Page 24

24

LACEY

“Whoa. What the hell?”

“What?”

I just opened the envelope that has my Vegas apartment as the return address and now hold in my hands a check for a thousand dollars.

I show it to Taylor. “From Chris.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.” I shake my head. “Where did he get this money? Oh jeez.” My stomach cramps. “He must be still gambling.”

She makes a face, looking anxious.

“Ugh. Where’s my phone? I have to call him. Even though he probably won’t answer.” I tap his number in my contacts and it rings. To my surprise, he answers. “Hey, Lace.”

“Chris.” I hesitate. I’m so surprised he answered, and so happy to hear his voice my heart squeezes. “How are you?”

“Not bad. How are you?”

“Okay. I, uh, got your check today in the mail.”

“Oh. Good.” I hesitate. “Chris ... where did you get the money?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it. Or win it. I earned it.” He pauses. “I got a job.”

“Uuuh ... wow. That’s great.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a crap job, but the pay is pretty good. I’m working for a filter manufacturer, doing assembly work.”

I don’t even know what to say. “That’s awesome, Chris.”

“So I sent you that. I know it doesn’t repay you for everything you did, but ... it’s a start.”

“You don’t have to repay me.” I suck in a quick breath and let it out. I said that automatically, but maybe I shouldn’t be so forgiving. It’s hard though, especially when he’s making an effort.

“I probably can’t pay you back everything,” he says. “But part of the program is trying to make amends.”

“Program?” I meet Taylor’s eyes which are curious but soft. I sit down at the dining table.

“I’m going to a gambling addiction program. It’s like Alcoholics Anonymous.”

“Oh. Chris.” I close my eyes as tears sting them, my throat constricting. “I’m so glad.”

“I’m sorry for all the shit I caused. And I’m really sorry for using you to try to appease those fucking criminals.”

“Have you ... dealt with them?”

“Um, yeah. I now have a large loan at the bank, but I’m out of debt. I had to get a job first before they’d give me a loan, and it’ll take a while to repay it. Sometimes it feels like it’ll take forever.” He gives a harsh chuckle. “But I just need to focus on right now.”

“Yeah.” I want to offer to help, but I fight back the words. He needs to do this himself.

“You said you’d come back when I got my shit together. But ... you’re married now. Your dude seems like a straight-up guy.”

I cock my head. “What? How do you know?”

“He came to see me the other day.”

My lungs compress painfully and I can’t breathe. “He did?”

“Yeah. He was tough, but it’s okay. He’s looking out for you. You totally deserve someone like that, Lace.”

I blink rapidly, my eyes prickling again. “Well, it’s not what it seems, actually.” I don’t really want to tell him the whole story right now.

I’m so hurt by Théo’s silence and refusal to talk about what happened. I know he has to focus on business. The draft is a big thing and he has all kinds of meetings, plus he was sitting in a hockey arena last night for the first picks and again all day today. I watched it on TV, anxiously looking for any glimpse of him, then staring at the TV when he got up on the stage to make their picks, so proud of him and impressed and admiring. But he could take a minute just to message me back. I’ve told him the truth about what happened and if he doesn’t believe me ...

He doesn’t believe me.

I guess that’s pretty obvious from his silence.

Well, fuck him then.

My chest aches and pressure burns behind my eyes and cheekbones. I draw air into my lungs, slowly, shakily, and expel it out. “I’m coming home,” I whisper to Chris.

Taylor’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “What?” she mouths.

“What?” Chris says.

“I’m coming home.” I say it louder. Stronger.

“What about your husband?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I’m there. I’ll text you when I know when I’ll arrive.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Are you okay, Lace?”

“Sure! I’ll s-see you soon.” I end the call.

“What are you doing?” Taylor demands.

I sigh. “Théo’s pissed at me and apparently not speaking to me.”

“Uh ... why? Did you leave the lid off the toothpaste again?”

“Ha ha. No.” I tell her the story of what happened when he came home from Vegas. “He’s such an idiot.”

“Uh, yeah. How could he think that?”

“Déjà vu, I guess.” I shake my head. “I’ve texted him and left voicemails for him and he’s not answering. Clearly he doesn’t believe me and I’m not staying with someone who doesn’t trust me.”

“No.” Taylor shakes her head. “No, you’re not leaving.”

“I am.” My voice is thready. “I can’t stay here if Théo really thinks I would cheat on him with his brother.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“Tell him that.” I’m already looking up flights. This money Chris sent me will come in handy. I can leave tomorrow morning and be back in Vegas by noon. Perfect. “He’s the one who won’t talk.”

“At least wait till he gets home.” She flattens her hands on the table and leans forward.

I shake my head, my heart heavy and hurt. “No. I can’t do this anymore. I love him.” My voice fractures. I close my eyes. A fist squeezes my throat while another one twists my guts up painfully. “I shouldn’t have let myself fall for him, but I did. I knew I needed to look out for myself. Nobody else will. So that’s what I’m doing.” I lift my chin. “Chris seems to be turning things around. I don’t need to hide here anymore. I can go home and go back to my regular life and ...” My regular life wasn’t all that great, to be honest. There’s so much I’m going to miss from here ... the ocean, the beach, the people. Especially Taylor and Everly. And Byron. “And start again.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Taylor whispers, her eyes shiny.

I reach across to grab her hands. “I’m going to miss you too.”

* * *

THéO

The moment when I announce our first draft pick up on the stage in the Rogers Arena in Vancouver is an emotional one—of course it brings back memories of that day not so long ago when it was my name being called, me getting up there on the stage and pulling on the Penguins jersey, me with my whole hockey life ahead of me.

It hasn’t turned out how I envisioned it that day, but it’s still been pretty damn fantastic. I love this sport. And I’m thrilled to be picking Edvin Rintala from Finland on behalf of the California Condors. This kid is amazing and has the potential to be a marquee player.

I’m having a helluva time focusing on business, but since that’s all I have, I better fucking do it. Succeeding at this job, managing this team, turning it from a losing team into a winner and a moneymaker ... that’s all I have. All I am. The numbers guy. I have to be the best numbers guy ... or I’m nothing.

I’m working on autopilot. In Vegas, the NHL and the NHLPA announced the salary cap for next season, which will be five million dollars higher than this season. That helps us some ... but not enough. We need some depth players and we need them now. Luckily with all our preparation and with a good team here with me, we acquire some outstanding prospects and trade one of our players we knew we couldn’t keep for another second-round pick, which results in getting a player the scouts all think will have excellent value down the road for us.

I ignore Lacey’s messages. She keeps sending them.

I know she wasn’t screwing around with my brother. That would be too improbable. What are the chances that would happen to me twice? Like, a thousand to one odds. I don’t even know the statistical likelihood of that.

But it did totally freak me out, seeing them together. A hot wave of jealousy hit me, all the feelings I’d had when I walked in on JP and Emma that day roaring back, making me want to puke. I’d lost my shit and stormed out, and when I’d calmed down and thought about it logically, I believed what Lacey tells me in her endless messages. But ... anytime I trust someone or believe in something, I get shit on. I’m not going there again.

I knew Lacey wasn’t going to be around forever, but I was getting crazy, stupid ideas about love and keeping her here and having something good and beautiful and joyful in my life. Something other than the work that I used to distract myself from the fact that I didn’t have much else going on in my life. I thought that was what I wanted. Then I started wanting more. But I know better than that.

I keep telling myself this all weekend. When I board the plane back to LAX on Monday morning, I can feel satisfied with a job well done.

Except I feel like I’ve been used as a target in the net for shooting practice, my entire body bruised and beat up.

Now I have to deal with things at home. I’m looking forward to that as much I’d look forward to blocking an Ovechkin slap shot. My gut cramps with dread the entire flight. I try to ease the pain with whiskey. The flirty flight attendant is happy to keep refilling my glass, but I need to ease up because I have to drive home from the airport.

I have no idea if Lacey works today; I know she doesn’t have a class on Mondays. But the condo is empty when I walk in. I’m both disappointed and relieved. Much as I don’t want to admit it, I want to see her again. I missed her. Again. Yet I’m relieved that I don’t have to have the conversation I’ve been planning in my head. I even made notes on my laptop, for Chrissake, so I’d know what to say.

I haul my suitcase and garment bag with my suits upstairs and unpack. I carry my toiletry bag into the bathroom and set it on the vanity. I look around. The bathroom is unusually neat and tidy. Lately every time I walk in here, Lacey’s girl stuff is all over the place—hair products, moisturizers, shower gel that smells like her ... apples and flowers ...

It’s all gone.

I frown. My chest seizes up. I whip open the drawers of the vanity and doors of the medicine cabinet.

Her stuff is gone.

For a moment, I can’t move. Can’t think.

Then I pound downstairs and rocket into her bedroom. I skid to a halt. It’s empty too.

There is nothing of Lacey left in this room. The closet is empty. The bathroom is bare as well.

My lungs deflate, leaving me winded. What. The. Fuck.

I stumble through the condo. Her flip-flops aren’t sitting by the door onto the patio. Her magazines and knitting aren’t cluttering up the coffee table.

She’s gone.

Okay. Okay. Why am I freaking the fuck out when I was going to have a conversation where I gently suggested that we’d get a divorce and she’d move out. I could help her find an apartment, if she’s not ready to go back to Vegas. I was dreading that conversation. I should feel thankful I don’t have to do it. She made the decision on her own.

For some reason though, there’s a burning in my gut, spreading up into my chest.

I need to ignore it.

It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. I rub my chest. Maybe I need to take a pill.

A thought bursts into my mind. What if ... those douchehole bookies came here and got her?

No. They couldn’t find her here.

Could they?

Now panic rushes through me, scalding my veins. Calm down, dickhead. Calm down.

I grab my phone and fire off a text to her.

Where the hell are you? Are you okay?

It strikes me that she very well may not answer, given that I ignored her messages the last few days. But Lacey isn’t a petty person. She doesn’t play games. She says what she’s thinking. And her reply comes quickly.

U have a lot of nerve texting me and asking me that when u wouldn’t answer MY texts. Asshole.

I want to hit the button that will call her number and talk to her, but Christ, she’s right. I am an asshole.

You’re right. Where are you?

I’m in Vegas, asshole. Home. I’m fine.

Vegas? Jesus! I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. I tap in another message.

Just wanted to make sure you’re safe.

Thanks for your belated concern. I want a divorce.

Well. That’s exactly what I was going to suggest. A burn hits my chest again, and pressure builds inside me, all the way up into my head. My temples throb.

I can’t move. I don’t know how long I stand there staring at my phone, not even seeing it. It feels like the condo fades away around me, and I’m standing in shadows. I swallow past the hockey puck lodged in my throat and tap in another message.

Of course.

Then I add,

I’m sorry.

I watch my phone for a long time, but nothing more from Lacey comes.