Break Away (The Baltimore Banners Book 5)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "Just a get-together after the tournament this weekend."

  "What tournament?"

  "Taylor's hockey tournament."

  JP nodded, turning back to the ice as he ran this week's schedule through his mind. "Which day?"

  "All weekend. Saturday and Sunday."

  "She must be excited, non?"

  Emily sighed and looked back toward the ice, her eyes following her niece’s movements. Even with her head turned away from him, he could see the sadness fall over her, could actually feel it descend on her like a heavy blanket. "Yeah. Until tomorrow, when she finds out."

  JP reached out and snagged her chin with two fingers, turning her face toward him. She lowered her eyes, shielding her gaze with partially closed lids. He tilted her chin up until she looked at him.

  "What, ma douce? What is it she will find out?"

  "Nothing that concerns you, don't worry."

  "Tell me."

  "JP, it doesn't concern you. It's not important."

  "Tell me."

  She turned her head away, breaking eye contact. JP let his hand drop, resting his palm against his thigh. But he kept watching her, silently encouraging her to answer him. A long minute went by before she took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging as if bearing a weight too heavy to carry.

  "She was supposed to stay with her father for Thanksgiving and then go to the tournament with him. He backed out. Again." She took another deep breath, her head dropping. "And her mom is working all weekend, so nobody in her family will be with her."

  "You are not going?"

  Emily finally looked at him, her blue eyes filled with sadness. "An aunt isn't much of a substitute for a mom or dad."

  JP didn't know what to say. He didn't know enough about the situation, didn't know any details at all. Only that Taylor's parents were divorced, and that Emily helped her sister out. But her sadness spoke volumes, letting him know how upset she really was. He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, trying to offer a small measure of comfort. Emily didn't push him away, which surprised him. Then he told himself not to read too much into it, that she was upset and probably didn't even realize that she was leaning into him, just the slightest bit. Just enough to make his heart jump and his mind think that maybe she didn't mind him being here quite so much.

  They were both quiet for several long minutes, wrapped up in their own thoughts. JP had no idea what was going on in Emily's mind, but his own was running through his schedule once more, thinking. Wondering. Could it work? Would it matter if it did?

  His gaze drifted to the ice, to the young girl skating back and forth with her teammates. Was that her laughter he heard? Or was it merely his imagination?

  What would he do if that was his daughter, facing a disappointment that would surely hurt? Pain shot through him, sharp and clear, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The loss was still too fresh, the emotion from last weekend still too strong. And he suddenly knew he would do anything to soften the disappointment Taylor would surely feel.

  "Where is her tournament?"

  "Hm?" Emily blinked, no doubt surprised by the question. That, or she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't clearly heard him at first. He repeated the question, surprised that Emily didn't ask him what why wanted to know.

  "It's in Pennsylvania. At the arena in Hershey."

  "That's a long way to drive each day."

  "We're not driving. Everyone has rooms for the weekend. That's what the invitation was for: a few of the parents are taking the kids to the amusement park Saturday night."

  JP nodded, surprised that she had volunteered the information. But he didn't say anything, didn't want her to question his sudden curiosity.

  They sat together in silence, watching the practice taking place on the ice. JP lost track of time, content to just sit there, Emily by his side.

  Until she shrugged his arm off and turned on the bench, her gaze clear as she looked at him. "JP, why are you here?"

  He pressed his palm into his thigh and shifted so he could face her.

  "I wanted to know why you said what you did the other day."

  Emily slid away, an expression of panic crossing her face. She tried to hide it, tried to hide her sudden nervousness, but not quick enough. "What?"

  JP reached for her hand, his fingers threading through hers, and tugged her closer. His gaze was steady, determined, refusing to let hers slide away. He leaned closer, watching her for any reaction as he spoke.

  "You said you didn't think you'd still want to, especially not with me. What did you mean?"

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emily took a sip of the chilled wine then placed the glass on the counter, away from the last few remaining dirty dishes. The house was quiet. Too quiet. The clink of china against china and the splash of sudsy water should have been drowned by laughter and teasing, by the blare of a television in the background.

  But there was nothing but silence, heavy and depressing.

  She rinsed soap from the platter and placed it in the drain to dry, then dipped her hand in the sink to pull the plug. The water swirled around the drain, slow at first, then spinning wildly before finishing with a gurgle. Emily leaned against the counter, heedless of the water dripping from her hands, and stared into the empty sink.

  Their small Thanksgiving dinner, hastily put together, had been anything but festive. She had tried, from the traditional turkey that would feed them for a month, to the fine china reserved for special occasions. But nothing worked. Taylor had barely eaten, had barely even talked. And Monica had been rushed, obviously worried about leaving for work on time.

  So much for a small family gathering.

  Emily grabbed the hand towel and dried her hands, then tossed it over her shoulder before reaching for the wine glass. A few more sips might improve her mood, or at least stop her from throwing the platter instead of drying it. But the wine didn't help, its taste now bitter on her tongue.

  And why wouldn't it be? Everything else from today's fiasco had left a bitter taste in her mouth. It only made sense the wine would do the same.

  She poured the remaining wine into the sink and rinsed the glass then stood there, not knowing what else to do. Should she go talk to Taylor, or give the girl some space to brood? Maybe they could go to a movie, or curl up on the sofa and watch some television before gorging on pumpkin pie. Or maybe—

  The doorbell chimed, the sound echoing throughout the quiet house and interrupting her desperate thoughts. The sound surprised her so much that she actually froze, wondering who could be at the door on Thanksgiving.

  Her heart skipped as a sudden thought, a desperate thought, fought for recognition. Maybe Taylor's father had changed his mind. Maybe he was actually coming to see his daughter.

  She refused to acknowledge the absurdity of that thought. The optimistic hope was not only unwelcome, but completely foolish and unrealistic. She laughed at herself and moved through the living room, drying her hands on the towel before opening the door.

  Her breath left her lungs so quickly she nearly choked. Then she blinked, once, twice, certain her eyes were deceiving her, certain she must be dreaming.

  Or having a nightmare.

  JP stood on the front porch, a large gym bag thrown over his shoulder, two sticks held in his hand. One corner of his mouth tilted in a boyish grin as he reached up and removed a pair of dark sunglasses. His smile widened as he tucked the glasses into the collar of his sweater and looked at her.

  Just looked at her, with those mesmerizing brown eyes framed with lush dark lashes. His hair was swept back off his forehead, the damp ends curling behind his ears and sweeping past the collar of his sweater. He looked different somehow, too charming, too carefree.

  Which was an absolutely ridiculous thing to think about JP. He was always charming, always carefree. For him to look more of either, more of both, was dangerous.

  Emily swallowed back her surprise and frowned. Or at least, tried to frown. She was
n't sure she succeeded, not when she was still trying to come to grips with her surprise at seeing him there.

  "What are you doing here?"

  If her less-than-enthusiastic question fazed him, he didn't show it. In fact, his grin widened and he pushed past her, stepping into the small entranceway as if he belonged there. Emily closed the door against the chilly air then leaned against it, her hands twisting in the dish towel as she watched him.

  He stood in profile, his gaze scanning the quiet living room for a few seconds before he lowered the bag and placed it on the floor, along with the two sticks. Then he turned and faced her, the boyish grin still on his face.

  She tried not to stare, tried to hide the feminine appreciation that swirled through her at the sight of him. The cream-colored sweater pulled tight across his broad shoulders and chest, doing absolutely nothing to hide the lean muscular build of his body. He had pushed the sleeves up, revealing strong wrists and forearms. The sweater fell just at his waist, the soft material a contrast to the darker denim of jeans that hugged his long legs and showcased his muscular thighs. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, the movement shifting the hem of his sweater.

  She caught a glimpse of skin stretched over tight abs just above the waistband of his jeans and had to force herself to look away. His smile grew wider and heat spread across her cheeks when she realized he had caught her looking. She narrowed her gaze and cleared her throat.

  "What are you doing here?"

  JP shrugged then moved through the living room, leaving her no choice but to follow. He stopped in the kitchen, his gaze moving from the now-cleared table to the few dishes stacked in the drain. Was that disappointment she saw flash across his face? It couldn't be.

  "Too late for dinner, I see."

  "What? JP—"

  He chuckled, the rich sound warm and mellow, interrupting her. "Where's Taylor?"

  "Taylor? Yes, of course, she's upstairs. But—"

  "I came to see Taylor. Thought she might want to play some street hockey."

  Emily opened her mouth, then snapped it shut when his words sunk in. Something warm, too warm, filled her when she realized what JP was doing. He had obviously remembered her commenting on how disappointed Taylor would be, and was trying to make her feel better.

  Emily's eyes suddenly burned and she had to blink several times before the sensation stopped. Part of her wanted to ask him to leave, knowing that his being here was too dangerous. No, JP had always been dangerous. But this, going out of his way to make her niece feel better...that wasn't dangerous. That was lethal.

  So why did she suddenly want to launch herself at him and give him a hug?

  Emily took a step back before she did just that, her hands still twisting the dish towel in front of her. She took another step back then turned toward the stairs, grabbing the railing as she leaned forward.

  "Taylor? Can you come here a minute sweetie?" Silence greeted her call. Emily looked over her shoulder at JP, then turned back and called once more, louder this time. "Taylor! You need to come down here. Now."

  Muffled noise came from somewhere upstairs, a thump followed by some muttering. JP chuckled and Emily looked over at him. "What's so funny?"

  "You sounded like a mom."

  The grin died from his face as soon as he said the words. His color paled and he looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Emily, I'm sorry—"

  "Don't." She took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face, wondering if he really thought her that weak, that fragile. "It's an aunt thing, too, okay?"

  JP nodded and finally looked at her. What did he see, she wondered? Did he really see someone fragile? Or something else? Maybe a slob, dressed as she was in a pair of loose yoga pants and a baggy blue sweater. And socks. She didn't even have on shoes!

  And why did it suddenly matter what she looked like? It didn't, period.

  She stepped closer, lowering her voice as the sound of Taylor's hesitant steps finally drifted down to them. "Why, JP? It's Thanksgiving. Shouldn't you be somewhere else?"

  "Non, ma chère. My Thanksgiving was last month, eh? Besides, I wanted to do this. For Taylor." His brown eyes were soft, filled with something she didn't quite understand. And he was close, suddenly too close. Heat drifted from his body and wrapped around her, pulling her in, tempting her. The air between them grew thick, heavy with anticipation.

  Her gaze drifted to his lips, full and soft. The sudden desire to feel those lips pressed against hers surprised her. Scared her. Yet she felt his pull, felt herself leaning closer...

  "John Peer!" Taylor's excited squeal split the air and Emily jerked back, her face suddenly warm. Did she imagine it, or was that disappointment that crossed JP's face? She couldn’t tell, the expression gone so quickly she couldn't be sure.

  And oh God, had Taylor seen?

  No. There was nothing to be seen. Nothing had happened, nothing was about to happen. Just Emily's imagination, running away with her.

  "There's my squirt. And how are you this fine afternoon?"

  "You sound funny." Taylor giggled then ran up to him, her arms wrapping around his waist in a big hug. The action took JP by surprise and he looked over at Emily, his eyes questioning. Then he chuckled, gave Taylor a quick hug, and stepped back.

  "So now I sound funny, eh? I guess I'll take my gear and go home then."

  "Gear? What gear?"

  "My hockey gear. I thought we could play some street hockey but if you think I sound funny." JP shrugged, eliciting another giggle from Taylor. Emily didn't bother hiding her smile at the sound, not when she herself had been desperately thinking of some way to cheer up her niece.

  "Can we? Really?"

  "Of course we can. Do you have a pair of rollerblades? Perfect. Go get them and your helmet and gloves, and I'll show you some moves."

  Taylor squealed again then tore off upstairs, barely acknowledging Emily's call to put on a sweatshirt as JP moved to the living room. She heard him rummaging through the gear bag he had dropped in the entranceway, and wondered if she should follow him or not.

  Probably not.

  No, definitely not.

  She folded the towel and placed it on the counter then stood still, not sure what to do next. Maybe she could catch-up on some reading while they were outside playing—

  "You should change, too."

  Emily jumped at the soft voice behind her, surprised that she hadn't heard JP come back into the kitchen. She placed one hand on the counter then slowly turned, not liking the eager grin that lit his face.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You're playing, too." He pulled a pair of rollerblades from behind his back and held them out to her. She looked down at the skates, her mouth dropping open in shock, then back at him.

  "No." She shook her head. "No way. I'll kill myself."

  "No you won't."

  "They won't even fit me!"

  JP frowned and looked at the skates, then down at her sock-clad feet. "Did your shoe size change?"

  Emily closed her mouth with a snap. He couldn't be serious. Could he? Something dangerously warm and soft floated around her with the realization that he was serious. JP had remembered her shoe size. How could that be? She hadn't even known he knew what it was to begin with! And to remember such a small detail, from so long ago...

  No. She was being foolish, letting something so small and insignificant have a bigger effect on her than it should. It didn't matter what he remembered. And it didn't matter that he was grinning at her, mischievousness glittering in his warm brown eyes. There was no way she was going outside to skate. No way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two hours later, she was bent over in laughter. She shouldn't be, though, not when her legs burned and her entire body ached. Taylor whizzed around her, the street puck tucked securely against the blade of her stick, and moved toward the makeshift goal. JP slid to a stop next to her, a look of exaggerated dismay
on his face.

  "You should at least pretend to try and stop her."

  "You're kidding, right? I can't even move!" Emily tried to skate away and wobbled instead, pin wheeling her arms for balance so she wouldn't land on her butt. Again. JP wrapped a hand around her arm, holding her steady, holding her close. His heat seared her, making her breath hitch. She turned her head, surprised to see his face was only inches from hers, that his eyes had turned a shade darker, had become a shade more intense.

  "John Peer, look!"

  JP loosened his hold on her, his smile softer as he put some distance between them. Not much, just enough so Emily could breathe again. Then he skated away, his movements fluid and graceful as he headed toward Taylor.

  Emily closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow. She could hear their voices behind her, JP's deep and slightly accented, Taylor's a little higher and excited. JP was showing her something, giving her instructions on a way to shoot.

  Emily turned, using the bulky stick to balance herself as she watched them. JP leaned down, a lock of hair falling over his forehead, his expression serious despite the tilt of his mouth. Taylor bent toward him, the ends of her hair escaping from underneath her helmet as she listened, drinking in each word, each piece of advice.

  Would it have been like this, she wondered, watching them. A searing pain and sense of loss filled her as soon as the thought crossed her mind. Foolish. Foolhardy. Dangerous. She couldn't allow herself such thoughts, couldn't dream, not for one second, of what might have been.

  Emily shook her head, forcing the thoughts and images from her mind, and shuffled over to the curb. Not trusting herself to skate along the sidewalk without falling, she sat down right there and began unlacing her skates.

  The stupid skates that fit her perfectly. Because JP remembered her shoe size.

  She muttered to herself, ignoring the cold of the concrete as it seeped through her jeans. The chill was a welcome distraction, pushing away the heat of her foolish thoughts.