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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Carter

Bash passes me the puck and I make a slap shot toward the net, someone crashing into me and knocking me to the ice before I can see whether it made it in.

The sound of the crowd tells me it did. I push myself out from underneath an opponent’s leg and up from the ice.

I glance over and see that it was Cal Fournier who hit me. That guy’s the least coordinated hockey player I’ve ever known; I have no idea how he managed to land on a pro roster.

My teammates surround me for a celebration. I tap gloves with them, wondering if Suki is watching a broadcast of the game. When I text her after games, she always knows whether we won or lost. If we win, she congratulates me. If we lose, she doesn’t mention the game.

Once I’m back on the bench, I grab a towel and wipe down my sweaty face. Playing against Nashville is always intense. They almost score, Isaac diving in front of the goal and barely making a save.

“Saw your Christmas pictures,” Bash says from beside me. “You and Darling look like a happy couple.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughs. “You gonna be mad at Leo over the pig for the rest of your life?”

“Probably.”

“How big’s it gonna get?”

“Two fifty to five hundred.”

“Holy shit. What are you gonna do?”

I scowl, following the game. “What can I do? The girls love the damn thing.”

“Does it smell?”

“No, pigs are actually clean. If they can’t get to any mud.”

Lucien snarls at one of the new Nashville players, throwing a glove to the ice and punching him in the face in about two seconds flat. The game stops while they trade punches, the opponent putting both arms up in an effort to protect himself.

“Who is that?” I ask Bash.

“Rookie. I don’t remember his name. Weighs about a buck sixty.”

Lucien doesn’t unleash his worst on the kid; after about half a dozen punches, he skates over to the penalty box. The refs congregate to discuss the penalties.

I grab my water bottle and squeeze a shot of water into my mouth.

“What does Suki think about the pig?” Bash asks me.

“She says we can’t get rid of it.”

“You’re stuck with it, then.”

I sigh and shake my head. “I thought we’d be stuck with a twenty-five pound one. This fucker could crush me in my sleep. Or one of the girls.”

“Maybe he needs his own room.”

I shoot him a glare. “Don’t suggest that around Suki or the girls. I’m not paying for a pig room.”

He scoffs. “You really trusted Leo to handle this?”

Leo leans forward from nearby us on the bench, and looks at me. “I said I was sorry about the confusion. You wanted a little pig and I found you a little pig.”

“A micro pig, you dipshit. I have a farm hog living in my house now.”

The sound of the whistle makes me turn and focus on the game again. I can’t let myself get distracted until it’s over. If I don’t give a game a hundred percent of my attention, little things slide and I make mistakes.

I’ve just stopped actively sweating when we change lines and I go back in. I can feel the couple of workouts I missed on Christmas Eve and Christmas as I dig to get up and down the ice. After the debacle that was Thanksgiving, Suki told her family we wanted a low-key Christmas at home this year with just the five of us.

It was perfect. She made a roast and we all stayed in our pajamas all day. Or rather, I stayed in the pajama pants I changed back into and my sweater because the girls insisted I wear it for the entire day.

I haven’t had a Christmas like that since I was a kid. I thought about my mom and Rachel, and I think Suki thought of her family, too. It was the first time she’d ever not seen her family on Christmas, and she did that for me and the girls.

I’ve never been with a woman who didn’t put her wants first. Even when Kaia flew to Cleveland for my games, it was about her. She wanted to be seen and photographed before and after the games, preferably with me. Everything she did was in pursuit of her ultimate goal--a pro athlete husband.

Suki does a hundred little things a day for me and the girls just because it’s who she is. When she makes spaghetti, Olivia gets plain sauce instead of meat sauce. Every time I have a home game, I come home to a plate of grilled chicken and vegetables in the fridge, my favorite postgame meal.

I know I’m in deep with her because it feels even better to do things for her. I felt like a rock star when she opened the necklace. And when I kissed her, it was raw, real desire pouring from her. None of that fake bullshit I’m used to from women.

That kiss has been on my mind since the second it ended. Even now, I have to force my mind not to wander to the way she felt in my arms. I haven’t had sex in more than six months and every bit of my pent-up sexual energy is focused on Suki.

My wife. It no longer sounds crazy like it did at first.

We edge out a 3–2 win and I’m still full of energy as we head to the visiting locker room. As soon as I get to my phone, I find a text from Suki.

Suki: Great game! Darling snorted his approval when you scored.

She attached a picture of her and Darling in bed, her in a white tank top with her hair fanned out on the pillow and him snuggled up to her chest.

I’m jealous of him. His snout is just casually resting on her breast. I’d give my left nut to be there right now.

I text her back.

Carter: Thanks. It’ll be good to get home.

What I mean is it’ll be good to get home to her, but we’re still doing a dance where we don’t say things like that. I’m tired of the dance. What I really want to say is ditch the pig, put on something sexy and wait for me to come bury my face in your pussy.

Damn, would it be nice to get into bed to find her ready to finish what we started with the kiss. I ache for it. I’ve seen so many of her facial expressions, from surprised to amused to exhausted. I’ve heard her laugh, be gentle but stern with the girls and be firm with Darling. But what does she look like when she’s about to come? What does she sound like when she does?

I’ve never seen so many sides of a woman I wanted while still panting after her like a fucking dog. I want that last part of Suki I’m missing, and I want it bad.

“Your tub’s ready,” one of our trainers tells me.

I nod, strip down and head for the ice bath. When I step in, my thoughts of Suki are frozen away. Ice baths are great for recovery but not so great for fantasizing about what it would feel like for your wife to ride you until she milks you dry.

Our flight home takes an hour and a half, and I’m climbing the stairs to get to the bedroom around 1:45 a.m. The closer I get to Suki, the harder my dick gets.

I can’t do it like this, waking her up in the middle of the night, but I also can’t continue wanting her so badly and not acting on it.

When I switch on the bathroom light, it casts a faint glow into the bedroom and I see Darling in the middle of the bed, his back to Suki’s chest.

That lucky bastard. If I felt her tits against my back right now, I’d probably shoot my load. Six months plus with no sex is basically a medical condition.

I strip down to boxer briefs and get in bed, pushing one of Darling’s hooves out of my way.

Now to see if I can actually sleep. Tomorrow’s the day we’ve been waiting for--the hearing when the judge will decide if Chad gets the girls or I do.

Through my attorney, I offered him two weeks with them every summer because she advised me that the judge would want them to have at least some contact with him if he wanted it.

I’m a wreck over it, which is another reason I’m not waking Suki up to tell her I’ve got perpetual blue balls over her. This isn’t the time.

Tomorrow, I’ll either find out I get to keep the girls, or I’ll be devastated. That has to be my priority.

But whichever way it goes, I want Suki to stay in my life. It’s a sobering thought that it might not be “our lives” anymore. The thought of me and Suki here without the girls is something I can’t even wrap my head around.

The minutes tick by and I stare up at the dark ceiling, absently petting the top of Darling’s head as I try not to imagine telling the girls they have to move to Alaska to live with the father they don’t even know.