Page 39

The plane ride is excruciating. We’re one hour into the three-hour flight to Vegas and my stomach has not settled. You’d think I’d be used to the turbulence on plane rides since I’ve spent sixteen years in the NHL, flying twice a week all around Canada and the States, and even overseas to the Olympics. But I’m not.

It’s not as bad as boats, but still, my motion sickness has never gone away. I’ve popped some anti-nausea meds, which helps a bit. As long as I keep my head between my knees, I’ll be fine.

Thank god for first-class seats with extra space.

The air stirs around the empty seat beside me as someone sits down. I don’t have to lift my head to know it’s Leah. Her intoxicating scent of rain and vanilla washes over me, settling my stomach more than the meds did.

Her warm hand rubs circles on my back, and the soothing motion eases the remaining nausea.

I didn’t stick around Leah’s apartment for long after I gave Levi his present, making an excuse of an appointment before the trip. I didn’t have one, but I couldn’t stay—not with Leah looking at me that way, her big green eyes full of confusion and hope.

These last few months have been rough. I wish I could say I’ve come to some conclusion, some way to get everything I want, but it’s not that simple.

I’m in love with Leah, and I love her son. I’ve lived in Vancouver for six years and besides Montreal, it’s the only place that feels like home, especially this past year. Again, that’s all Leah.

There’s talk of me being traded back to Montreal, which normally wouldn’t be a bad thing since my dad lives there. Even though he’s married, with his track record, it won’t last long.

Guilt lances through me as I think of choosing not to go home. He understands the demands of the job—I have no say in where I go. Even when I was playing in California, I would fly him out for my games and he was fine. But if I choose to retire and stay in Vancouver?

I don’t know how he’d react. He’s never loved anyone like he loved my mom, and she left him. Would he understand if I stayed in Vancouver for Leah and Levi? I wish I knew. I wish I knew if he loved me enough to be happy for me.

And the final question ... am I ready to retire? After my injury I would’ve said yes, it’s fine, I’m done. But then we went on to win the Stanley Cup, and I don’t know if I can give that up yet. It’s been my whole life—I don’t have a backup plan. I’ve never given much thought to retirement.

Will I coach, like Adam? That’s unlikely since I’m not great with people .

I’m a goalie. That’s my singular skill. Thirty-five is getting up there in the hockey world, but in the normal world? It’s still young. I have so much life left, and I don’t know what to do with it.

Images flash through my mind as Leah continues to silently rub my back. Images of buying a house in the city, one with a backyard for Levi and his siblings to run around and play in.

Coming home and making dinner, having it ready when Leah gets home from work. Holding her in my arms every day.

Every night.

It feels like the best fucking dream I’ve ever had, but what am I doing in the hours she’s at work and the kids are at school? As much as I love her and I want that future, I don’t know if I can have it without a plan in place for myself.

If I don’t retire and sign a contract, either with the Whales or another team, I’ll have another few years to figure it out.

But I might lose Leah in the process.

“Are you okay?” Her soft voice breaks into my spiralling thoughts. I can’t look at her though. I’m not ready.

So I nod.

“Thank you for the present for Levi. He loves it.” The smile in her voice is evident.

“I’m glad.”

I want her to keep talking to me, but I don’t know what to say. We didn’t speak when I came to the apartment yesterday, and this is the first time in months we’ve had a conversation.

If you can call this a conversation .

“Julien?” I close my eyes at the sound of my name. No number of hours in the gym could build up my strength to resist this woman.

When our eyes connect, like they do every morning we run, a jolt of awareness, want, and safety runs through me. She’s my home.

She doesn’t say anything as we watch each other, but the plane lurches, jostling us. Our legs touch and I expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t. The contact is too much and not enough.

“Yeah?” I finally answer.

“I was wondering ...” She trails off.

Is this it? Is she going to ask me to stay? To leave? Her face is so serious, and my returning nausea has nothing to do with the plane and everything to do with the woman beside me.

“Why didn’t you bring me a birthday present?” Her face morphs from serious to mock angry and the tightness clenched around my insides loosens in a huff of laughter.

She smiles tentatively at my reaction, and the feeling of winning something big warms me.

“Does it count that I won the Stanley Cup and, in my mind, dedicated it to you?”

She pauses, pretending to think. “I mean, if I get home and the Stanley Cup is sitting on my coffee table, then yeah, it counts.”

I burst out laughing. Even though I know it’s a joke, I wonder if I can’t convince Coach to let me borrow it when we get back.

I fucking hate Vegas. I thank the hockey gods I was never traded here because it’s hot as hell in June, and there are way too many people. And a weekend in June on the Vegas strip? I’d shatter a bone just to get out of it.

Dislocate my other hip, please.

We got in last night and everyone settled into their hotel rooms. We booked Adam and Paige a suite on a completely different floor from us on purpose. Those two get loud. I do not want to recall why I know that. But everyone in the wedding party agreed, so it was an easy call.

They grinned to themselves at check-in when they realized what we did, rushing up to their room as soon as they got their key card. Their poor neighbours. The rest of us had a quiet night in our rooms, after the flight got in at a late hour on Thursday.

The drill sergeant—otherwise known as Leah—had us up bright and early, ready with her printed and laminated itineraries—one for each person. When she handed mine to me, our fingers brushed and her gaze lingered a little longer on me. It’s been torture being this close to her again without being able to be with her.

If I got traded, maybe the feelings would go away once I wasn’t around her anymore.

Maybe that was the problem. We never had enough distance. I couldn’t let her go easily—I had to see her as much as possible.

That first morning when I passed her on my run, I told myself I would stop if she asked me to .

She looked beautifully shocked but said nothing. And every morning we’re out running, the moment when we pass is the highlight of my day. The days she doesn’t run are unbearable.

From what I can tell, she’s taken to it. Her form is improving, and she doesn’t look so much like she’s dying. The race on Sunday morning may prove different, especially given this heat.

“Hey, Richard, use those long legs and keep up,” Leah calls from the front of the group. We’re on her dessert crawl right now, nearing the end. I don’t think I can eat any more sugar.

The only other grump here besides me is Liam, Adam’s eldest brother. But he always seems to be in a bad mood, so I can’t tell.

I snort at Leah calling me by my last name. It sounds too hot coming from her mouth in that tone—exasperated and teasing at the same time. I don’t know how she manages it.

The last dessert ends up being the best. Sure, it tastes incredible, but watching Leah lick an ice cream cone? Heaven and torture. Always the mixed feelings with this one.

I take a glance at the itinerary and groan. We have some time back at the hotel to change, then dinner in the adjoining restaurant before our evening activity.

A fucking Magic Mike show.

My hackles rise, picturing us there.

It’s as bad as I imagine. The show is pretty spectacular, and I’m impressed at the moves these guys are pulling off. The whole wedding party, including grumpy old Liam, are out of their seats and cheering .

I know it’s coming—it was on the secret itinerary for the wedding party, but not Adam and Paige’s. I still bristle when Paige and her bridespeople—Paige, Leah, Isabel, Shay, and Jake—are pulled up on stage.

The other guys seem to be having the time of their lives. Paige and Jake are the only ones with partners here, and Jake’s husband Simon, Adam’s second eldest brother, whistles loudly and cheers them on.

Adam only has eyes for Paige, but even though he’s smiling, I see the slightest tension in his shoulders. He loosens up when he sees how much fun Paige is having.

I do not loosen up for one second. Adam knows Paige is coming home with him. She’s his. But watching Leah up there, surrounded by men who are literally paid to be sexy and turn people on?

No fucking way. I have no power here though. It’s not like I can stomp up there and fireman carry her off the stage. I could take out the security guards no problem. It’s tempting.

Imagining every possible way to get Leah away from these dancers is the one thing keeping me sane while she’s up there. I swear her eyes flash to me a few times, seductive and taunting as if she knows this is killing me.

I watch as they dance around her, grabbing her wrists to run her hands down their chiselled abs. I’m practically breathing fire by the time the segment is done and the audience cheers for the bridal party leaving the stage.

She’s not mine. I have to remind myself.

Except she feels like mine.

Fuck, I want her to be mine .

She takes a seat as far away from me as possible, and I have to sit there and watch the rest of this show, stewing in my irrational jealousy.