Page 27 of Nash (Hockey Royalty #4)

Chapter 26

Nash

W e lose 3-2 because of course we do. I hobble off the ice a frothing pool of self-loathing and frustration. The locker room has the same energy I’m feeling, minus the ‘you’re the shittiest husband that ever lived’ vibe. Coach Braddock walks in and before he can say anything I announce, “No media for me.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You’re a captain.”

“One of the captains. Crew can handle it.” I won’t walk into that room and waste my time answering questions when I could be on my way home to find Tenley. To fix this mess I made.

“I can,” Crew backs me up even though I’ve told him nothing about the problem I’ve created, or the way my heart feels like it’s repeatedly hitting barbed wire every time it beats, and how I couldn’t even distract myself while playing, which is probably part of why we lost.

“How’s the leg?” Coach wants to know. It’s the perfect thing to blame my exit on, only it might land me in the press box for the next game. Besides, at this point, I can’t bring myself to lie. Lying is what got me into this.

“It’s the same. I just fucked up with the wife and need to fix it asap,” I explain and the murmurs around the room start to fade out.

You fucked up? With your fake wife? And that’s more important than talking to the press, which is your job? Coach says none of that but it’s written all over his face. He clears his throat. “Crew, you’re up with Casco and Pattison. Unless you all have something more important to do too?”

They all shake their heads vigorously. I am in more shit. Fantastic.

I hadn’t seen Tenley on my quick glances up at the friends and family seats during the game so I’m not surprised when, after a shower and throwing on my suit, I don’t see her in the VIP lounge either. I do see my parents though and they wave me over. “I can’t stay. I have to find Tenley. You don’t happen to know where she is?”

Mom shakes her head and shrugs. “Not sure, but I’m worried about your leg, kiddo,” Dad says. “Do they know what’s going on with it?”

“Not yet, but we’re working on it,” I say, which is as close to the truth as I’m willing to get right now. My dad and mom will rightfully freak out at even the smallest chance this might be cancer and I don’t have time to handle that. I need to find my wife. “I’m gonna go find her. We had a fight.”

Mom looks immediately sympathetic. “Honey. I’m sorry. Go. Find her and figure it out.”

I shoot her a smile I don’t feel and leave the VIP area and then the arena. I hit a clog of traffic a few blocks from the loft, which isn’t surprising, but totally aggravating. Los Angeles is not for someone with low patience on a good day. When I finally get to the loft I’m not shocked to find it empty. Her stuff is gone too. Even that silly plant, Palm-ela Anderson is gone from her perch at the end of my kitchen island. Fuck.

I run my hands into my hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. My phone dings with a text message and I move so quickly to pull it from my pocket I almost drop it. I hope against hope that it’s a message from Tenley, but it’s not. It’s a message from Gabby.

GABBY: Hey. I think I know who tipped Tenley off.

After her text there’s an attached screen shot. I click it without responding to her and enlarge it. It’s a picture of me and Gabby eating in New York and we look like we’re on a date.

GABBY: It’s from that dumpster fire of a site. Warren.

NASH: Shit. Tenley moved out.

GABBY: Does she still have her own place?

Right. Of course. She's in that rental in West Hollywood. I don't answer Gabby with anything more than a thumbs up and I jog back to my car. Once again the traffic on the streets of Los Angeles is trying to kill me. I could probably run there faster, and I would try if my leg wasn't sore. It takes me another twenty minutes to find parking because West Hollywood is permit-only in most places and Tenley's unit is smashed in between Sunset and Santa Monica, two streets with popular bars. By the time I get to her front door, it's almost midnight, but there's a light on through the gauzy curtains in the living room. To be honest I would knock regardless.

“Go away,” she calls about thirty seconds after I knock.

“No.”

“I’ll call the cops.”

“Oh well.”

It's silent. I wait five minutes and knock again. "Tenley, I will stay here all night if I have to."

“Sweet dreams!”

I grit my teeth, and then an idea hits me. I try the storm door handle. She didn’t lock it. I grab the handle on the oak door and twist. It’s locked, but I can tell it’s flimsy so I consider throwing my weight into it and hoping it gives. But then her landlord or a neighbor will probably call the cops. I move to the big living room window that faces the door. It’s huge, about two feet from the ceiling and one foot from the ground, and like everything else in the building, it’s old. I push on it and it slides open without so much as a groan. Whacking at the curtains, I step through the open window. And I’m promptly smacked square in the face by a flying throw pillow.

“Ouch! Fuck!”

“Intruder!” she yells.

“Tenley, I just want to talk to you. Please!” Another pillow clips my shoulder, almost knocking me over because it’s a bean bag filling. Or maybe it’s rocks? “Please stop!”

I try to find her but now there’s a light being flashed right at me. It’s so fucking bright. What the hell? I raise a hand to shield my eyes and another pillow glances off my forehead. “I said leave. We aren’t really married and I’m done pretending. Leave.”

“But we are really sleeping together and if that’s going to be done, I want a discussion,” I say as another pillow blocks out the right light as it sails toward me and I manage to duck.

She doesn't move the light fast enough and I manage to see her, standing by her couch, so I quickly hurdle over her crappy little coffee table and snatch the light from her hand. It's the heaviest flashlight I've ever held and the ends are jagged metal. I toss it onto the couch and a zap of electricity sparks from the uneven edges. My eyes widen. "What the hell was that."

“You just tazed my couch!” Tenley says and pushes me away. “Please go Nash.”

“I dare you to shut the hell up, stop trying to brain me, and listen!”

She opens her mouth but closes it immediately. I almost think I’m about to get my way until she marches over to the front door and opens it. “Our games are over.”

“I didn’t cheat on you.”

“You’re not fucking her?”

“No. I haven’t… in months.” She blinks and I can see a ripple of pain cross her face and it creates a wave of guilt in my heart. “Gabby and I had a bed buddy thing months ago, well before I realized I was married. But, fuck… not before I was married and I get that is a technicality that only you and I understand so this looks… it looks horrific and I am dying inside, Ten, knowing this humiliates you.”

She sniffs and sighs. “It doesn’t humiliate me. I don’t give a shit what the media says or what the WAGs think. So, you didn’t cheat? You aren’t, since you we started hooking up, involved with her emotionally or physically?”

“Never emotionally and not physically in months. Well before you and I got involved.”

“Then you didn’t cheat.” She says frankly and I almost feel relief. Until… “But you did lie to me.”

“I did.” She blinks like she wasn’t expecting me to be honest. The shock has her stay quiet a beat so I keep talking. “Because I was scared to tell you why I had to go to New York. But it has nothing to do with Gabby. She was with me as a representative of the Quake.”

“What?” Her pretty face is dripping with sarcasm as she says, “The Quake ordered you to wine and dine the trainer?”

“I went to New York with Gabby for a medical consult on my leg.”

She finally pushes the door closed. I sigh in relief. But she still looks angry enough to throw something. Thankfully she folds her arms over her chest instead. She’s wearing a white tank, with no bra, and a pair of pajama shorts. Her golden hair is yanked back into a ponytail and she has smudges of makeup under her eyes like she’s been crying. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because I wasn’t ready to talk about it, to anyone.” I sigh. “And because you already were… you already are in the middle of a cancer scare with your aunt Callie and I just couldn’t throw more shit at you. It wasn’t fair to do that to someone that, as you just pointed out, isn’t my actual wife.”

“I am your wife. I have the paperwork,” she argues. “And what the hell does a cancer scare have to do with your… leg?”

I see the light bulb go off and her whole face pales so fast it’s almost comical. A hand flies to her mouth, trying to hide the fact that it just fell wide open. “Nash. Oh my God. Do you have?—”

“No.” Fuck . “I don’t know. But the doctor doesn’t think it’s cancer. He thinks it’s benign and it’s this thing called a schwannoma and can be removed.”

“Thank God.” Her whole body crumples against the wall. I walk closer to her but she holds out a hand to stop me. “I’m still pissed you didn’t bother to tell me.”

“Tenley, I haven’t told anyone. Not my parents or even Crew,” I argue back. “I couldn’t. And besides you and I are great at pushing each other’s buttons, in good and bad ways, but we clearly aren’t great at communicating. We haven’t talked about what is actually happening between us now. Are we bed buddies or enemies making the best of a bad situation or is this real?”

Somehow that gets her even angrier. "You're right. We haven't talked about it, but this was the perfect reason to talk about it! And you opted to shut me out. And I've been walking around for days thinking I did something. You've been distant. You've been borderline cold and you haven't touched me so when that picture of you and Gabby showed up on the Puck Bunny site…"

“I get it,” I reply. “But why haven’t you said something to me? If I hadn’t gone to see the specialist, I would have gone to Silver Bay, to be there for you, but you didn’t ask me to.”

“Liv didn’t ask Crew but he showed up!” Tenley counters angrily and reaches for a pillow from her previous attack. She whacks the side of my arm with it. “I dare you to be more like your brother.”

“I dare you to be more like your cousin,” I bark back. “Liv forgave Crew his fuck up. She doesn’t expect him to be perfect.”

“You’re not perfect, you’re a damn robot!” she yells. “Robots don’t have feelings so why would I ever think you would, Nash-Hole?”

“Well joke’s on you, Tenley Garrison, because I do have feelings for you,” I yell back. “I’m falling in love with your stubborn, infuriating ass!”

We stare at each other. "Well, then I dare you to prove it. Kiss me or something, Nash-Hole."

“You and your stupid, childish, asinine…” I step into her, cup the back of her head, and do just that, my tongue sweeping into her mouth greedily, to not only show her how I feel but shut her the hell up.

It works and she’s kissing me back not a second later. After ten minutes of standing in her living room making out, I finally pull away. Her hair is coming out of the ponytail and sticking up in odd places. Her cheeks are pink and her chin chafed from my gnarly playoff beard. I stare down at her, run a thumb over her lips, and gruffly demand, “I dare you to tell me if you feel the same.”

“I fell so hard for you I should probably have worn a parachute.”

“Thank God.” I sigh in relief and kiss her again. “Now prove it. I dare you.”

“Nash,” she says, her voice suddenly serious. “You just told me you might have cancer. Shouldn’t we talk about it?”

“Not having make-up sex is going to help how?” I lift an eyebrow and wait for a response I am one hundred and ten percent positive won’t come. And it doesn’t so I flash her a cheeky smile and add, “Come on. I dare you to have make-up sex with me.”

“Nash, we should talk about it.”

“Cool.” I let her go and step back. “I win.”

“Oh hell no.” She grabs my hand and starts dragging me toward the bedroom.

I try not to gloat.

Minutes later we’re naked lying on her bed and our hands are exploring each other with a tenderness I wasn’t expecting after our little yelling match. But this is who we are, as a couple, we are the unexpected. We’re fire and ice. We’re dark and light. We’re yin and yang, snark and spice. We’re polar opposites that, despite our best efforts fighting it, belong together.

I stay close as I slide in and out of her, making sure my lips are never far from hers. We’re both really close, really fast and I don’t even care. She hooks her ankles behind my back and slides her fingers into my hair and I kiss her until I can’t breathe.

“Nash, I…” Her back arches and anything else she was going to say just becomes a moan.

Her body tightens around me and gets slicker and hotter and I slow my pace, teasing myself. Trying to make it last but it doesn’t. I come a mere moment after her, collapsing on her and burying my face in her hair on the pillow.

We stay like that for a long time, almost drifting off, but finally, I roll over as the dull ache in my leg pushes through the euphoric afterglow. "Do you have any Advil or Celebrex by any chance?"

“I think there’s Tylenol in the bathroom.”

“It’ll do.” I start to push back the covers but she stops me and climbs out of bed.

“I’ll get it. You were limping pretty hard when you broke in.”

“Maybe because I was being assaulted with pillows and almost tased by a flashlight?” I say and she laughs breathlessly. “Seriously, how do you own a flashlight that can taser people?”

“I have never actually used it on anyone,” Tenley explains as she throws on my dress shirt and wanders out the open bedroom door and down the short hallway to the bathroom. “I bought it at my favorite spy store in the valley.”

“Who has a favorite spy store?” I mutter.

“A person with a minor in criminology and a cousin who was mugged just a few months ago,” Tenley says, and I remember the story of what I heard happened to Liv.

Tenley walks back into the tiny bedroom with a couple of Tylenol tablets and a small glass of tap water. I sit up in bed and take them from her, downing them and sipping the water as she crawls back in. I put the glass down and raise a hand to her as if to stop her. “This is a clothes-free zone. Gonna have to get naked again.”

Tenley smiles. “It’s my bed. I make the rules.”

“I’m a guest in your home.”

“You’re lucky I’m feeling hospitable,” she quips and unbuttons the three buttons on my shirt she bothered to do up. Once it hangs open she reaches out and takes my hand.

I watch wordlessly as she lifts it and presses my palm against her pert, round breast. My blood heats and my heart gallops. She feels decadent against my palm and I clench my jaw to keep from squeezing her. Instead, I ever-so-gently brush my thumb across her nipple. She shivers, makes a little sound, and then softly pushes my hand away. She leans in and kisses me. "It's not you, it's me."

“I know,” I whisper back. “I don’t take it personally.”

I kiss her again and push my shirt off her shoulders, pulling her into me. She slips under the duvet and curls up against me, her head on my shoulder, her left leg over my thighs. We stay like that in silence for so long I think she might have fallen asleep, but then she whispers, “It’s not going to be cancer.”

“I agree.”

“But if it is, I’m not going anywhere.”

I brush my lips across her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know if that’s a promise or a threat.”

She giggles against my chest. “Probably both.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I murmur.