Page 36

CHAPTER 35

ALEXEI

I get a weird cramp in the warm-ups for our first game on this road trip, so I’m pulled and the net is given to the back-up goalie. We lose, although he does a good job and holds it to a one-goal difference.

Once we get back to the hotel, Dr. Forge checks on me and decides I need an IV infusion. I’m sitting in the conference room the team is using, my left arm hooked up, chatting with him about my mom’s recovery, when I get a text message from Emery.

I tap into it immediately out of habit—and immediately flip my hand down, because there’s a photo.

“Sorry, could you give me a moment,” I say to Grant. “Message from home.”

“Yeah, sure.” He checks the hanging IV bag. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

I wait until he’s out of the room, then look again—and I groan.

Emery is in the pantry, reading the book I ordered for her, eating a chocolate I sent her…and she’s not wearing a top.

Her chest is flushed, pink stain spilling onto her pointy, perfect tits. I want to devour her whole.

I stroke the screen for a moment, wishing I was more alone than I am right now, and then I tap the screen.

“You naughty girl,” I growl when she answers.

She giggles in my ear.

“I am not alone for very long.” I drag in a frustrated breath. “I’m hooked up to an IV, and I have a hard-on. Are you happy?”

“Alexei!” Her tone shifts abruptly. Concern floods her voice. “Why do you have an IV?”

“It’s just a precaution. Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“I’m literally putting my shirt back on.”

“No, no, that’s not what I need right now.” I’m laughing. “Please, sunshine. I loved the photo. Send me more, but give me twenty minutes. All right?”

“You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.” And there’s so much sweetness in that one word, I’m going to have to send her books and chocolates every day for the rest of time.

* * *

I rebound, health-wise, but my winning streak ends in the next game. Two sniping goals get past me and we just can’t respond.

I get mad in the third period and draw a penalty that someone else has to serve for me. We kill that off, and I keep the goals against just to the two, but it’s…not great.

“Are the vibes off?” Dodaj asks as we undress.

I don’t respond.

One of the assistant coaches sticks his head into the visitors dressing room. “Arty, there will be media questions for you.”

Again? Fuck my life.

The team is pretty good about spreading out who gets tapped for media availability, but given my streak, I guess I can’t get out of this.

I grunt and nod.

And so it goes.

We win the third game, thank fuck. I get into another scuffle, but this time I don’t draw a penalty, because it’s a bit of a melee and the refs call it a draw. Someone rips my jersey, which is a great excuse to pop them in the helmet with my blocker.

“I think you liked that,” Smash says as we’re separated from our opponents.

I laugh. “Of course.”

“Good.”

And that feels like playoff hockey. We need to hold on to that.

After that win, which we wore our retro jerseys for, I ask the equipment team if I can have my jersey to take home. I need the reminder that even rocky stretches can have some bright moments.

* * *

But overarching the entire trip is an unusual weight.

I miss my girls.

While we’ve talked a few times every day, I don’t feel like Emery and I have talked in a solid week.

Maybe that’s why the vibes are off.

After a team dinner at our final hotel the night before our final game on the road, where the food isn’t half as good as what Emery makes, I head back to my room, with my laundered jersey in a bag from the equipment guys.

There’s a card game going on down the hall, but I said I needed to call home, and I meant it. There’s only one person whose company I want tonight.

This close to the playoffs, I know the right answer is to spend time with the team. But we’ll reset and try again in a few days. Right now, I need to focus on the home vibes.

I prop a pillow against the headboard and stretch my legs out. My pulse kicks up as the screen rings, which is fucking stupid. I know she’ll answer. She always does.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Hey.” Her voice is low. Soft. Home.

She’s sitting on the couch, and as she shifts to get more comfortable, I see there’s a pile of toys beside her. She’s wearing one of my sweatshirts, the sight of which gives me a nice possessive punch in the chest, and her hair is up in two messy little pigtails on top of her head.

“You’re awake,” I say, because the other things I want to say aren’t allowed if anyone else is in the room with her. You’re gorgeous. I miss you. I need to kiss every inch of you again .

She gives me a lopsided smile. “I am.”

“I got you a present.”

Her eyebrows curve up in curiosity. “You did?”

I grin. “Yeah. Okay, might also be a present for me, too.”

She winks. God damn, I miss her.

“How was bedtime?”

“Easy peasy. She’s happy she can play with your parents again. We all walked to the park today, and she really tired herself out. Your mom did, too, but in a good way.”

“Anyone else still up?” My voice dips low. I’m pretty sure she’s all alone, but I want her to say it.

“Nope. Everyone here is tucked in for the night.”

I exhale, relief coursing through me. “Everyone except you. Who’s going to tuck in Emery?”

Heat pops in her cheeks, and her lips darken, too. She’s turned on, and I know it, and I can’t push those buttons too hard, but pushing her buttons is all I can think about.

Silence stretches as she looks at me through the phone. My pulse grows heavy.

And then she licks her lips. “I was hoping you would.”

Fuck yeah. “Take me to bed with you, sunshine.”

She gestures as the mess around her. “I was just tidying up.”

“Okay. Tell me about your day while you do that.”

She sets her phone down and disappears, but she keeps talking. “I’ve been researching childcare options, actually.”

“What?”

She reappears and gives me a nervous smile. “The EBUB program doesn’t last forever.”

I try not to scowl. “I know.”

“Umm, so today’s research was for like, next year maybe. Did you know that preschool registration is actually kind of competitive?”

“I did not.”

“Same.” She finishes moving the toys to their bins, and picks up the phone again. “So yeah, Charlie just got off a waiting list for a program, and Becca was mentioning how it took her a while. And I was thinking about your dad…”

She goes quiet as she climbs the stairs.

She checks on Inessa, quietly showing me that my daughter is fast asleep, then steps back into the hallway.

“Go to my room,” I say quietly.

She crooks an eyebrow at the camera. “Yeah?”

I want her on my bed.

I want her underneath me, but that’s going to have to wait one more night.

As she walks down the hall, I’m struck again by that profound sense of rightness that she’s in my space.

Once she clicks my door shut, I drag my mind out of where it wants to go—her tits, her mouth, her soft, soft pussy—and back to the conversation she started.

“You were saying something about my dad…”

“Right. Um, I think another option, rather than a nanny, might be enrolling Inessa in daycare.”

“Daycare?” I’m confused where this is coming from. “She’s too young, don’t you think?”

Emery settles on my bed, her blonde waves spilling over my pillow, exactly as I’ve dreamed of. Her eyes are bright, and her words spill out fast and furious. “I don’t, actually. She loves spending time with Charlie, who is older than her. I bet socializing with other kids more often would be good for her, too. And your dad could manage the daycare drop-off and pick-up on the days that you aren’t home.”

It’s a lot to think about. “What brought this up? Why did you do this research?”

“Because it needs to be done. And you’re focused on the season.”

“I am still her father.”

“I know. I’m not making any decisions for you.” She gets a funny look on her face. “Are you mad about this?”

“No.” I scrub my hand over my jaw, trying to get my thoughts clear. I don’t know why you care about next year , is my first thought, but I can’t say that.

If I’m going to ask her what she sees in the future, I’m going to do it in person.

“Moya polovinka, tell me. It’s okay, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting this conversation. Tell me what you think. I want to hear all about it.”

She rolls onto her side, her phone coming closer to her face. “She sleeps so much better when she’s spent the day playing with another kid.”

Oh. Fuck me. “Okay. Thank you for telling me that.”

“I know I can go kind of all in on an idea, but I just get curious about things.”

“I like your curiosity.” I slide down and roll onto my side, too. Now it’s like we’re lying side by side in bed, heads on pillows next to each other. “Did you read more of that book today?”

“Yeah, a bit. It’s really interesting.”

“Do you want me to send you another one tomorrow? I think there’s still time to order tonight.”

She laughs and shakes her head.

“How’s your chocolate supply?”

She reaches for the screen, her expression softening. “I’m savouring them. They’re so good. Well, some are weird. But I like weird stuff.”

“I know. I love that.”

Silence stretches. A funny smile plays at her mouth.

“So…”

She nods. “So…”

“I need to tuck you in.” There’s a strange lump in my throat. I wanted her in my bed so I could talk her through making herself come, but now I want something else. “Crawl under the blankets.”

That smile quirks as she does what I tell her.

“I want to find you just like that when I get home,” I say. “I want to come home and wrap myself around you. When I saw you in the hospital that night, and you were so…”

Her eyebrows curve up. “Yes?”

“You were fiery. You were perfect. And I was so tired. I knew I needed to sleep, and I knew it would be hard to rest, but I also knew that if I could just drag you in against me, I would sleep better than I had in two long years.”

Her lips part.

Her eyes flash.

Fiery, but soft.

Mine .

“You don’t have to say anything like that to me, ever. But I want you to know.” My voice catches. “I want you to always know, no matter what, that you have that effect on me. Even when you’re mad at me.”

She relaxes into her pillow and nods. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve given me this week. And that’s a very high bar given the weird chocolates.”

I tip my head back and laugh.

When I look back at the camera, Emery is gazing at me with a completely bare, vulnerable stare. And I can’t tell her what I see there, but it’s an incredible gift, too.

“Good night, moya polovinka.”

“What does that mean?” She smiles sleepily. “You’ve stopped calling me solnishko.”

“No, never. I think I just call you sunshine in English now.”

“I need to learn Russian.”

“When I get home, I’ll teach you.”

I’ll whisper it against her skin until she knows it by heart.