. But is it weird that he’s talking about my sister in that regard? Yes.

“Okay. Fair.” I finish drying myself off and reach for my duffel bag. “But I think we can all agree that no matter how attractive, sisters are off-limits. Yeah?”

Bruce nods frantically, like he thinks I’m about to pummel his ass. Which is laughable because I’m not one of the fighters on the team. Now, if Mitch had a sister, this conversation would be going much differently.

West rolls his lips. “I mean, I married my best friends’ sister.”

Grabbing my clean clothes out of my bag, I slide on my underthings before unzipping the suit bag hanging in my cubby. “But Farrah is already married.” I think she is . “And heading back to Ohio tomorrow. So, it’s a moot point.”

Colby nods at my point. “True. Brucey, you can’t be admiring married women.”

Bruce sighs heavily, sitting on the bench in front of the cubby labelled with his name and un-velcroing his leg pads. “Point taken.” He glances up from his pads to me. “You don’t have any single sisters, do you?”

“No.” I roll my eyes.

“Bummer.”

The following morning, I’m exhausted. Game nights go late, and I had to be up at eight because Mom and Farrah head out today. Mom wants to get an early start; I think she and Dad are really missing each other.

When I come down the stairs, Amber, Farrah, and Mom are already seated at the table. Nella must still be asleep. The three women are all eating—you guessed it—fresh homemade bread with butter and honey slathered on top. But even the bread doesn’t look as scrumptious as Amber in the morning light. Her red hair is down and wavy, and the pink on the tips has faded over time. She’s dressed already, wearing a white tee under pink slouchy overalls. The overalls look soft, though, like pajama fabric. My mouth waters at the sight of her. All I can think about is the kisses we shared a few nights ago. But with practice and a game the following day, I’ve barely seen her. She texted yesterday that her doctor cleared her for normal activities, and she got to drive her truck. But by the time I got home from the game last night, she was fast asleep, and my dream of more kisses was pushed back.

I shoot her a secret smile, one that promises more kisses later, as soon as Mom and Farrah have left and it’s just our little family left here. Our little family . Wow, I love the sound of that. And Nella is clueless, which means I can kiss my wife anytime I want.

Amber raises an eyebrow at the look I’m giving her, and she smirks. Her green eyes shift to my sister, who’s fidgeting with her bread, breaking it into small pieces instead of eating it.

She looks nervous. Really nervous. And Amber looks like she knows why.

Why is everyone in my life keeping secrets from me lately?

Mom swallows a bite of bread then notices my presence. “ Ford! Good morning. Have a seat, because your sister wants to talk to us, and my curiosity is killing me.”

As I sit in the open seat beside my wife, the smell of her hair hits me like a slap in the face. Except her scent is sweet and perfect, so more like a caress to cheek. I want to burrow my face in her hair and pull the smell of her skin into my marrow. Instead, I place my hand on her thigh. She looks over at me and winks. I want to whimper, and make Mom and Farrah leave ASAP.

Farrah clears her throat, and our attention snaps to her face. Her hands are laced together on the table, and she’s not wearing her wedding ring. Again. Her eyes stay on her hands, not looking at any of us.

“So, there’s no easy way to say this. But Connor and I have been separated for a while.”

My mom gasps. “What?”

Farrah ignores her and continues, “It’s a long story, one that I can go into more on our drive home, but basically, it will be difficult for me to have children. He was grieving, I think, but instead of grieving with me…he wanted space. And the separation made it obvious to him that he wants a divorce. I need to go home and pack my stuff so we can sell the house, but I’d like to come back here in a few weeks, once everything in Ohio is squared away.”

She finally looks up, directly at me. Familiar blue eyes—the same color as mom’s—don’t leave mine, as if she’s expecting a reaction.

“I’d like to stay here, Ford. If it’s okay. I could be Nella’s nanny when Amber goes back to work.”

Stunned, I blink my eyes a few times. The room is silent for what feels like a whole minute. On one hand, I want my wife all to myself. I want to explore more of that kissing, more of her. On the other hand, Amber does want to go back to work. And she should get a call from Luxurious Lather any day now, according to my calculations. And Farrah would be a very trustworthy nanny, of course. But having her in the same house means less privacy for Amber and me.

“What about your job?” I ask, finally able to speak. Farrah makes good money as the event coordinator for a marketing firm.

“Actually,” she says, her eyes snaking to our mother, “I quit right before I came here.”

Mom gasps again. “Oh, Farrah. Why didn’t you tell us sooner? I’m so sorry.”

“I wanted to, but I genuinely thought Connor and I would work things out and no one would be the wiser. But we’ve been separated for ten months, and he wants out of the marriage. And honestly, I’m not thrilled at the idea of being with someone who considers me damaged.”

Mom stands from her chair and moves behind her daughter, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “You’re not damaged. And that man is a fool for letting you go.”

A few tears fall from Farrah’s eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

I glance at Amber to find her already looking at me. She’s studies my face intently then raises her eyebrows in silent question.

Quirking a brow, I silently ask, Is it okay with you?

She tips her chin—it’s barely perceptible, but I know it’s a resounding yes .

“You can stay here,” I announce. At least I’ll have two weeks alone with Amber.

Farrah jumps out of her chair, almost knocking mom over in the process, then rushes over and hugs me. It’s awkward since I’m sitting and she’s standing.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Farrah hugs Amber next .

“So, I’m only going to have one kiddo left in Ohio?” Mom asks with one hand on her hips. “It’s going to be so strange not to have you close.” Her voice cracks.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I just don’t want to live there anymore. I’d run into him in the grocery store or see him on dates with other women. I want a whole new start, you know?”

Mom nods. “I get it, I do.” She sits back down in her chair, and Farrah does too. “You’ll tell me more about this during the drive?”

Farrah sighs, her eyes filling with tears again. “I promise. Connor obviously didn’t love me enough to be patient. He’ll probably make a dating profile that says he’s looking for someone with optimum ovarian health.” She laughs through her nose, but there’s no humor in it, and we all stare at her with concerned expressions.

Amber moves to put an arm around Farrah. “We’ll be here waiting for you.”

When I move in to hug my mother goodbye, I notice her jaw works like she’s grinding her teeth. I’m positive she’s holding back scathing words about the man we once welcomed into the Remington family, despite the calm facade she’s putting on for my sister. Connor was a man they trusted to take care of their daughter. Forever. In sickness and in health. And he failed miserably.

I feel angry too, but I don’t have time to be getting into fights.

Hell, I can’t even find a moment to kiss my own damn wife.