Heartless King

by Hughes, Maya

  She licked her way around the cone. Her tongue was proving too much of a temptation, and I readjusted myself as I walked. “It’s never too cold for ice cream. Especially not coffee ice cream with chocolate jimmies. Where are we going anyway?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You’re not going to take me to some sex club, are you?”

  “That’s exactly where I’d want to take my five months-pregnant girlfriend. A sex club.”

  “Damn.”

  I stumbled over her softly spoken word.

  She peered over at me, smiling with ice cream drying on her nose.

  I liked where this was going. “Arrangements can be made. Just say when.”

  “Maybe in a year or so when I’m trying to rediscover my wild side.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  We turned the corner. The marquee ahead of us was lit up with warm, glowing bulbs.

  “We’re here.”

  Looking up from her ice cream, Imo’s eyes widened. She looked from me to the sign and back to me. “Are you serious?” Her ice cream forgotten, she dumped it into the nearest trashcan.

  “James Bay. James Bay is here? In Philly, today?”

  “From the sign it sure looks that way.”

  “Do we have tickets?”

  I pulled the printout of our tickets from my coat pocket.

  “Holy shit. Let’s go.” She pulled the folded pieces of paper out of my hands and dragged me by my coat cuff. Her excitement was infectious and I swore I’d pay for James Bay to fly over from the UK every month if I could keep getting this reaction out of her. A few calls were all it had taken— that, and the promise of a sold out show, even if I needed to buy out every seat on my own. Even with such late notice of this exceptionally late addition to a tour that had been over for months, I’d only had to buy half.

  But watching Imogen sing along to every word was worth all the money. Seeing her giddy and nearly bouncing in her seat after each song finished made everything else fade away. I’d gotten on the ice. I was listening to James Bay with the woman who had made everything possible. And our little one was safe and sound. This was a perfect day.

  I felt untouchable.

  32

  Imo

  The night after Colm’s first skate had been magical. We were front row center with James Bay only a few feet away. After each song break, I’d look over at Colm and that leaden weight of the knowledge I had settled heavier on my chest. What could I say? How could I fix this?

  I didn’t have any more answers the next day at work, and the flipping and kicking had become more pronounced and was no longer mistakable for an upset stomach. “We’ve got an appointment Wednesday afternoon, if that works for you.”

  “Yes, perfect. Thank you.” I ended the call and shoved the phone into my bag. Rushing out of work, I saw that I wasn’t the last to leave for the day. That was a new development. I hopped into my car and headed straight to Colm’s place. For the past week that had been my natural destination. Colm’s house.

  It was crazy that his house was where I wanted to go after work. Sometimes he’d pick me up and we’d go to my place, but it always felt a bit cramped compared to his. Plus, his kitchen was much better, and wow, did he ever know his way around it.

  He’d asked me to move in with him. He hadn’t brought it up since the day, but the question lingered in my head. Moving in with him was a big step. I snorted. Not like having his baby didn’t also fall into that category. But packing up my apartment and unpacking those boxes would change things in a way even a baby wouldn’t.

  It would mean we were in a relationship. Were we already? Our time together straddled a no-man’s land neither of us wanted to define. Defining it made it real. It made it something that could end.

  Bailey hadn’t gotten back to me about what the final decision was on Colm re-joining the team. She said she’d try her best, but what happened if they didn’t let him back on? How would he handle that? I hadn’t mentioned it to him—why bring it up if there hadn’t been a decision yet? Once we knew the new lay of the land, then we could adapt and rework his plan.

  There were so many decisions that needed to be made.

  I’d gotten an earlier appointment, which would mean that his badgering me about whether I was okay might ease up a bit. The stack of baby books on his side of the bed grew by another volume every day.

  His side of the bed.

  I parked in front of his house and hopped out. My bag vibrated. I fished around and found my phone ready to tell him I was already here.

  Speedman Clinic flashed up on the screen. My heart sped up.

  “Hello.” I glanced up at the house and turned my back to the door, covering my other ear from the sounds of the street around me.

  “Imogen?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Mary, we spoke late last week.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted to call to congratulate you. We have the final date for when the clinic will be ready. June is our opening date, which would be three months after your due date, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “We could bring you on as a consultant during your maternity leave, if you need the insurance, or you can stay with your old job. But we’d love to have you stop by a couple times a month to make sure everything at the clinic will be to your specifications once it’s ready. Dr. Speedman is excited to have you on board, and we were even able to swing a pay bump. It would be great if you could come down to the Center City office to complete the paperwork.”

  I turned and stared up at the brownstone.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, sorry. I’ll come down later this week.”

  “This is great news, right? You do still want the position?”

  “Of course. Sorry, I’m outside and it’s a bit noisy.”

  “We can go over all the details when you stop by.”

  I ended the call. The happy dance feeling didn’t come over me. After a year of searching, I finally had a job that would be perfect for me. A location close to Fern and Charlie. More money. Flexible hours. And none of it felt right.

  My earlier excitement at seeing Colm leached away with each step closer. How would I tell him about my plan?

  I opened the door. The curtains were drawn and Colm sat at the counter with a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. He spun it against the granite countertop, scraping and screeching with each turn. “The coach called me for a meeting today.”

  My stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted back on the team. Bailey said she’d do everything she could to get them to reconsider.”

  His head shot up. “How much I wanted back on the team? Are you saying they’re not going to let me back on the team?”

  The pit in my stomach morphed into a yawning abyss and I was being dragged down to the bottom. “You said you had a meeting with the coach today.”

  “He called me for a meeting today. It’s in an hour.”

  He slid off the stool. “Did Bailey tell you they were booting me from the team?”

  My mouth opened and a small sound echoed in the silent room. “She said they had a hot new recruit and were going to take you off the roster.” My shoulders slumped.

  “When did she tell you?”

  “The day you invited me to the rink.”

  “You’ve known since then and you didn’t think I could use a heads-up?”

  “She said she’d do everything she could to stop it from happening.”

  “How about giving me the information about my future? You think you know the best way to handle it or the best way I should deal with it?” The muscles in his neck tightened.

  “It wasn’t a sure thing.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “And lose all the progress you’d made? Anything deviates from the plan and you’re ready to shut out the world and find your answers in the bottom of a bottle.”

  “Do you think you
being pregnant has been part of the plan? You don’t think that’s stressed me the fuck out? But have I shut out the world? No, I’ve been sticking to my recovery plan. I’ve been working my ass off. I got out on the ice because I wanted to prove it to myself. I wanted to prove it to you.”

  “And you did it. Whether you get back on the team or not, you did it.”

  “With you lying to me the whole time.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You were going to let me walk into the building and straight into an ambush.”

  “Bailey said she’d tell me once the decision was made. I only found out a couple days ago. I thought we had more time.”

  My phone’s shrill ring escaped my bag.

  “Who is it?”

  I glanced at the screen. “Bailey.”

  He plucked the phone out of my hand and jabbed at it.

  “Sorry, Bailey, Imogen isn’t here right now. You don’t need to give her the warning about me being cut from the team. I already know you’ve been hiding that from me. Save your fucking sorry. The two of you were the perfect good cop, bad cop, weren’t you?” His searing gaze swung to mine. “Let’s make sure Colm doesn’t go crazy when he finds out. Get him out of the house and skating again, at least he won’t continue to be a shut-in.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “How was it then?”

  My mouth opened and closed.

  “You know what, save it. Both of you.” He ended the call and tossed the phone back to me.

  I fumbled, nearly dropping it.

  “Get out.”

  “Colm—”

  “You’ve done your job. I’m not broken anymore. Thanks for the help.”

  “Maybe there’s something that can be done. A deal or something temporary.”

  “I don’t need any more of your solutions, Imogen. Congratu-fucking-lations, you’ve fixed up another hockey player. I’m sure it felt good to mend another baby bird. You patched me up just like you did your dead boyfriend.”

  I flinched. “That’s not fair.”

  “We know better than anyone that life isn’t fucking fair, Imogen. But I thought you’d at least have been upfront with me. Were you upfront with Preston? Did he get the same treatment you gave me?”

  “Stop.” Tears burned in my eyes.

  “Was that your secret treatment that took Preston from absolute mess to full sainthood?”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what? Was this why you didn’t want to move in with me? You were hedging? Biding your time until you could collect your check and leave? Damn, this baby must’ve been a real inconvenience.” Sarcasm and vengefulness dripped from each word.

  My hands shot to the growing bump under my sweater. “Don’t you fucking dare!” Anger shoved the sadness down and threatened to boil over. “This was never about anything other than getting you better. It wasn’t about money or the baby or Preston. You’ve got this fixation on him.”

  “One of us does.”

  “This is about us.”

  “There is no us. I’ve been so stupid, tiptoeing around you and trying not to scare you off, easing you into a relationship. I shouldn’t have to beg for that. But, hey, the joke’s on me! You never wanted it in the first place.”

  “Can’t you see why? You cut off your sister and shut out your best friend because they didn’t fit into the boxes you put them in. You’re always so sure you know the exact right thing for everyone else’s life. ”

  He slow clapped in front of my face. “Welcome to the damn club. What did you just do to me? You had to swoop in to ‘fix’ me.” He put his fingers up into air quotes.

  “Or you’d still be drowning yourself in the bottom of a bottle.”

  “There you go again, knowing what’s best for everyone else. At least I’m upfront when I tell someone what I think. I don’t go behind their back, making backroom deals. And for what?”

  “There was no ulterior motive. None. All I wanted to do was help.” Confusion crowded out the maelstrom of emotions. How the hell had the conversation gone here?

  “Saint Imogen has come down from her perch to huddle with the unwashed masses.”

  “Screw you! All I was trying to do was make you see what you could have and stop sabotaging yourself left and right,” I shouted, getting straight in his face. My cheeks were burning, and a curtain of rage clouded my vision. “You’re the most self-important asshole, only ever thinking about yourself. You don’t give a shit about anyone else around you, because if you did, you’d have pulled yourself together for them even if you couldn’t muster up the courage for yourself. Instead I literally had to waterboard you out of bed to stop your damn pity party.”

  Our gazed were locked, both of us panting like we’d run a two minute mile.

  “You made me want it.” The words barely made it past his clenched teeth. “You made me hungry to get back on the ice and play for the team that doesn’t even fucking want me.” The flicker of pain in his eyes was gone in a snap. The muscles in his neck strained. “Story of my life. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Girlfriends, fiancées, now you. Always hung up on someone else. I’m not going to do that anymore. You go ahead and raise our kid with the ghost of your dead boyfriend and get the hell out of my house.” He said it in a low boiling rage that sent a streak of guilt and fear that I’d fucked everything up racing down my spine.

  I fled the house, slamming the door behind me and jumping into my car with tears streaming down my face.

  In front of my building, I dropped my head to the steering wheel, trying to catch my breath as the sobs wrenched all the air from my lungs. It hurt. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, letting loose everything I’d kept bundled up inside. Tears streamed down my face for every sleepless night all alone. Every date night spent alone in my apartment. Every day I’d yearned for someone to touch me like I’d dreamed of being touched. Not just someone. Colm.

  I’d thought we could be a family. I’d thought I could finally start over again, but that was a lie, and the pain made it hard to breathe. My head ached, throbbing as I flung myself into my bed. I curled up into a ball and pulled the blankets over my head. Maybe I’d wake up and it would all have been a terrible nightmare.

  Why hadn’t I told him? Why had I kept that information from him? Because I’d thought he’d react this way, lashing out. Or I’d feared he would. Or maybe I’d hoped he would to shatter the infancy of our relationship before I’d gotten in too deep, but I’d been wrong. It was already way too late for that.

  33

  Colm

  Staring at the bottle of gin on the counter, I lifted it to pour into my glass, but slammed it down before the first drop hit the bottom of the tumbler. The shatter was the first signal that it hadn’t filled my glass to the brim. Glass shards and splinters littered the ground and the pungent smell of alcohol pushed the lemon fresh scent away.

  I dropped my head into my hands. What had I done? I’d been paralyzed by that same rooted-to-the-floor haze that had overcome me when Imo and I discovered she was pregnant. When my hands finally unclenched, the muscles screamed in agony.

  Sitting at the counter with my drink before she came in was meant to be part celebration and part mourning. Once I was back on the team, we’d still have over sixty games to play. It would be weeks on the road by bus and plane, crisscrossing the country. And it meant I’d go stretches without seeing Imo.

  At least that’s what I’d thought, until Imo dropped the bomb that had turned the plan in my head into ash. There wouldn’t be a need to charter a plane to get back to her faster. Or warn the Coach that when Imo went into labor I was on a plane, even if we were in the middle of a period. That worry had been in vain.

  I was done. Kicked off the team. I made the long walk to my execution in a haze. The glass dumped into the trashcan. Mopping the floor. The drive to the stadium. Everything was on autopilot as I drove to the end of my career.

  Part of me wishe
d I was still unable to walk into the rink. I’d much rather have been puking in the trashcan outside the entrance right now. Then being cut would have felt like a relief.

  Squaring my shoulders, I walked in trying to figure out what the hell happened when this was all over. It’s what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? To stay holed up in my house and drown my sorrows? But Imogen had peeled back the layers of my insecurity and hadn’t let it happen.

  If I’d gotten off my ass and poured myself into my rehab and told the guys earlier what was going on with me, maybe I could’ve salvaged this. Now I had to face my fate.

  My anger at her had been misdirected. It wasn’t unjustified—she’d lied when I’d asked her what was wrong at the rink—but I was equally pissed at myself for letting an opportunity some people would kill for slip through my fingers.

  I stood outside the door to the Coach’s office with my fingers wrapped around my knees, squeezing until my fingers ached.

  The door swung open.

  Instead of the coach coming out to sit me down for the shutdown, Emmett, Heath, Declan, and Ford filed out.

  “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

  “Making a deal.”

  “What? What kind of deal?”

  “That’s enough, you’ve all done enough. Let me talk to him,” Coach’s gruff voice barked out from the office.

  Emmett knocked his fist into my shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”

  I went inside, standing with my hands locked in front of me.

  Coach eyed me. The grim set to his jaw contrasted with the fury in his eyes. “Quite some friends you have there.”

  I kept my lips locked.

  He slammed a manila folder down on the desk. “You get one chance. You’re going head to head in a scrimmage. You against your trade. You win, you’re back on the team. You lose, we part ways with no hard feelings.”

  I stumbled forward opening my mouth, but no sound came out for what felt like minutes. “Why?”

  With his arms crossed over his chest, he stood from his chair. “They threatened to walk.” His jaw popped as he rounded the desk.