Page 63

Sixty-Three

RHODES

Coach Jacobs slaps me on the shoulder as he stands behind me on the bench. “I’ve never seen you in the penalty box this much. What the fuck is going on?”

I flex my jaw.

I’m pissed. Obviously.

“His good luck charm is gone,” Coach Tarvo mutters.

Kane stiffens beside me, and Malaki mumbles something that I can’t hear over my heartbeat in my ears.

Coach Tarvo has been on my shit list since he got here.

Day four with him, and I swear to god, he has it out for me, like he’s just trying to get under my skin.

“How about you do your fucking job and help our offense instead of worrying about my personal life?” I look him dead in the eye and could strangle him.

He’s probably the one who stuck the sun sticker on my locker too—for “ good luck.” None of the guys fessed up to it, not that I thought they would after I snapped my stick in half and threatened the entire team.

When I came back for the second intermission, the sticker was gone.

I didn’t find it funny.

Tarvo smirks from down the line and looks back out onto the ice.

Crew comes flying toward the bench, and I stand at full height to replace him.

I skate with vigilant speed, knocking opponents down left and right. The other team is off-sides, and I pull my guys in and make a call that goes against Tarvo’s, because the only thing he’s done since getting here is make things worse.

Kane wins the puck drop. It shoots out to the left. Hayes swoops around and chucks it back and forth, teasing the defensemen. Once I sweep behind the net and get into position, I tap the ice, and the puck slides to me. I shoot it over to Malaki, who sends it flying toward the net. It hits the top bar and drops in perfectly.

After skating over to give him a tap on the helmet, I look directly at Tarvo.

He’s glaring at me.

His frustration stays well after the game, following me to the locker room.

I’m setting a shit example by pulling my phone out mid-speech, but to be honest, there are zero fucks left to be given.

Kane snorts from beside me, though I don’t think anyone else notices.

I glance at my notifications, checking on Marco and Ellie, but notice one from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hi. I know this may be really strange, considering you shooed me away from your house a week ago, but I really need to get a hold of Allison Edwards. I’ve tried messaging her, but I can’t seem to get through. I swear I’m not crazy. This is just really important.

My heart skips.

I know exactly who is texting me.

A woman with long blonde hair showed up at the house a week ago and fed me some excuse about needing to talk to me. I immediately threatened to call the police, thinking it was another single woman trying to worm her way into my house like in the past, but now I’m intrigued.

I wait until I’m settled on the bus and in my own seat to message her back.

Me: How do you know Allison?

It feels weird to type Allison instead of Sunny.

Unknown: She used to be my son’s nanny.

A moment later, a photo comes in.

There she is, radiant as ever, with a warm smile on her face. A little boy with dark hair, close to Ellie’s age, is making a silly face beside her, and the same woman that came by the house the other day is in the photo too.

Me: Okay? And?

Did she leave you high and dry too?

Unknown: I just really need to get a hold of her. I can’t seem to get through. It’s about my ex.

Okay, now I’m on edge. Did something happen between Sunny and her ex?

A thought crosses my mind, but I refuse to fall for it. Sunny may have broken her promise to me, but deep down, I know her heart. She is too genuine to be a homewrecker.

Is that what this is about? Is this lady trying to figure out if something happened between her ex and Sunny?

I sigh while typing out my response.

Me: She’s no longer my nanny.

It isn’t until we’re back to the hotel that her message comes through.

Unknown: Do you know where she is or how I can get a hold of her?

I may be pissed at Sunny, but I’m not really up for giving out any of her personal information, especially not when it comes to a crazy ex. I mean, how did she even get my number?

I swipe away her message and lie in bed, willing myself to sleep.

Ellie is safe with Marco, and I played one hell of a game. Yet, it’s the same as every other night with Sunny gone.

I can’t sleep.

I can't do anything but think about her and wonder what exactly made her go so quickly.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Sunny, it’s that she is sensible. She makes logical decisions. She isn’t rash when it comes to any of them.

Besides, maybe…letting me touch her.

I pull up her name and stare at it for so long Emory turns out his light and rolls over to go to sleep.

I’m angry with her, but there’s something in me that can’t let it go.

I quickly type a message and hit send before I can rethink it.

Me: This woman is trying to get a hold of you. Says you used to nanny for her. I haven’t given her any information but thought you should know.

I attach the photo but never get around to sending it because the text bounces back.

Number no longer in service?

My world comes crashing down.

The covers fall to my lap when I sit up quickly in bed.

Panic seizes me. I shake my head with denial.

I refuse to let it be true that Sunny is out of my life for good.

Anger and resentment aside, there is a sliver of hope lingering beneath it all. I’ll be here until the end of time, waiting for her to come back or feed me some explanation as to why she just up and left.

A voice in the back of my head tells me that I should have tried harder to get her to stay. Instead, I put her in the same group that I threw all the other women into, and that wasn’t really fair because she isn’t like them in the slightest.

Pulling up another number, I type something out that seems unhinged, but desperation makes a man do wild things.

Me: I need a favor.

Mel and I are long-time friends, going all the way back to high school. He’s the one I turn to for background checks on the nannies.

SGT Mel: Another background check?

Me: No. But are you able to pull police records? Even if they’re buried?

After I learned that Sunny was attacked, I may have stayed up late one evening andsearched public records for some type of police report. Nothing came up, though.

SGT Mel: Depends on what you mean by buried. Give me the name.

Me: Allison Edwards.

He texts back right away.

SGT Mel: I will send you what I find.

I click my phone off and roll over to my side, knowing very well I won’t be getting any sleep until his text comes in.

I slept like shit, practiced like shit, and we’re playing like shit.

All of us, not just me. Playing on the road is never easy, and it’s even worse when we have a new coach who makes idiot calls and a captain with a bad attitude.

The captain being me.

I try to pull myself together and breathe in and out of my nose.

Ignoring the roaring crowd, Tarvo’s stupid face glares in my direction, and Coach Jacobs’s vein is bulging from stress. I climb back onto the ice.

“We need momentum,” I say to Kane.

He grunts and gets in position for the puck drop.

The clock is ticking down, with only thirty seconds to go in the second period. We’re on a power play, and that means we can really do some damage and hopefully get back on track.

Despite my stomach in knots while waiting for SGT Mel’s text, I have to focus.

At the end of the day, hockey may not be the first thing on my priority list, but Ellie is, and if I didn’t have hockey to ground me and pay the bills, I’m not sure where we’d be.

Malaki connects with the puck after Kane wins the puck drop. I skate with determination and plow down a player in white as we both head for the puck.

Malaki has the momentum we need.

I skate to a halt, knocking another player down. I’m about to be on their shit list, but when the puck slips right between their goalie’s legs, it’s hard to care.

The buzzer sounds, and the team flows into the locker room on a high note.

We’ve taken back the lead, and that’s always a good thing going into the third and final period.

“Good work.” I tap helmets with Malaki and plop down beside Hayes. Emory is the last to enter with his full goalie gear.

Then in comes Coach Jacobs.

Tarvo has stayed away, which I’m not angry about.

His face is the last thing I want to see after being on a high from the last play.

Coach Jacobs gives some words of inspiration and encouragement and then proceeds to go over some new plays he wants to run in the next period.

Kane and I give him some ideas on how to change things up. Being that we’ve been up close and personal with their best players, we see things from a different angle.

After making a few adjustments, we’re due back on the ice.

Per usual, I grab my phone.

I have two messages.

One from Marco, telling me Ellie has fallen asleep.

And the other from SGT Mel.

I fumble with the device and swipe the message open.

It’s a photo of some type of document.

I zoom in, enlarging the tiny font as much as I can.

To the Honorable Court of Washington:

The Petitioner, Allison Edwards , respectfully requests the Court to issue a Temporary Protection Order against the Respondent, Nicholas Tarvo , based on the following facts:

Nature of Relationship: Petitioner was a nanny for the Respondent's child, hired under both parents.

Acts of Abuse/Threats:

Respondent attempted to engage in a sexual manner with petitioner on a number of occasions after petitioner declined such behavior.

Respondent verbally abused petitioner after resignation letter was filed.

Respondent damaged property belonging to the petitioner upon attempting to leave the residence with the child for safety.

Respondent sexually assaulted petitioner after resignation.

Respondent portrayed physical violence, causing petitioner to fear for the child’s safety and her own.

Respondent stalked petitioner from his residence to various outings - i.e., the mother of child’s house when petitioner continued nannying for her until a replacement was found.

Fear of Imminent Harm:

I, Allison Edwards, fear for the safety of Atlas Tarvo and myself due to the threats from Nicholas Tarvo. I have been physically abused by Nicholas Tarvo when trying to leave the residence, and in addition, Nicholas threatened his son to stay quiet regarding the manner, putting him in imminent danger as well. I petition the court for a protection order of all parties involved.

My hand shakes.

I clench my jaw so tightly my head throbs.

There’s no way.

Tarvo .

The locker room has cleared out. I hear the footsteps of someone coming to get me because the period is about to start.

I pray and hope it’s him.

I read over the protection order two more times, hoping my eyes are playing a fucking trick.

But they’re not.

Tarvo isn’t here because of this “amazing opportunity” he was given by Coach Jacobs. He came here in search of Sunny, and the second he found her, she slipped right through my fingers.

The complaints make my blood run cold.

It all makes sense.

Her fear of hospitals, her fear of men, her request to stay out of the media’s limelight. And to think he put her in the position to fear for her safety by stalking her on top of everything else?

My phone falls to the floor when I stand.

I brush past Kane, who must’ve been sent to grab me. He says something, but I can’t hear a word he says.

The hallway opens up, and I turn for the bench. My teammates are on the ice, the ref coming toward them with a puck in hand.

“Where are your gloves? And stick? Get it together, Volkova!”

I move to the side, out of Coach Jacobs’s line of sight. Tarvo is leaning against the glass behind the bench.

The smug fuck.

I’ve never been so angry.

I want to fucking strangle him.

“Hey, Tarvo!” I shout.

The entire team glances down the line at me.

“Atlas is on the phone for you.”

He pops forward. “Atlas? My son?”

An animalistic growl rips through me. That’s all the confirmation I need.

Kane is stalking up the hall behind me. I crack my neck and step onto the ice.

The whistle blows from the team having too many Devils on the ice, but it cancels out when I skate right in front of Tarvo.

His brow is furrowed, that cut on the bridge of his nose looking nearly healed. Too bad for him, I’m going to open it right up.

“Bro, what the fuck are you doing?” Malaki stands from the bench, but he quickly moves out of the way when my ungloved hands grip Tarvo’s stupid fucking tie. I pull him onto the ice with force.

“I know why you’re really here,” I say into his ear, mid-tug. “And I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson on how to treat a woman.”

He tries to hit me first, but I skate backward just in time to land a punch on his jaw before the rest of the team moves toward us.

“Not just any woman.” I grab him around the neck. “But mine.”