Offside

by Bianca Sommerland

  “Yes, you arrogant, stubborn . . .” Landon paused and glanced over at Becky when she cleared her throat. “Damn it, Dean. I can load the dishwasher. And tidy up. Take care of our daughter while I do it. The doctor said she shouldn’t sleep in the swing for too long. And she needs a bath.”

  “We’re leaving!” Becky called out, grinning when Casey giggled. “Bye!”

  “I’m sorry, Becky.” Dean carefully lifted Amia from her swing without waking her, carrying her over and smiling as Casey rose up on her tiptoes to kiss the top of the baby’s head. “You know how your brother is.”

  “I heard that!” Landon rolled his eyes, his lips curving slightly as he glanced up from wiping down the table.

  “You were meant to.” Dean kissed Becky’s cheek, then Casey’s. “Be good for Mommy. I love you, sweetie.”

  “I love you too, Uncle Dean.” Casey gave him one of her I-mean-business looks. “And you really need to consider going after Richards. It would be a big mistake for you to let another team grab him.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration.” Dean looked at Becky. “All this talk of prospects and birthdays—I haven’t had a chance to ask how you’ve been doing. I hope your time away did you some good?”

  “Yes and no. But I’ve figured some things out,” Becky said, kissing Amia’s forehead. “And you? Are you doing well?”

  “Yes. Silver’s on some new medication that is helping her quite a bit . . . it makes her tired though. She would have come down to see you otherwise.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll see her next time.” Becky bit her bottom lip. “Is she seeing someone about . . .”

  Dean shook his head. “Not yet. But we’re working on it.”

  “All right, well, let me know if I can help.” Becky took Casey’s hand, said her last goodbyes to Dean and her brother, then headed out to her car. She was worried about Silver, but wouldn’t dwell on it. She was in good hands. And she knew Dean wouldn’t hesitate to call if they needed her.

  Once they got home, she and Casey did the bedtime routine that hadn’t changed since Casey was an infant. Bath time, PJ’s, then some mother-daughter chat while Becky brushed Casey’s hair—Casey did most of the talking. Becky read Casey’s current favorite book, Curious George at the Aquarium, for the umpteenth time. Tucked her in. Sang “Ah! Vous dirai-je maman,” as requested. And managed not to cry as she finished the lullaby.

  “Daddy wants me to reason, like a grown-up person.” Why that song of all the ones Becky sang to her? Damn it, her little girl wanted a daddy so badly.

  And she didn’t have one. Not really. Patrick hadn’t called since before he’d sent Casey home, and that was just to let her know what time his mother would by flying down with Casey. He ignored Becky’s emails telling him how Casey was doing in school. The most recent ones asking if he could make it for her birthday. But Casey didn’t ask about him anymore—she did speak to her Nanny every weekend though. Which seemed to be enough. For now, at least Casey had two loving uncles to partially fill that role.

  Over the next two weeks, Becky spoke with Zach and Scott every night. One morning, she opened the door to her office to find a bouquet of blue hydrangeas. She laughed when she read the card, signed by both men.

  I remembered the color! Zach finally took mercy on me and told me the name of the flowers.

  Xoxo,

  Scott

  Every night I think of you, long after I hang up after speaking to you. Things will be okay.

  Love,

  Zach

  Things would be okay. She had to believe it. Her job and Casey kept her busy enough not to worry too much about not spending time with the men, but . . . there was something missing in her life. Moments when she felt like she was standing in a big, empty room alone. Waiting.

  She wasn’t even sure what she was waiting for. Maybe just some assurance that the emptiness wouldn’t last for long. That she still had something to give to the two men in her life.

  That they still needed her as much as she needed them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The fresh bite of wood stain scented the air as Scott carefully wrapped Casey’s gift in the paper provided by the GM. Richter had stopped by the day before to make sure he’d be at Casey’s party, and Scott had nervously spilled both his intention to bring the gift early and told Richter what the gift was. The man spent a lot of time with Casey, so he’d know if she’d like it.

  “She’ll love it, Demyan. It’s . . . you made this yourself?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty good at stuff like this.” Scott shrugged, uncomfortable sharing that little tidbit with the GM, but kinda hoping the man wasn’t about to tell him it was a good thing he could play the game. “I made all my own furniture, but I don’t usually make stuff for other people. It’s just a hobby.”

  “Well . . . if you’re not too busy—this can’t take you away from training—”

  “It doesn’t,” Scott said quickly.

  “Good. Then maybe you could make something like this for Amia? I’d pay you of co—”

  Scott shook his head, barely resisting hugging Richter, speaking in a rush. “I’d love to. And you don’t need to pay me. I didn’t get Silver or the baby anything, and it would be awesome to give them something they’ll like. I mean . . . if you like it?”

  “Scott.” Dean gave him a hard look. “Know your worth. You’re very talented. You have another twelve years at best in your hockey career. It’s good that you have something you enjoy doing to focus on after.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Richter,” Scott said, a little embarrassed by the compliment, not really comfortable talking about life after hockey. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

  Richter hesitated by the door. “Scott, I know you and Sahara are not together. The way she looks at Keane . . .” He sighed. “That aside, I’ve seen how you are with Pearce. And the way you watch Becky when she’s rushing around, herding the press. I have to tell you—”

  “What, Richter? I’m not seeing how what the three of us do is any of your business.”

  “It isn’t. But Landon won’t trust you not to hurt his sister.” Richter’s jaw hardened. “I’m not sure I trust you, but I can deal with my misgivings. Landon has enough stress. I’d simply ask you not to add to it.”

  “So no PDA?” Scott’s tone was sharp, but he was done having everyone dictate his life. What more did he have to do? He scoffed as he held his front door open for Richter. “I don’t think Becky’s into making out in the parking lot like teens. But she’s not going to let her little brother tell her who to be with. She’s made that pretty clear.”

  Nodding slowly, Richter took his cane from where it rested against the wall by the door. The sky was cloudy. His knee seemed to be bugging him. “Forget that I mentioned it.”

  Now Scott felt like an asshole. Richter was just looking out for Bower. They had their own issues. He sighed. “We don’t need to flaunt anything. I’ve got it.”

  “Yo, Demmy, you gonna make me load this into your car by myself?”

  Carter nudged Scott’s shoulder with a fist, bringing him back to the present. Scott glared at him. “Don’t call me that. I put up with it when you were drunk, but—”

  “Ugh, can we not talk about that?” Carter hunched down at one end of the heavy gift. “You don’t bitch when Vanek calls you Demmy.”

  “Yeah, well no one bitches when Vanek does anything.” Scott picked up his end. “I’m glad he’s back, you know?”

  “I know. But he’s starting to be a pain in the ass.” Carter backed carefully through the open front door, easing into the hall outside Scott’s condo. “I’m glad Tim told us to hit him as hard as we can to make sure he’s ready. Vanek chirps at me one more time about the one time I let Chicklet Domme me and I’m gonna do more than nail him into the boards.”

  “I hear you.” Scott took a deep breath as they placed the gift on the floor of the elevator, pushing the button for the basement level. “I swear, the kid’s using his mouth
to make up for lost time.”

  “I’m gonna enjoy watching his Domme put ball stretchers on him at the club this weekend.” Carter winced. “So long as it doesn’t give Seb any ideas.”

  “Fuck off. I should tell him you said that.” Scott smirked. Carter was a fucking pain slut. It had freaked him out the first few times he’d seen Ramos use clamps or a riding crop on him, but Carter clearly enjoyed everything the big man did to him. “You so into being shared, maybe Ramos should ask Chicklet—”

  “No. I don’t think Jami would be cool with another woman . . . fuck, Demyan, about when I was drunk—”

  Oh, hell no. “Forget it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Did you tell, Ramos?”

  “Yeah. I woulda anyway, but Pearce made sure I didn’t put it off.” Carter lowered the gift, waiting for Scott to unlock the backseat of his car before lifting it again. For some reason, his face was really red. And not from the weight. “I told Seb . . . fuck, it would be weird if me and you did anything. After Bower, you’re one of my best friends. We’d have some hot, wild fucking sex—”

  “Ramos never put speech restrictions on you?” Scott felt himself getting hard. His agent, Zach’s, and Stephan needed to be locked up somewhere for at least an hour so he and Zach could do more than crash at the end of the night. Two weeks without any was killing him. And Carter had a nice ass. Friends or not, he couldn’t take much more of this. “He should.”

  “And here I am, baring my soul to you.” Carter shook his head and ducked into the passenger seat. He didn’t speak again until Scott started driving. “Seb and Pearce talked a few times.”

  “So?”

  “If Pearce . . . if I did a scene with him, would it bother you?”

  Scott took a deep breath. The answer should be easy, but it wasn’t. Zach was his and Becky’s. But being a Dom was part of him. Ramos getting him to even consider doing a scene was a good thing. Would it bother him if Zach fucked Carter?

  Hell yes.

  But the other stuff? He wasn’t sure. Watching Carter suck Zach’s cock would be fucking hot. Seeing Ramos and Zach tie Carter up and torture him a little, not letting him come, touching him and using floggers and stuff on him . . .

  I need a bath. Full of ice. Or kill me now. He cleared his throat. “Naw, I guess it would be okay.”

  The last thing Scott wanted to be thinking about when he got to Becky’s place was sex, but his chat with Carter made it hard to think of anything else. And when he tried, all he could think about was whether Zach playing with Ramos and Carter would bother Becky. He carried the gift up to Becky’s porch, set it down, then rang the doorbell.

  When she opened the door, it was like . . . he couldn’t find the words. Damn, he wanted her. But it wasn’t mindless lust like what his talk with Carter made him feel. He wanted to step inside, slam the door in Carter’s face, and pull her into his arms. Kiss her in a way that might express all the things he couldn’t say. Long and slow, like he’d never let her go.

  I don’t have to let her go. If I don’t fuck this up, I’ll have her tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that . . .

  Or would he? It still made him a little nervous because, if she could take off on Zach, what reason would she have to see this through with Scott involved?

  “Hey!” Her tone was bright, but something in her eyes made him feel like she could see his every thought branded right on his forehead. She pressed her lips together, then seemed to come to some kind of conclusion as she waved him and Carter inside, laughing when they whispered their greetings. “You don’t have to worry about waking up Casey. She’s not here—Dean’s mother picked her up earlier since she can’t come tomorrow. She’s bringing Casey to Dean’s so I can decorate tonight.” Her eyes were wide as she looked over the present. “That’s quite the gift. Wow. Dean pulled off the purple Cobra paper! We’ve both been so busy with work, I wasn’t sure he could!”

  “Yeah, not much that man can’t do,” Scott said as he and Carter carried the gift into the living room.

  “Would you boys like a drink? Coffee? Soda?”

  Carter asked for a soda, then made himself comfortable on an armchair as Scott hovered by the large, wrapped package. He started wondering if the stain he’d used was too dark. Or if the thing was too big.

  What if Becky hates it? Or Casey does?

  Becky put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Something’s bothering you, Scott. What is it?”

  Scott shrugged, shuffling his feet and staring at the floor. “Just . . . could you take a look at the gift? I want to make sure it’s okay.”

  “But it’s wrapped so nicely.”

  “Yeah, but . . .” Scott ran his tongue across his teeth and glanced over at Carter. Who just sat back in the chair and smirked. Helpful bastard that he was. Scott knelt by the gift. “The paper won’t rip much if we’re careful.”

  He’d wanted the gift to be a surprise for Becky and Casey, but why disappoint them both? If Becky didn’t like it, he might have time to get Casey something else.

  Becky bit her bottom lip, her eyes seeming a little sad. But she simply nodded.

  They’d need more tape to wrap it up again, but he managed not to ruin the paper. He smoothed the wrapping out over the floor, taking a deep breath before glancing up at Becky. Then he cursed and shot to his feet.

  She was crying.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .” He swallowed, holding out his arms, relieved when she stepped up to him and leaned against his chest. “It’s okay. I’ll get rid of it. I just thought—”

  “Get rid of it?” Becky let out a shocked laugh. “Please tell me you’re joking!” She eased away from him, dropping to her knees in front of the maple toy box, tracing one of the unicorns he’d carved into the lid with a fingertip. “She’s going to love this. How did you . . . you did this, Scott? For my baby?”

  “Yeah.” Is that really so hard to believe? “I told you; I think she’s awesome.”

  Shaking her head, Becky continued to examine the toy box, running her hands over the wood he’d sanded so carefully, checking the special hinge he’d gotten so the lid wouldn’t slam shut. Then she went back to staring at the carved unicorns.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She shot to her feet and threw herself at him, practically knocking him off his feet as she hugged him. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  He rubbed her back and kissed her hair. “So it’s good?”

  “It’s better than—” Becky laughed and playfully slapped his chest. “It’s amazing! What happened to that ego, Mr. Demyan? You have no problem showing it for the press.”

  “I don’t care what they think of me,” Scott said.

  “Ah . . .” Becky gave Carter a pointed look. “Thank you for helping Scott bring that in, Luke. Are you finished your drink?”

  Carter frowned and glanced at his empty glass. “Yeah, but—”

  “It’s been nice seeing you. Give Jami a kiss for me.” Becky took the glass from Carter.

  “Becky, Landon won’t—”

  “Lucas Isaiah Carter, don’t you dare go there.”

  “Hey!” Carter scowled. “Only my mom gets to call me that.”

  “And she probably does it when you’re being a pain in the butt. Landon has no say in this. And you can tell him I said so.”

  “Really?” Carter stood and folded his arms over his chest. “You really think that would be a good idea with all that’s going on?”

  Becky took a long, deep inhale, shaking her head. “Maybe not. Don’t tell Landon. I will when the time is right. But that doesn’t change what I’m going to do with my life.”

  “Fine.” Carter rolled his eyes and headed for the door. “It’s Demyan’s funeral.”

  After Carter left, Scott distracted himself meticulously rewrapping Casey’s gift. Becky didn’t say anything for a long time, simply went through the two bags of decorations, looking up at him once in a while as though she wanted to speak. The si
lence was getting weird. Almost like they were strangers.

  He didn’t like it.

  So he went over to the table and picked up one of the rolled up streamers. “Purple? I thought Casey’s favorite color was pink?”

  “It’s her second favorite color now,” Becky said with a light laugh. “She’s been going back and forth for years.”

  “Ah . . . so her room . . .” His brow furrowed. “If you want, I don’t mind helping paint it again. Unless that’s something you and Zach—”

  “She loves her room. But I’m not finished painting the basement if you want to help.”

  “Sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck and held up the streamers. “Want me to start hanging these?”

  “Soon.” Becky stood, holding on to a banner she’d just taken out of the package. She brushed by him, leaving sparks on his skin with the brief contact. “Can you help me with this first?”

  “Okay.” Scott went to get a chair from the kitchen, inhaling and exhaling slow, even breaths, trying to stick to the task at hand. He returned to the living room, stood on the chair and taking thumbtacks from Becky to pin the banner on one wall. They continued for a bit, Becky asking him about training camp, telling him about her job. Then how well Casey was fitting in at school. He found himself more interested in the conversation when Becky complained about how a teacher had already called her to recommend she encourage Casey to find another interest besides hockey.

  “If Casey were a boy, I doubt anyone would have a word to say about it. I’d rather her be interested in hockey than Pokémon or Skylanders or . . .” Becky gave him a sharp look when he chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. I just wouldn’t want to be that teacher.” He grinned as he stepped off the chair, done with the last of the streamers. “Is Casey good with everything else? Reading? Math?”

  “Yes. And she speaks two languages fluently. I think the teacher just needed something to complain about because Casey’s ahead of her level in everything. It’s not that she’s not making friends—just most of them are boys.”