Page 34 of The Alternate Captain (Elite Hockey #3)

This has to be the wildest thing I’ve ever done.

Literally.

I rack my brain for anything that’d come close to this, but I think this is actually it; travelling for over half a day to get to Johnny’s mother’s place all the way on a completely different continent.

I’ve never been outside of Europe before and here I am, in Canada, for Christmas.

As soon as I saw the mountains—the mountains that are everywhere I look—I knew I’d made the right decision to sack off the holidays at my parents’ house, because it’s like nothing I’ve seen before. British Columbia makes the mountains back home look like molehills.

Johnny’s mother’s house is right on the edge of the mountains, and it’s so beautiful, I want to cry. It’s comprised of expansive rooms with a log cabin feel I want to tell everyone about. Except, the only person I can tell is Tom, because he’s covering for me .

“Why the hell did you pick Britain over this?” I ask, gazing out of his old bedroom window. The scene outside is, of course, the mountains, and countless fir and spruce trees.

Johnny moves behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders, finding my neck with his lips.

“I’d never have met you if I didn’t. I think the logic works out.”

I turn around and study his face. His handsome face that I think I’ve fallen in love with—even though we’re not talking about the ‘L’ bomb I dropped during sex weeks ago; Johnny hasn’t brought it up, and nor have I.

“Speaking of home, we need to carry on like we’re on UK time. Trust me. It’ll make returning a load easier.”

I welcome the notion, because I’m ready to pass out from exhaustion.

The first thing we did once we got here was take showers. Then Johnny ordered in some food, and I’ve been fighting the fatigue ever since.

Nevertheless, I do agree with him, because neither of us has time to adjust back to UK time once we get home, so pushing another hour and setting an alarm to wake up at ‘normal’ time tomorrow is probably the best idea.

When we finally climb into his bed, he pulls me close, settling on a steady rhythm of stroking my arm while we lie in silence.

My eyes droop closed almost immediately, because I’m tired, I’m really fucking tired. But my head is reeling, and there’s only one topic on my mind.

The more I try to push my thoughts away, the harder they root themselves in. And when I try my countdown from one hundred, I get through it twice before Johnny’s voice breaks the silence.

“I can hear you thinking,” he says.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do you want to talk about it? ”

He shifts in bed, turning towards me. Though I can’t see him properly, I can make out the outline of his face.

“I’m just worried about telling Mike,” I say.

It’s all I’ve been thinking about, if I’m being honest. Ever since that close call in my bedroom, I’ve been worrying how he’ll react when we tell him. At least I think it’ll be a ‘we’ thing, anyway.

“I understand. But please, try not to worry. I’ll talk to him, and he’ll understand.”

“Will he, John? Because I’m not sure.”

Johnny says nothing. Instead, he reaches for my cheek and pulls my face towards him, dropping his lips onto mine.

“If he doesn’t, then I’ll do all I can to convince him we’re a good idea.”

My heart dances through my chest, because that’s been another thing on my mind—the unrequited ‘L’ word I said.

He hasn’t even mentioned it, and since I know it’s probably unlikely that he’s there yet, I don’t mention it either.

“I think it should be me,” I say. “I should be the one to tell him.”

Johnny sucks in a breath. “I actually don’t agree. I think it needs to come from me.”

“But he’ll be furious with me—for keeping this to myself.”

“Yeah, and he’ll be furious with me, but at least I can hold my own.”

“He wouldn’t attack me, though,” I say.

My thought process follows the rationale that Johnny will have broken legs by the end of the interaction, whereas I’ll probably end up in tears—which is fixable.

“It’ll be fine, babe. Leave your brother to me.”

I roll over and snuggle into the pillow, hoping that Johnny is right. Because what’s the alternative?

“Kelly?”

“Yeah?”

“I should probably tell you something,” Johnny says .

I flip onto my other side and gaze towards him in the darkness. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. But I just wanted you to know I told Sarah I wasn’t going to give her any money.”

I extend my arm, searching for his hand in the dark.

Before we were due to board our flight, Sarah texted him and asked if he’d made a decision. She gave him an ultimatum: either he pay up, or she’d go to the local media about him—alluding that he’s a liar and has fathered a child he wants nothing to do with.

Johnny had laughed out loud when he read the message, but I could tell it was playing on his mind. Instead of the chirpy Johnny I’d become accustomed to, he was back to his old ways of short answers and sharp attitude.

But I let him be. I gave him time to think and to stew over it.

And rather than try to influence his decision, I held back, knowing that he’d do what was right for him—and I’d support him no matter what.

Even if I didn’t agree with his decision.

Besides, he knew what I thought. I didn’t need to remind him.

“And there’s a good chance my dad will show up and kick up a fuss. I’ve told him I want nothing more to do with him, either.” Johnny rolls onto his back. “Out with the crap, Kelly. Out with the crap.”

“So that’s it then?” I ask, tucking myself into the crease of his deltoid.

“Yep. Both Vicky and I. Cutting the rope. He can go fuck himself for all I care.”