Page 68 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)
Thirty-Four
Beth
“I’m okay, love. I promise.”
His eyes did that thing they did when I called him that.
Warm Caribbean ocean.
White sand beaches.
Hot, humid air on my skin.
A cocktail in my hand, my sexy shirtless male next to me.
“We’re going on vacation once I can have a Mai Tai,” I commanded.
He grinned, smoothed his hand over my cheek. “Sure you’re good?”
We were standing in one of the tunnels of the arena, an elevator nearby, ready to take me up to the concourse and the seat I’d park my ass in to watch the game.
Then Raph had gotten permission for me to take the plane home with him.
And we’d be back in Baltimore.
Back to our lives.
I couldn’t wait.
For the first time ever, my life was uncomplicated and light, and I was happy.
Happy!
So yeah, I rose on tiptoe, brushed my lips over his, nudged him back.
“I’m about to watch my man play hockey.” Another nudge.
“So, I’m sure I’m good.” I watched him struggle, not wanting to leave me, and, no lie, that warmed my heart.
But he needed to get ready for the game, so I added, “I expect two goals tonight.”
A smirk. “That’s all?”
My hand down his chest, sliding over his skintight undershirt that cupped every muscle in a way that had me wanting to coax him down the hall and find an empty room to show him exactly how much I liked it.
But…work.
Alas.
He had it.
“Two goals,” I chirped, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “That’s all.”
And then I brushed my lips to his again and waddled to the elevator, waving to him just before the doors closed.
His smile tucked its way into my heart.
Or maybe painted itself onto a giant canvas which magically hung itself over the hearth in m castle’s family room.
Either way, it was perfect.
The crowd groaned, but I was cheering.
Because Raph had just surpassed my challenge.
A hat trick.
He winked at me as he skated by. No sugarpies through the glass because I was about twelve rows back.
But still close enough to see that smile, that wink, to toss a hat that bounced off my shoulder onto the ice to join the couple of others trickling down to celebrate Raph’s hat trick. I’d known my impromptu trip to DC had been worth it about ten seconds into his first shift.
He was back.
And I…was someone new.
The inside matching the outside for the first time ever.
Grinning, I watched the Breakers trounce their opponents, the crowd thinning as the deficit in score increased, and even though I hated to waste a minute, the babies had decided to play trampoline on my bladder.
So, at the next whistle, I hefted myself out of my seat, grabbed my purse, and waddled my ass up the long, long staircase.
Out of breath, I took a minute to just suck in air at the top, watching as the puck dropped down below and Walker began leading his line on a drive up the ice.
“Excuse me?”
I whirled, realized I was blocking most of the top of the stairs. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I told the woman who’d come up next to me, two young boys at her side. “Here,” I said, “You take my spot. I’m leaving anyway.”
“Oh, please don’t.”
Okay, that was weird.
“Um,” I glanced at the usher whose gaze was on the game far below.
“Please stay.”
Yeah. This was giving me all sorts of vibes…and not any of them were good.
I backed up a step, debating on whether I should move back down the stairs or just sidle away and use my pass to take the elevator back downstairs.
A glance down to the boys at her side. “Please.”
“I’m sorry, I really should go.”
“How is he?”
I frowned.
“My boy.” A beat. “How is he?”
That was the moment my heart began pounding, thudding against my ribcage.
That was the moment I decided to stop trying to be polite and turned to leave.
A hand gripping my arm tightly halted me.
Slowly, I spun back to face them, glancing from the boys—whose focus was still on the game—back up to the woman.
There was something…almost familiar about her, something that pinged into the back of my mind, something that prickled along my spine.
“Let go of me,” I said carefully, taking a step back, away from the top of the stairs, away from the woman, even though she still gripped my wrist. Which meant that my arm was now awkwardly stretched out.
But hopefully making clear to anyone who so much as glanced at me that I was not happy about this contact.
“Let go of me,” I said louder.
Loud enough that the usher turned to us, concern entering the slender blond woman’s face. “Excuse me, are you okay?”
“I’d like her to let go of me—” I began.
The fingers on my arm tightened. “You need to bring him back to us.” My body jerked as the woman yanked at my arm. “You need to have him talk to me.”
The usher stepped closer, pulled out her radio.
“Who?”
“My Raphael. You need to get him to talk to me. Not for me. For my boys?—”
Boys who were now distracted from the ice and staring at me and their mother and?—
The woman jerked my arm again, hard enough to send pain shooting up that arm. “You have to,” she said, leaning close enough that I could see every line in her face, could see every shade of blue in her eyes.
Her. Eyes.
And that was when I put the pieces together.
And that was when…my happy disappeared.