Fighting against Gravity: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 3)

by Isabella Cassazza

  “It’s just a bed.”

  “I don’t even want to know about the price tag.” Her eyes lock with mine.

  Johnny runs over and pulls on her leg. “Mommy. Tere… tere is a brachiosaurus on t’e side.”

  “Breathe, Johnny.” I bend down to the little one and make sure he takes a big gulp of air before he runs back to his dinosaurs.

  “He sure has never seen a bed like this before.” I lift my upper body and turn to Ellie again.

  She sighs. “Thank you. And thank you for putting the fence around the pool. It—”

  “Selfish reason again. I don’t want him to fall inside either. He’s pretty good when he kicks the ball around. I want him to enjoy my yard as long as the weather holds.”

  “Thank you.” She drops her head on my shoulder.

  “You’re welcome.” I kiss her hair.

  “Mommy.”

  “Come on. Let’s listen to more unpronounceable dinosaur names.” I stretch out my hand and take her by the elbow in an old-fashioned gesture. Pity we can’t hold hands yet.

  “Are you sure you can take care of him?” Ellie asks for the second time.

  “We’ll be fine. Don’t you worry. We’ll read the dino cards again or do one of the puzzles. Go get your leg checked out.” I push Ellie out the door where the driver is waiting for her.

  Her sister was supposed to watch Johnny today, but has fallen ill overnight. So here I am. Kid-whisperer Michael at your service to save the day, or the doctor’s appointment. The one that will determine when she’ll get rid of the cast. Most likely in two weeks. Two weeks more of having her and Johnny around. What seemed like an eternity in the beginning now flies by way too fast.

  When Ellie visited her sister two days ago, the silence inside the house was freaking me out. I turned on some music, watched a movie, and then listened to an audiobook, but it didn’t fulfill me. It didn’t make me happy.

  It didn’t make me laugh out loud like when Johnny dances to the kid’s songs on Ellie’s laptop. It didn’t fill me with pride like when he manages to put a puzzle together all on his own. And it didn’t leave me as content as when he places his little head on my shoulder when I read a picture book to him.

  And that’s only Johnny.

  His mom is keeping me on my toes for entirely different reasons.

  As if sensing my thoughts, she bends down to the little guy next to me and gives him a kiss goodbye. “Be good, Johnny.”

  He nods, and I take his little hand as we watch her walk to the Uber.

  “Want to do another puzzle?” I ask once she’s outside.

  Johnny drops down on his knees and reaches for the puzzle featuring a dinosaur. The one we’ve done four times already. I’m tempted to buy him a new one—more for my sake than for his—but I don’t want to anger Ellie again. She’s accepted the bed. That has to be enough for now.

  I sigh and slowly sink down on the floor next to him. It’ll be another week until I have an appointment with my new physical therapist. I’m in dire need of one. Crawling on the floor with Johnny and long nights of sex with Ellie have taken a toll on my knee.

  I tried to work through parts of my old stretching routine, but that only made it worse. I need a professional to help me improve my mobility. I want to get rid of at least some restrictions. My knee will never be perfect again, but if I could only stop the liquid fire running through my leg right now, I’d be a happy man. I want to do more things, but the fucking knee is making it impossible.

  “Ton.” Johnny gives me his signature crooked smile.

  “Well done.” I stroke his head, and he smiles even more. To be a child again and to be praised for completing a mini-puzzle. “Want to do another one?”

  He shakes his head and bites his lip.

  “What else do you want to do?” I’ve learned by now to give him time and let him make the decisions.

  “Watch TV,” he puffs in his typical Johnny way.

  I sigh. “Johnny, you aren’t allowed to watch TV.”

  “Want to watch ‘otey on TV.” His voice tells me he’s about to jump up and stomp his foot.

  I shiver. Of all the things he could want to watch… Send help, please. Please don’t throw a tantrum.

  “Johnny, your mommy doesn’t want you to watch too much TV. And hockey isn’t even on at this time of the day. We can watch Sesame Street later. But no more.” I try to reason with him. I should know by now that he’s as stubborn as a mule when he’s set his mind to something. Just like his mom.

  “Mommy let’s me watch ‘otey. Want to watch it on TV.” The little guy jumps up and stomps his feet. Here we go.

  “No.” It’s hard not to give in to him, but I can’t let him get away with anything. When would Ellie let him watch hockey? There isn’t a TV in Johnny’s new room and there isn’t one in her guest room either. She has a laptop, but….

  “Want to watch ‘otey.” He stomps his feet twice more and runs around the couch to where I can’t reach him.

  “Johnny, come back.”

  “No.” His voice sounds small and clipped.

  “Jonathan, you come back out this very instant.” I try to impersonate Ellie’s schoolteacher voice.

  “No.”

  I sigh and push myself off the floor, using the couch for leverage.

  “Johnny, come on. We can read the dinosaur card game or read a picture book—”

  “Don’t want pitsur’ book.”

  The little man is getting angry. He’s thrown tantrums before, but he’s never sounded as willful as today.

  “Johnny.” I limp around the couch and touch my fingertips to his shoulder, but he isn’t having it. He ducks under my hand and runs away, not watching where he’s going.

  He collides with a shelf and falls to the floor, which wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the vase sitting on top of the damn thing. I look at the kid on the floor and back to the vase swaying from side to side. Shit.

  I dive forward and crash on my good-for-nothing knee in a desperate attempt to shield Johnny from the big object. Why the hell did my dad have to buy a new one?

  The vase doesn’t hit the little boy, but it bounces on my shoulders and shatters on the floor. One of the stupid pieces hits me right over the eye. Double shit. Warm fluid runs down my temple. My hand flies to where throbbing pain causes a headache. Yup, I’m bleeding. A lot. An awful lot.

  “’urt?” Johnny rolls over under me and points at my eye.

  “Yes, I’m a little hurt, but it isn’t bad. Don’t move, Johnny. I don’t want you to get hurt too. Okay?”

  “Tay.” His big green eyes look sincere, but I’ve learned my lesson with the little guy. He doesn’t understand how dangerous the situation is. Can’t understand the danger.

  Pieces of the ugly vase lie everywhere around us, threatening to injure either him or me. If he were to scratch his wrists on the broken pieces….

  My hand trembles so badly it takes me two attempts to pick up my cane. Thank God, the thing didn’t slide all over the floor. Then I sit up and drag the little guy on my lap. What to do now? It doesn’t help that my vision is blurred with red dots.

  I’ll need stitches sooner rather than later, but my first concern is Johnny.

  “Can you turn around and put your arms around my neck?”

  He turns and hugs me close.

  I put one hand under Johnny and then place it on the couch’s backrest. My other hand takes its usual place on the cane. I push. My arm muscles scream. But I manage to stand up with Johnny holding on to me like a little monkey. I sway. From exhaustion. From relief. From… I’m not sure from what.

  I saved Johnny. But barely. Imagining what could have happened to him, I feel sick to my stomach. I’m the one responsible for him today, and I messed up. Big time.

  Only a fool would put the little guy in danger again.

  And I’m no fool.

  Chapter 19

  Ellie

  “What happened? Nessy said on the phone you n
eeded stitches.” I study the Band-Aid above Michael’s eye, but of course can’t see what’s underneath.

  My heart is racing in my chest and my left leg is burning not only from running from one end of the hospital to the other after the doctor finally removed my cast, but from fear. Fifteen minutes ago, I wanted to throw a party and celebrate my newfound mobility, but Nessy’s call ended my endorphin high.

  “It’s nothing.” Michael turns his head away.

  “Well, it sure doesn’t look like nothing.” I sit down next to him and wring my hands in my lap.

  “I’ve had worse.” He still refuses to meet my eyes.

  “So…” I clear my throat. “What happened?” Why doesn’t he want me to know?

  He massages his temple with one hand while keeping the other securely around Johnny. The little guy is sound asleep on his new favorite pillow—Michael’s chest.

  He sighs. “He wanted to watch hockey on TV.” He looks at Johnny rather than at me.

  What the hell is going on here? I get that Michael wouldn’t want to watch hockey, but….

  “Michael, why did you need stitches above your eye if Johnny wanted to watch hockey on TV?” He’s driving me insane right now. Why isn’t he talking to me?

  “Where are your crutches? And your cast?” He still isn’t meeting my eyes, but at least he’s looking at me now. My body, not my face.

  I shake my head. Why are we talking about me right now? “The bone’s grown back together. The doctor removed the cast today.”

  “Good for you.” He drops his head on the backrest and closes his eyes.

  “It is. But would you please explain what happened here?” I look around the waiting area for clues. There aren’t any.

  The Band-Aid isn’t too big and since he’s already been treated it can’t have been that bad. But I need to know what the hell happened. “How many stitches did you get?”

  Michael closes his eyes. His jaw muscles twitch. “You should leave. You can go back to your old life now.”

  His words hit me out of nowhere. What? “I’m sorry… I—”

  The jaw muscles twitch some more. “If you don’t have crutches anymore, you can live on your own again.” His eyes remain closed while he rips my heart into a billion little pieces.

  I blink. “This morning you wanted me to stay, and now…. Will you at least talk to me?”

  “I’m tired.”

  He’s shutting me out. There’s no other way to say it. The question is why? Johnny seems fine, and if they’d have gotten into a fight, he wouldn’t be sleeping on Michael right now. None of this makes sense.

  Why the rush to send us away all of a sudden when he insisted this morning we should stay as long as we wanted.

  “Are you throwing me out?” I want him to look me in the eyes and tell me to leave.

  He moves his head from side to side, but his lips remain sealed.

  No answer is answer enough. My question isn’t important enough for him to open his stupid eyes and mouth.

  I can’t believe I’m being abandoned again. I should know better by now. I should. But I don’t. I was right to stay away from men. They only complicate life. What are a few orgasms in exchange for all the heartbreak?

  I swallow the bitter bile in my throat. “I see. Let me take Johnny then. I can call an Uber and put him in his bed while I pack our things.”

  “I’ll take you home.” His eyes fly open, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he looks right through me.

  I lower my eyes while Michael pushes himself up from the couch with considerable effort. Home, what a joke. He’ll drive us to his place. Not ours. And it never will be.

  I bite my lip to stop the tears in my eyes from falling down my cheeks and only look up again when Michael’s turned the corner. Then I bite the inside of my lip again so hard I’m sure I draw blood. I’m not shedding tears over a man ever again. I’m in control. No one else.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I drop my head into my hands and take deep breaths. It doesn’t help. Wetness gushes down my cheeks and covers my palms. How could I have been so stupid?

  I’m not beautiful enough to hold the interest of a man like Michael. Him and I, it was all just a beautiful dream. One that was doomed from the very beginning. Fairy tale princes that save single moms from eternal loneliness don’t exist in real life.

  I square my shoulders and limp through the hospital. Running earlier wasn’t a good idea. The doctor warned me to be careful the first couple of days. My leg will probably swell again. I couldn’t care less. At least the pain will distract from the one in my heart.

  The drive back to Michael’s house is a silent one. Not that there is anything left to say anymore. Thank God Johnny sleeps through the ordeal.

  Once we’ve arrived at the house, I clear my throat. “I’ll need an hour or two to pack our things—”

  Michael’s jaw muscle twitches again. “It’ll be dark by then. You can stay one more night.” And with that, he picks up Johnny and heads inside. My stomach clenches. I’ll have to go in Michael’s room later to collect some of my things. All I want is to hide in Johnny’s room and cry my heart out. But I can’t risk waking up my son.

  It takes me four hours to pack most of our things. Not because we have so much stuff, but my leg has swollen to twice its size under my long skirt. My ankle is on fire and each step sends burning shots of pain through my body. I welcome it. At least I have an excuse for why my eyes are red and puffy. I’ve been crying for hours now. Thank God it’s Sergei’s day off. I couldn’t face the Russian chef right now. I don’t want to face anyone right now.

  I’m ready to collapse when Johnny’s voice sounds through the silent house. “Don’t wat to sleeb witout you.”

  I sigh. Michael has kept him company since he woke up three hours ago, but it’s his regular bedtime now. The little guy won’t understand that we are on our own again.

  With an angry gesture, I brush away the wetness on my cheeks and limp to what used to be Johnny’s new room. Still is. But only for one more night.

  Michael is sitting on the bed and strokes my little boy’s head. At least he’s treated Johnny well, aside from the bumpy beginning of their relationship.

  “Johnny, Michael wants to sleep in his bed. I have a surprise for you. We’re going home tomorrow. You can sleep in your own bed then.”

  My little boy breaks out in tears. “Don’t wat to to ’ome.” He hiccups. “Want to ‘tay wit Mitel.” He throws his little arms around the anti-knight in shining armor and cries his heart out.

  I close my eyes. It’s not that I didn’t see this coming. I can’t buy a custom-made dinosaur bed for him. And we don’t have the room to take this one with us. The little guy isn’t stupid.

  He’s been living his best life. With a chef to provide tasty food and more toys than he’ll ever be able to play with and a massive yard to run around. Why would he want to go back to playing in the park again? The transition back to our real life will be a rough one—one I’d like to spare him. But can’t.

  “I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay?” Michael meets my eyes for a split second before he turns his attention back to my son.

  “Tay. Mommy too.” Johnny crawls on Michael’s lap and pats the bed beside him.

  I flinch. “Your bed isn’t big enough for all of us, Johnny. You have to decide who’s going to read your bedtime story to you.” Please choose Michael. I need to pack. No way I’m crying in front of Michael.

  “No. Want Mommy an’ Mitel.” His voice has a finality to it that none of us dares to challenge.

  I exhale deeply. My son’s needs are always more important than my own. “Okay. We’ll both stay here until you fall asleep. I’ll sit in the chair over here. And Michael will lie down with you. But first you need to brush your teeth.”

  “Tay.” He jumps from Michael’s lap and stretches out his hand for the big man to take, leaving me standing there while they enter the bathroom and shut the door. Mommy’s out, appare
ntly.

  I sink down in the armchair beside the bed while the sound of water splashing around and laughter sounds through the closed door—another reminder that it was all just a beautiful dream. One I’ll have to shelf as another warning not to let a man enter my heart.

  Why is it impossible for me just to have sex and not to get attached emotionally? There are women out there who know how to do that. Why can’t I be one of them?

  Michael would be down to keep a fucking-only arrangement. I’m sure of it. I’m the one unable to detach sex from developing feelings. Maybe that’s what’s pushed him away. This morning I cuddled longer with him than ever before. A stupid mistake. Men like him can smell emotions through closed doors. He’s certainly smelled mine and is pushing me back. I’ll never learn my lesson.

  Johnny runs back in the room and throws himself on the bed, ending my pity party.

  I only half-listen to the picture book Michael reads to Johnny. But I make sure I kiss my son good night the way we always do it. It will have to be enough come tomorrow. There’ll be no Michael. There’ll only be me.

  Johnny’s asleep in no time. So is Michael, or at least he pretends to be. It’s hard to tell in the darkness. His breathing is even, that much I can tell.

  I should leave the room and pack the rest of our things, but I want to brand the picture of Michael and Johnny holding each other in their sleep in my brain like a tattoo. One I’ll hold on to forever.

  My lower lip trembles again. I should never have slept with Michael. It was bound to end in disaster. Each and every one of our encounters did. That’s what I have to call him in my mind again—Mr. Disaster—and forget about the caring man I got to know once he let me take a peek behind closed doors. He isn’t for me. I always knew it. But I wished for a better ending.

  Life isn’t a romance novel with a promised happy ending. I’d do good to stick to the novels in the future and forget about men in real life. That lifestyle functioned perfectly fine for the last three years. Why not go back to normal again?

  Because you’ve allowed yourself another glimpse of what could be. I’ve tasted the forbidden fruit. Now I want more. How could I have been so stupid? Again.