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Chapter Thirty-Two

Lars

I barely got a wink of sleep. Vicki finally left at just after midnight, after several hints that a baby needs both parents, and she wasn’t just talking about co-parenting. She had to know I wasn’t interested in her, no matter our connection in Mabel.

Adeline had texted last night.

Dinner outside. Talk soon.

My sweet thing was still looking after me.

To show how mature I was being, I even allowed Vicki to share.

A family meal. Feeling even more magnanimous, I didn’t get overly possessive with Mabel.

I was too interested in watching how Vicki acted around her.

I could tell she’d missed her daughter, though the fact she chose her fuckface husband over our little precious still got me all riled up.

But then I wouldn’t have had her all to myself and I wouldn’t have needed Adeline to take care of her and— fuck .

Vicki’s selfishness had gifted me Adeline. And look what I did with that. I was glad when she left, when it was just me and Mabel.

But our third musketeer was in the wind. I missed Adeline like crazy, but before I could fix things with her, I had to sort out my relationship with Theo.

Janet was taking the holiday weekend off, so I was in a bind for childcare during the Thanksgiving Friday game. I’d burned my bridges with the Kershaws, so I moved down the phone tree to Tara, who had heard about the drama and was still thrilled to babysit.

Then I headed to the locker room.

Word of my transgression had obviously reached the team. Of course they would all be on their captain’s side. I expected nothing less. I got a few curt nods before the air chilled with Theo’s arrival.

He headed right to his cubby without looking my way. I wasn’t going to avoid this, or him, and we needed to reconcile before the game. I was thankful Hatch was on IR, spending it in the press box, because I really did not want to have to tackle them both.

I walked over and leaned against the neighboring cubby. “Is Adeline okay?”

He looked straight ahead. “I don’t want to hear my daughter’s name out of your mouth.”

“I just need to know she’s okay.”

“She’s my daughter and I love her. Of course she’s okay.” He snapped his gaze to mine. “Or maybe you think she’s upset because she knows how much you used her?”

I could easily think that, but I couldn’t imagine Adeline sharing that opinion with her dad. “Where’s that coming from?”

“God, you’re something else.” And then he shoved me.

“Guys!” Boden yelled, his voice high-pitched with panic.

“I get that you’re pissed at me, T.”

“Oh, you do, do ya? You’ve been jerking my girl around for weeks, maybe months, I dunno! And if that wasn’t bad enough, as soon as you get a shot, you’re back with your baby mama.”

Shock coursed through me. “What? Where’d you hear that?”

“From the woman herself. She’s all over social media with pics of you holding your kid. And it was the same onesie Button was wearing yesterday—I recognize it because I bought it for her, you dick . So the minute you bail on my daughter, you head back to this other chick.”

Another shove. Last night, Vicki had taken photos of Mabel, some of them with me in the frame. Planting her flag now that her marriage had failed. I was too tired to police it.

“I’m not going to fight you.”

“No?” He pushed again, hard, forcing me to choose between standing my ground and stepping back. I chose retreat.

Dash Carter slid between us, as smooth as a figure skater.

“In case you ladies haven’t realized, the puck drops in less than forty minutes.”

Theo shook himself back to reality, the one where the captain had to be the bigger person. I hated that for him—I truly deserved to be smacked hard—but I also wanted to get our frustrations out on the opposing team instead of each other.

Usually, Theo would give a pre-game pep talk, but tonight, nada.

For the first time ever, I wished Coach would put me on the same line as MacFarlane because I wasn’t sure Theo and I had what it took to overcome this hump.

I prayed his professionalism would outweigh his need to avenge his daughter’s honor.

For most of the first period, we ignored our problem and worked our asses off.

Every time Coach put us in, we hopped that wall, assumed the positions, and let muscle memory take over.

Skating as partners for almost five years, our innate fluidity did a lot of heavy lifting.

When I was out of position, Theo was there.

When he got pinned back, I took over. One crucial difference, though: each time we returned to the bench, someone sat between us.

The guys were taking turns to chaperone us.

Still scoreless, we had three minutes to go in the first period, and Coach was about to send the D-Man Dream Team back in.

“What’s going on with you two?”

Theo merely scowled, so I spoke for us both. “Nothing, Coach.”

Coach divided a glance between us, then landed on Cody Jacobs who was the current designated driver in the babysitting rotation. “Care to comment?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Coach.”

Coach shook his head in disgust. “Right, get in there. Let’s make something happen.”

This time when I cleared the wall, Theo shoulder-checked me. If that was his worst, I was getting off easy.

It was not his worst.

Thirty seconds into the shift, he was slashed by Ranally, the Hawks center, and I did what I always did when an opposing player high-sticked or slashed my partner and I was within range. I checked that fucker and slammed him against the boards.

“Don’t need your help.” Theo bumped me on the way back to his position.

“Don’t care, you got it.”

He skated back over. “I said?—”

“Heard what you said, but we’re still a team here, so you’re getting my help whether you want it or not.”

My best friend in all the world came right at me. “Adeline said it wasn’t a big deal—only a fling, she said. But I know my girl. You hurt her. You broke her heart.”

“I need to talk to her?—”

“Over my dead body.” At which point all hell broke loose and the gloves came off.

The first blow landed clean because I removed my lid to let him at me. I took that punch. And the next. I had hurt Adeline, and I deserved everything coming my way.

No one was stepping in. Hell, not even me. Let him whale on me and enjoy his vengeance. Flabbergasted by this turn of events, the crowd lapsed into silence. Even the zebras were stunned.

One of the most revered partnerships in hockey was breaking down right before their eyes.

The next punch broke my nose. Crunch. Seeing first blood, the crowd came to life and my teammates decided it was time to step in just as Theo got off another haymaker. Jacobs and Bell pulled him off me. I needed to speak before blood filled my throat and words were no longer possible.

“Ith-wanneth-a-flinth!”

Still restrained, Theo yelled back at me. “What the fuck did you say?”

I held the bridge of my nose—damn, that hurt—and snorted out a spurt of blood that made the crowd go, “Ooooh!”

“I said ‘It wasn’t a fling!’”

“You liar. You fucking liar.” And then more curious than pissed, “What does that even mean?”

“For Christ’s sake, Kershaw, I love her!”

Gasps all around. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the latest episode of Real Housewives on Ice .

The ref finally rolled up. Veteran Johnny “Gally” Gallagher had officiated all manner of rumbles, including that one game twenty-five years ago when Cajun legend Remy DuPre beat the shit out of the asshole who had once struck his future wife, our CEO and Rebel queen, Harper Chase-DuPre.

Gally pointed at me. “Off! You need a medic. And Theo, you’re out.”

“Yeah, I’m headed to the sin bin now,” he muttered as he defiantly shrugged off his teammates’ grip.

Gally looked uncomfortable. “No, you’re out of the game.”

Theo threw up his blood-covered hands. “You’re ejecting me?”

Fuck. This could not get worse.