Page 78 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

NOT THE ICEMAN

Alix

Boy, that day was tough. I only worked five hours, but those were five long hours. My smile was pasted on my face like a rictus, and guys I’d never met kept coming up to me, asking, “Are you the one who’s Sebastian Robillard’s girlfriend? That was some game.” Awkward.

At this moment, in fact, Carlton was saying, “Man, I was sweating that thing. For about ninety-nine percent of it, I was feeling stupid that I believed you and bet on the Devils. Then it finally looks good, and the Niners just about score again.” He shook his head.

“I about threw up my nachos. My wife would’ve killed me if I’d lost that much. ”

“Could make you rethink the betting deal,” I said. “Personally, I have enough stress in my life without adding more.”

“Where’s the excitement if you don’t bet?” he said. “Got to have skin in the game.”

“Not sure I could have stood any extra excitement,” I said.

“Yeah,” LouAnn said, “but that’s because he’s your boyfriend, and he probably gets in a really pissy mood if they lose.

I had a boyfriend who put his fist through the wall because his fast-pitch softball team lost, and that was recreational.

Idiot. I moved out, but not fast enough.

I guess Sebastian doesn’t do that, or you’d be gone, because I bet you don’t put up with that kind of shit.

But seriously? Stress in your life? You’re going out with an NFL player! I wish I had that kind of stress.”

This was “none of your business” territory all the way, but I couldn’t help answering. “Sebastian doesn’t get in a pissy mood. He’s an even-keel guy.”

“Well, yeah,” Carlton said. “He’s a kicker. Got to have that real low resting heart rate.”

LouAnn wasn’t done. “Is he going to get, like, millions more dollars a year after this? It seems like they’d pay him millions more dollars. He basically won the game. He got about half their points.”

Carlton said, “More than half. Ten points out of sixteen. He was the difference, all right.”

“I don’t know anything about the money,” I said, even though I probably had a clue. “Not my business.”

“He’s off contract now,” Carlton said, “and you bet he’ll be getting offers.

A kicker like that? That’s money in the bank, because he’s, like, Steady Eddie.

” He snapped his fingers. “Iceman, that should be his nickname. He’s cool, and he can kick in the snow.

I bet he has five, six teams looking at him at least, trying to snap him up once the free-agent market opens in March.

That’s going to be a bidding war. Hey, know what’s funny? ”

“No,” I said, “but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.” Unfortunately, we were on break, so I couldn’t do my usual get-back-to-work thing.

Carlton said, “The three teams that popped into my head right off? Jets, Giants, Bills. All New York teams, and he’s from Ottawa, right?

Probably likes the snow. I bet that’s where he ends up.

Choosing between Buffalo, though, or New York City, with a bunch of money?

I mean, Buffalo’s a way better team right now, but Buffalo?

You got rain and snow. I did North Dakota for a while, in the oil shale fields, and no thanks on working outside in that weather. ”

“Wait,” LouAnn said. “If he goes to another team, he’s going to take you, right?”

“What?” I asked stupidly.

She said, “I heard a rumor that you’re quitting.

It’s the day after the Super Bowl, and suddenly you’re quitting?

Not that I blame you. If some big, strong, good-looking guy swooped me up and said, ‘Ditch the Carhartts, because you’re coming to New York City with me to help spend my ten million dollars,’ I’d be out of here so fast, the only thing anybody’d see is my hard hat.

That’s because I’d throw my hard hat. Is he going to buy you a new car?

If he does, ask for a Range Rover, or maybe a Genesis EV70.

Those cars are so classy, and they’re SUVs, so you can still carry stuff and go off-road.

The Genesis is electric, so you wouldn’t even have to buy gas. ”

“Boring, though,” Carlton said. “An SUV instead of a sports car? She’s not going to have to carry anything, and what does she care about gas prices?

Not like she’ll be driving to work anymore.

Porsche 911 Turbo S Coupe, or maybe the Corvette Z06, that’s what I’d get.

The Corvette’s got the looks, but the Porsche beats the Ferrari and the Lamborghini for speed and handling.

That thing’s beast mode. Probably a pretty stiff ride, but who cares? ”

“Except that no NFL player’s ever going to sweep you off your feet,” LouAnn said.

“Look who’s talking,” Carlton said. “That true, though, Alix? You’re quitting?”

I said, “Rumors get a whole lot wrong. I wouldn’t listen to them. Break’s over. Let’s get back to work.”

That breakfast was sitting pretty heavily in my stomach, and I hadn’t even had whipped cream. I hadn’t been making any life decisions with Sebastian in mind. Had I?

Boy, I hoped not.

Sebastian

If Alix called and told me she was going to the trailer after work, I’d decided, I was going after her. I didn’t know what was going on here, and I needed to.

She showed up, though, at six, same as always. She kissed me like usual, and held my face the way she did when she was emotional, but I thought there could be some tears there.

I made my decision fast. “Let’s take a walk,” I said. “Come on, Lexi.”

Ben said, “She already had two walks today. Lexi, I mean.”

“She doesn’t seem bothered by taking another one,” I said. Since Lexi was standing next to the door at the word “walk” with her tail waving madly and a Golden Retriever smile on her face, that was a safe bet. “Tell you what, Ben. You’re in charge of the dinner order tonight.”

“Seriously?” he said. “So I can order pizza?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But get a salad, too.”

“Dude,” Ben said, “pizza has vegetables already.”

“Salad.” I pulled my jacket from the hook and realized, “Oh. Need a shower first, Alix?”

“I’ll get it when we get back,” she said, but her shoulders looked tense to me, like she saw the showdown coming.

I headed up into the hills, because I thought better when my heart was beating a little harder, and I thought Alix did, too.

She didn’t say much until I was leading the way up the many steep sets of stairs that were the shortcut to the Forest Park, so I got it going.

I’d thought all day about how to do this, and I still didn’t know, so I just plunged in .

“You were weird when I told you about the San Francisco thing,” I said. “I thought you’d be excited. What’s up with that?”

She actually stopped walking. I knew, because Lexi stopped, so I turned around. Alix said, “You honestly can’t think of a reason?”

“Is this a trick question?” The frustration I’d felt since the restaurant was right there. “I can’t read your mind. You’re going to have to tell me.”

“Because I love you!” It wasn’t some murmured confession. It was a shout, and her arm was waving, too. “How do you imagine I feel when you tell me you’re leaving me? I’m supposed to be excited? Are you an actual lunatic?”

I could only stare at her. “What?”

“All right.” She was breathing hard, and not from the steps.

“All right, you are this clueless. I get you’ve had trauma and might not be fully …

fully emotionally aware right now, or whatever, and you just played in the Super Bowl.

I get it, OK? I know I’m not that special, too.

I’ve never had any illusions about that.

But it—” She stopped, breathed, and I thought she was trying to hold back some tears.

“But it hurts.” It was almost a whisper.

Alix was always tough. Always. Even when she was hurting. And I couldn’t stand this. Unfortunately, I was also mad. I said, “What are you talking about? Why would I be leaving you? Me? When have I ever— ever— made you think that?”

“Excuse me? When you talked about going back to San Francisco? In case you haven’t noticed, I live in Portland!”

I heard something behind me, and Lexi was tugging on the leash. I turned around, and there was a guy in running clothes coming down, looking impatient. I said, “Sorry,” and stepped to one side, taking Lexi with me when she would have done her “Hi, hi, hi” thing to her new friend.

The guy said, “You’re Sebastian Robillard. ”

I did not need this. “Yeah,” I said. “Hi.”

Alix muttered, “You’re kidding.” I agreed.

“Good job yesterday,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, and fortunately, he started running again. I told Alix, “We can’t talk like this. Let’s go to the top of the steps and sit down.”

“I understand you’re a hero,” she said. “I’m proud of you. I couldn’t be more proud. But it—I can’t do this.”

“But we are doing this. Come on.”

She said, “This is so not the time for your bossy NFL persona.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “It’s exactly the time for that. Come on.”

Four more flights of steps, and I sank onto the top one and said, “Come sit with me.”

“Fine,” she said, and did it. “I realize I’m not being entirely rational,” she added after a moment.

“But I turned down that project engineer job last Wednesday. I gave notice, too. I’m officially out of a job, because I had a whole plan.

I’m not going to be proud. I’m going to tell you that this is a major blow.

And I realize—” Some more deep breaths. “I realize that we’ve only been together a few months, and that’s obviously not long enough.

But it’s felt long enough to me, OK? I was on the rebound, though, so maybe?—”

I put my hand over her mouth.

She glared at me, so I took it away and said, “Sorry. But could you shut up for a minute and let me talk?”

A wave of her hand, and I said, “In what universe wouldn’t you realize what I was saying when I told you about the San Francisco idea?”

“In this universe.” She was still glaring. “If you’re explaining, that’s not an explanation.”