Page 34

THIRTY-TWO

SWEETHEART

March arrives with a heatwave that promises a hellish summer, and I can feel sweat rolling down my back just from walking out of the terminal to the plane that will take us to the first stop of our two-week roadie.

It’s the last long one of the season, and maybe my last one ever. Probably my last one ever.

As I settle in my window seat next to Nik, I can’t help but turn my thoughts inwards.

Nik’s words from last week— I only need hockey and you —have been plaguing me whenever I let my guard down and my brain decides it’s time to attack with what-ifs.

I’m pretty sure Nik hasn’t noticed. It wasn’t hard, considering we did little but fuck for the whole time we had off. Seriously, it became kind of addicting, or more than it already was. It’s like we just discovered how our dicks are supposed to work at thirty-three .

Anyway, now we’re back to work, going full speed to win as many games as possible to close out the regular season. And that’s all I should focus on.

Not what’s going to happen at the end of the season, definitely not where I’m going to live or if Nik will have any say in what I do.

I can’t decide anything.

Mostly because I’m more unsure about everything than I’ve ever been in my life.

Last year I knew I was retiring when the season began for fuck’s sake.

My mom was right when she said she suspected I’d been planning on retiring last year for a very long time.

But I could never have predicted Gab, and I could definitely never have predicted Nik.

I put my headphones on and settle in for the thirty-minute flight—a waste if there ever was one but it does save us a lot of time, so whatever.

We’re only flying to LA today, then San Francisco, Oregon, Seattle, Vancouver, then we’re crossing over to Minnesota, and the last stop is Chicago.

Laney did give me permission to stay one day with my family, but he told me Nik had to stay with me—oh the hardship. Thinking he was screwing something in my plans, he winced as he said it, but I assured him it was fine.

It was, after all, the plan all along.

I managed to hide my happiness at his words, though, and thanked him for the day then went about my day .

I decided I’m telling my family while we’re there.

I’m pretty sure it’s going to go great, and I can’t wait for Nik to experience my family in its entirety. He’s gonna fit right in with my aunts, my mom, and my grandfather.

I love them dearly. In fact, my aunt Allegra is almost like another mother to me, but they are the crazy faction of the family.

And it’s fine for me to call them that because my grandmother gave them the damn nickname—we all call them that. Hell, they call themselves that when they get together for their freaky planning sessions.

I bet they had one when I confirmed Nik and I would be there for twenty whole hours.

He’ll fit right in with those weirdos.

The thought makes the doubts disappear for the rest of the flight.

I’m going to watch Nik experience family life for the first time in so long, and he’s going to be smiling the whole damn time.

We’re winning by two at the start of the third period and by now we’re just playing with these poor dudes.

Every time Nik and I get on the ice for our line’s shift, you can almost hear the crowd of LA fans groan with dread.

It’s been like that for a while, I realized after the first period, but I’m only noticing it now .

I spent the whole second intermission trying to remember when the last game was that a team scored while Nik and I were on defense, but I can’t fucking remember—and I have a good memory when it comes to mistakes I’ve made, believe you me.

So I’m hanging back by center ice with a wide fucking smile on my face while our baby forwards get into position, and I know without having to look that Nik is skating circles around one of the LA forwards by the boards.

I have another one on my tail, but I’ve been shaking him off all game so I’m not worried about him catching up, in fact I might just start goading him. I turn and make him skate backward, being aggressive with how fast I’m going, basically playing a game of chicken, but then out of nowhere I’m hit from behind and falling face first.

I hear and feel my stick snap under me, and my hand gets crushed at an awkward angle, but I’m fine. Disoriented but fine. After I take a breath, I turn my body a little and see about a million skates a foot away from my face. Slowly, I manage to raise my gaze and see Nik beating the crap out of an LA player.

Either my vision is shot to shit too or there’s a lot of blood on the dude’s face. I screw my eyes shut and open them again... Yup, that’s blood.

“Nik,” I mumble, but of course he can’t hear me. The crowd is going insane and every other player on the ice is shouting too.

Finally someone—oh, it’s Bear. He pulls Nik back and away from the idiot who must’ve rammed into my back. I get up slowly, scared for a second that my hand is seriously hurt, because the lack of pressure on my wrist makes the pain a lot sharper, but then he’s there.

Nik.

He helps me stand on unsteady legs—which is always inconvenient on the ice—and looks way too worried for my liking.

“M’fine,” I mumble.

“You’re not,” he snaps at me, clearly still pissed and glancing down at the way I’m holding my wrist. Then he’s herding me along to the bench where paramedics are already waiting for me.

“No, I don’t need?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Laney shouts at me, and I wince.

All right then, no need to be so aggressive .

“Santa, get to the fucking sin bin,” he snaps to Nik, and after a long, still-worried glance at me, he turns back to the other side of the ice.

“Heart, go get checked out, now,” Laney tells me, still shouting, and points at my wrist.

I’m not given much of a choice when the two paramedics take my arms and drag me away.

“It barely hurts,” I argue with them.

“You landed on it. You had your stick in that hand and it snapped so it’s better if we just get it checked out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, and go along with them

They tell me ten minutes later that I have a very mild sprain—surprise, surprise—and it’s forty minutes later that Nik comes into the dark exam room, looking like he’s just come from a battle.

“How many more fights did you start?”

“Not nearly enough,” he says gruffly and closes the door behind him. Then he walks over, drags a stool to the side of the stretcher and sits.

Silently, he takes my healthy hand and leans his head on the bed right next to it.

I want to tell him we have to be careful, that people could come in at any second, but I can’t find it in me.

“I’m really okay,” I assure him. “I’ll just be out for two games. One if I can convince Laney. Seattle’s gonna get the Sweetheart treatment,” I try to joke.

“You’re my sweetheart,” he grumbles, not looking up, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Are you okay?” I ask, even though I can plainly see he’s not.

I’m thankful, though, when he doesn’t immediately answer that he’s fine, that he doesn’t lie to me.

“I will be. I just need to sleep.”

“Me too,” I tell him. He looks up and I smile softly. Then a thought pops into my head. “Did they score on our line?”

“What?” he asks, a confused frown all over his face. “No, they didn’t. Jules got his hat trick, though.”

“Of course he did,” I mumble playfully. “He’s such a show-off. ”

“Now you get it,” Nik says, fake lightheartedness all over his words. I love that he tries, though. “They didn’t score at all. Bear was pissed and he didn’t let them do shit even during the power play.”

“Good,” I tell him. “Our record’s intact then.”

“What record?”

“When’s the last time they scored on us?” He just keeps frowning, so I clarify. “On our line. With you and me playing at the same time on the ice. When’s the last time any team scored on us?”

“I don’t know,” he says after thinking about it for a couple of minutes.

“Because we’re fucking invincible,” I say with much more cheer than I thought I could have.

But it’s worth it because that finally gets me the smile I wanted to see since he entered the room.

“You’re gonna have to take care of me aaaaall night ,” I tease him, and his smile only grows.

“My honor, sweetheart. It’s my honor.” Then he kisses the back of my hand like one of those gallant heroes in fairy-tales and stands. “Come on now, let’s make sure you get some rest.”

Nik

I wake up cuddling Charlie’s back in San Francisco.

After Jules had his round of interviews and the press conference, we were finally able to clean up with the rest of the team, then we headed straight to the airport and flew to northern California for our next game.

That game will start in more than twenty-four hours, and for the first time in my career I’m thankful we have one of those weird in-between days during long roadies.

They’ve always seemed like such a waste, but today I get to spend a lot of hours taking care of Charlie and making sure he doesn’t use his right hand at all.

It was also fortunate, I think, that Laney didn’t question me at all when I announced I was going to check on Charlie the second the game ended instead of heading to the locker room.

I’m going to have to spend a couple of hours training today, of course, and I actually should be getting up to get ready for that, but uncurling my arms from around Charlie seems kind of impossible right now.

Not only because I have no idea how I could ever untangle myself without waking him, but because I know that when I do, he’s going to insist on going with me to practice.

I can’t really blame him, since I’d do the same, and I know logically his injury is minor. He just needs to not hold a stick. Skating shouldn’t be an issue at all but...

Fuck, the fear I felt last night when I saw him go down, when I saw half his stick break off and fly away from his body...

It’s something I haven’t felt in a long time .

With nothing to lose, I’ve always gone all in on the ice.

And last night the fact that I now do have something to lose hit me like a ton of bricks. I went blind with rage at that fucking imbecile for how he went at Charlie.

I wanted to pummel him to the ice. I wanted him to suffer.

And that’s not something that happens often.

Even when players go after Jules I don’t feel that much rage.

The little sleep I got was full of dreams where Charlie was seriously hurt, where he didn’t get up, and now I’m just supposed to go on and let him get on the ice like nothing?

Fat chance of that happening.

Not on my watch.

I’d sooner chain him?—

My phone starts ringing then, and it’s like a bucket of water. Not only because it has me up and moving as fast as I can so it doesn’t wake Charlie up, but because it makes me realize how fucking controlling my thoughts were getting.

Who the fuck am I to tell him what he can or cannot do? To let him do anything?

I’m his boyfriend, not his father.

“What?” I answer the call with a hiss, beyond angry at myself.

“You’re benched for a game,” comes Laney’s gruff voice.

“No, I’m not,” I snap back. “Why would I?—”

“Gab’s orders. You need to get yourself under control. I’ll see you for practice in two hours but you’re not playing tonight.”

He hangs up then, no other explanation, just an order.

The edges of my phone bite into my palm, and the urge to fling it across the room is too strong for a second, but then...

“What is it?” comes his sleepy, groggy voice from the bed, and he banishes the anger.

“Gab benched me for a game,” I tell him quietly.

“Are you serious?” he cries and sits up, wide awake now.

I watch him carefully, to see if swinging his arm around hurt his wrist at all, but his face is set in stone. No reaction whatsoever.

I guess that’s one good thing.

“What is wrong with her?” he demands.

“I don’t know, but I need to take a shower and get going if I want to get some time on the bike before practice.” I toss my phone on the bed and walk into the bathroom, close the door firmly behind me, and lean on it for a minute to try and get myself under control.

Charlie doesn’t need me losing my shit today.

He needs my support, and I need to be on top of my fucking emotions if I have any chance of being useful to Jacobs and Wills who will probably take our spots on the line again.

Eventually I do get my shit together, and then I take a quick shower .

Charlie’s frowning down at his phone, still in bed. I’m glad to see him using his left hand mostly, but I know he’s going to want to argue with me about staying off of the ice today, so I don’t give him a choice.

I march right over, tilt his chin up, kiss him hard for one second, then I’m walking away.

“I’m going to the gym. I need to clear my head. You stay here and be careful with your wrist.”

I see as indignation and disbelief start to fill his eyes, so I haul ass out of there.

“Jules is losing his shit,” Bear whispers from the cubby next to mine as soon as I dump my shit in it.

“Why?” I mutter. The gym did fuck all for my mood.

“Because you’re not playing tonight.”

Aww, he’s such a good captain.

“He should save it. The woman has to have something up her sleeve. She doesn’t do anything because she’s angry.”

It fucking burns how much I still trust her after everything she’s done this season, but I know I’m telling the truth.

“Facts,” Bear agrees with a sigh. “I don’t know why she would possibly do this, but she has to have a plan.”

“I hope it works,” I say simply, doubt creeping in. Then I hear it, a sound that sends an immediate alert to my brain because I’ve only ever heard it when shit is going south.

Jules is screeching at Laney as they walk into the locker room. He looks like he’s about one-point-two seconds away from tearing out Laney’s throat.

“How can you be okay with this?” he demands, voice high-pitched.

“Dupont, I don’t owe you explanations and neither does Gab. Get your fucking head straight or you’ll be on the bench tomorrow as well.”

I suck in a sharp breath as I see Jules’s eyes narrow.

He’s thinking about it, I know. Thinking of telling Laney where he can stick it and good fucking luck winning without him—that’s what I would tell our coach if it were me. But that’s why I’m not captain.

And Jules is.

Our Picard.

He takes a deep breath and nods, swallowing his pride and remembering his place.

“Good, now suit the fuck up,” Laney shouts. He clearly didn’t get himself under control.

But that’s okay, he can afford to lose it.

And honestly, if I were in his shoes, I’d be freaking the fuck out too.

Unless he knows what Gab’s plan is . . .

Doubtful.

Jules only spares me a pained glance before he sits at his cubby in the borrowed locker room that is always shit. Head in his hands, he spends the next five minutes breathing as the rest of the team files in, and as everyone hears the news.

There’s outrage, and still Jules stays quiet.

Looks like it’s up to me to remind these fuckers who is steering this Pirate ship.

“Enough,” I shout over all the commotion. “She is Gabrielle fucking Darnell. She has been fighting for this team since the moment she even thought about becoming the owner. She has fought and won endless battles against men greater than any of us, so shut the fuck up and get suited up. If you idiots have any shot of winning without me and Heart then you all need to learn a few things.”

That finally shuts them up. I start walking out, my stick in hand, but then I think they need more reprimanding.

“Oh, and he’s fine by the way, not that any of you assholes asked.”

Laney pats me on the shoulder when I step onto the ice. He looks as weary as I feel, but I know he’s still going to do the best he can with this team. I nod at him and do a couple of laps to get my head straight.

Charlie’s fine, and if Gab wants to teach me some kind of lesson by not letting me play tomorrow, then that’s fine too. I’m not going to let it stop me from doing everything I possibly can to help the Pirates win.

Everything that’s going on off the ice falls away as I focus on the drills and on checking how the baby defense is doing.

It’s not looking great. They have good enough synergy between them, but when they defend in front of Bear they don’t work with him, mostly they just get in the way.

It’s only been half an hour, and I can see dread start to take over the mood. But then the assistant coach calls Laney over to the bench, and instead of keeping the drills going, everybody stops when he walks down the tunnel and out of sight.

“Get back to work,” I snap at the babies.

All of them are acting like babies, and I won’t have that. I haven’t broken my back for more than a decade to see this team fail now that we have the best team in the league. These guys are the best of the best in their age range, and they’re acting like they don’t know shit.

“What is wrong with you Jacobs?” I shout at him. “I saw you pass better when you were in the Juniors, come on!”

I feel bad for the kid because he only fumbles harder with his stick then.

I sigh and look around.

Am I the problem? Still?

After getting the team’s mood back to what it was last year I thought I was done fucking things up, but now...

I see Laney come back out and someone is with him. When the shadows get clearer I see it’s someone dressed in full gear.

“Who’s that?” I hear Spiderman grumble next to me.

“I do not know,” I tell him. “But you go play with Jacobs and Wills. Make sure they learn your rhythm better this time.”

“Timmy?” comes a screech from the other side of the ice. As one we all turn to Benny, and see him start to fly down the ice at full speed to the opening of the tunnel. “Timmy Daniels,” he shouts again, more gleeful than surprised.

My mouth drops open.

He’s wearing a Pirates sweater, all decked out like he’s...

“Gab traded for him?” Milkman says in wonder on Spiderman’s other side. “I hope she didn’t trade me,” he grumbles.

My mind was already going there.

I don’t think she would’ve traded Milkman, but if the day’s events—and really her attitude all season—are anything to go by, I’m the one who’s on the cutting board.

With that thought, all the blood drains from my face.

The only reason I don’t fall on my face is because Spiderman grabs my arm.