He was overdoing it, downplaying his doctor’s warnings, hoping that working it harder would help him strengthen the muscles around it. And he didn’t know how to admit it to Eva.
He didn’t want to disappoint her.
“You okay?” Eva held out a hand to help him up, but he waved it off, hauling himself back up. Eva scanned him head to toe, then back up again, finally settling on his eyes. The look she gave him wasn’t pity. Wasn’t even concern. It was anger. “What the hell is going on with you, forty-six?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped. “What’s it say on your little clipboard?”
She didn’t respond. Just stared at him, hard and unmoving. He used to think that particular glare was her go-to look, but now he realized it was just one of many in her arsenal, each one as layered and nuanced as the shades of honey in her eyes.
Today’s look was the I’m paid by the hour, so we can do this all day if you want look, which differed from the I don’t have all day to wait for you to get over yourself look only in the soft curve of her mouth, pulled slightly to the left instead of the right.
Walker shook his head, then pushed himself off the boards, skating back to the center line, trying to figure out where the fuck he went wrong, what the fuck could’ve happened between them. Was it something he said? Something he did? Something he didn’t do?
Things had been weird ever since the hockey game last week. Not bad, just… distant. She’d turned down his next dinner invite, and the only time she’d returned his texts was when they were about skating.
On the ice, when Walker wasn’t pissing her off, she was still laughing at his jokes, still rolling her eyes at his attempts at flirting, still giving him shit when he wasn’t working as hard as he could be. But ever since she’d talked to McKellen in the suite, it was like a wall of ice had gone up between them. Walker could still see her, still hear her, but he couldn’t feel her. They hadn’t hooked up again, hadn’t even kissed after the game. It was like their first day on the ice all over again, only worse. Worse because since that first day, he’d kissed her, tasted her sweet honey, felt her breath on his face as he slid inside her and drove her completely over the edge, and now he knew what he was missing.
It didn’t help that they hadn’t had any time alone lately. Today was the first session without any visitors—Roscoe and Henny had shown up to the Wednesday and Friday sessions, helping Eva set up more challenging drills, doing their best to encourage him. McKellen had stopped in, too, watching his progress from the players’ bench, conferring with Eva during Walker’s warm-up laps. Lately, everyone else seemed to know more about his situation than he did. Walker had no idea who would stop in next.
He wished he could blow it off, just forget what had happened between them and focus on the training. That’s where his head should be at. Where his energy should go. But one look at those amber eyes and that uptight little bun, and he was gone. He couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t skate. Couldn’t do much of anything except go through the motions.
“I asked you a question,” Eva said, easily catching up to him. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Walker sniffed. Hard. “I’m good.”
“You’re not good. You’ve been slipping all week.” She consulted her clipboard after all, shaking her head in disproval. “I don’t understand. You were doing so well, and then… This isn’t like you.”
“Oh no? Maybe it’s exactly like me, princess.” He skated close, anger and frustration fueling him from that deep, dark place in his soul where all his demons lived. “Maybe all this time, you only thought you had me figured out. But you don’t know—”
“I know you’re afraid.”
“Like I said, Eva. You don’t know shit about me.” He nodded toward the exit at the back of the arena. “So there’s the door. Don’t let it hit you in the pretty little ass on your way out.”
God damn that woman knew how to hold her own. She didn’t back down an inch. Her eyes flashed with fire, her cheeks red.
“Are you finished?” she demanded.
“Are you?”
Eva shoved him, sending him sliding backward. She came at him again, grabbing his jersey, shoving against his chest, and Walker let her do it. Let her take control, let her push him as hard and fast as she dared.
The pain he’d been trying to hide all morning was back, shooting through his muscles, curling its gnarly fist around his joints. Suddenly, he welcomed it. Longed for it. He picked up speed on the ice, skating backward as Eva pushed him, the cold wind snapping against his neck. Faster. Faster. The crash at the end would hurt, but he wanted it now. Wanted to hit those boards, wanted to taste the blood in his mouth, see it splattered on the ice, feel the kind of bruising, crushing blow to the gut that would knock the wind right out of him.
But when he finally hit those boards, there was no pain. No blood. No crushing blow.
Only Eva. Beautiful, passionate, infuriating Eva.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to stop fighting and just let himself fall.
He settled on yelling at her instead. “Why are you even here?”
She flinched at the rage in his voice, but stood her ground, refusing to release his jersey. “I’m here to work. To get you back on the Tempest.”
“Bullshit.”
“You can do this, Walker. You’re close. I don’t know what’s going on, but you gotta dig deep. Work harder. Get control of whatever’s eating you up inside, because there’s no room for it on the ice.”
Walker laughed. Control?
He used to think he had it figured out. That if he worked hard, showed up, put in his time, everything would be okay. That he’d get to keep playing hockey, keep supporting his family. That he’d find a way to fix his mother, to stop the slow decay of her mind. That he could promise his brothers they’d always be taken care of. That all of those things were within his control, if only he kept up his end of the bargain.
But now he knew the truth. There was no such thing as control. No such thing as certainty. He was tired of pretending otherwise. Tired of letting other people pretend on his behalf.
“Why are you here?” he asked again. “Right now. With me.”
Eva bristled. “I don’t—”
“I’ve seen you out on the ice before practice. I’ve watched your clips. You’re fucking talented.”
“And?”
“And you can’t tell me coaching kids and hockey fuck-ups was your life’s dream. So don’t stand there and give me that rah-rah, you-can-do-it, dig-deep, go-for-the-gold bullshit. Because if anyone needs to hear that speech, it’s the woman who walked away from—”
“I got pregnant,” she said, so soft and defeated he didn’t think he’d heard her right. She finally released his shirt and backed off, putting some space between them. Her eyes glazed with tears, and Walker’s heart dropped right into his stomach.
Why was he such a dickhead?
“I didn’t walk away from anything,” she said. “I got pregnant with Gracie. And I made a choice.”
Of course. He’d known Gracie’s age, known when Eva had stopped competing, but he’d never bothered to do the math and put it together. In fact, after their first few sessions, he’d stopped wondering about what had ended her Olympic career, just glad that it had brought her into his life in the way that it had.
It was only now that he was thinking about it. Using it as a weapon against her, all because he didn’t want to deal with his own shit.
“At first I thought I’d go back,” she continued. “Train really hard after the baby was born, get back in shape to compete again. But the first time I saw her heartbeat on the ultrasound… I knew that my life was over in the best possible way. From that moment on, it was all about Gracie. I miss competing, hell yeah. But I’ve never regretted my choice. That girl is my entire world.”
She met his eyes again, and Walker realized now that the tears weren’t for regret or sadness. They were for joy. They were for love.
But deep down, he knew that was just an excuse. One he’d fallen back on his entire life, keeping him just out of harm’s way.
And just out of love’s.
“Her father…” Eva shook her head, a weariness creeping over her that made Walker want to destroy the man who’d put it there. “We’d been together a few months at that point. Nothing promised, but I… we really liked each other. I assumed he’d at least be decent about the news. I wasn’t expecting a proposal, for God’s sake. But I thought maybe we’d find a way to make it work.”
“It scared him off?”
“Worse.” Eva shook her head, almost as if she still couldn’t believe it, all these years later. Walker’s hands balled into fists at his side. “He tried to talk me into… he didn’t… he didn’t want me to have the baby, period. Said if I did, he wanted nothing more to do with me, and nothing to do with it. It. He actually called her an it.”
Walker’s gut twisted. Gracie was such an amazing kid. So beautiful, so perfect. It? What the fuck kind of royal asshole was this guy?
“That man has kept his promise,” Eva said. “In the beginning, I sent him pictures and a little note telling him about how she was doing—just once a year. Nothing crazy.” Eva shrugged. “I did it for Gracie. I knew as she got older she might ask about him, might want him in her life at some point, and I thought if he saw her, if I told him about her, he might feel some kind of personal connection. I don’t know. It was stupid, I guess.”
Walker fought to keep his temper in check, but he was already picturing what this douche bag would look like with a hockey stick shoved up his ass. “Did he ever respond?”
“He only wrote back to one letter—the third and last one I sent. The envelope had her picture, all torn to pieces. There was a note inside, scratched on the back of an old receipt. Like, he couldn’t even be bothered to send an actual letter.”
“What did he say?”
Eva laughed, but it was bitter and hollow, nothing even close to the real thing. “If you want money, take me to court.”
Walker’s vision swam with red, his heart pounding so hard it made him dizzy. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Where the fuck is this guy now?”
“Seattle.” Eva met his gaze and held it for a long time, not speaking. Walker wondered if she’d regretted telling him the story. If she actually missed the son of a bitch. If she wished things were different, even now.
Eva looked out across the ice, then turned back to him, her eyes totally unguarded, vulnerable in a way he’d never seen them.
In a voice so soft he had to lean in to hear her, Eva said, “He… he plays for the Vipers.”
It took Walker a minute to process, even though his insides were already boiling with rage. Seattle. Vipers.
Gracie’s father, royal asshole, was a fucking NHL player.
One that Walker might even know.
He cupped her chin, his light touch and gentle tone at complete odds with everything inside him. “Eva. What is this guy’s—”
“Please.” Eva held up her hands, backing away from Walker’s touch. “Don’t ask his name. I can’t. That part of my life is over. He’s made his feelings about Gracie clear, and I don’t want anything to do with him. My only hope is that Gracie won’t either. If that man ever hurt her…” The words faded away.
“How can I kick the guy’s ass if I don’t even know who he is?”
Eva finally smiled, and Walker felt the anger leaking out of him. “It’s the thought that counts,” she said.
“Oh, I’m thinking about it. In vivid color. Believe me.”
“I know. And I appreciate it.” Eva lowered her eyes. When she finally looked up at Walker again, the vulnerability was gone, replaced with the steely determination and grit he’d come to love about her. “I don’t quit just because shit gets tough, Walker. But that doesn’t mean I don’t quit at all. Sometimes you have to walk away from one thing so that you can be strong enough for something else. Something better.”
Eva left him with those words as she skated backward toward the center ice, looping into a graceful figure eight. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, or maybe trying to shake them off.
Walker gave her some space. Besides, he loved watching her skate. Loved the rhythmic swish of her skates on the ice, the fluid arc of her body as she floated across the rink like a feather on the breeze. Every movement was intentional, strong, beautiful. Eva on the ice was art.
For Eva, skating had made her a world champion, but becoming a mother to Gracie had made her even stronger. Better. More complete. Walker felt better knowing that about her, knowing that she’d trusted him enough to share the story.
But for him, hockey would always be his source of strength, his purpose, his meaning. There was no “better thing” waiting for him. He needed to be on the ice with his team. He needed to overcome this obstacle and show up on the other side, stick in hand, ready to play.
He just didn’t know how to get there.
When Eva finally returned to him, her smile was wide, those gorgeous amber eyes lit with some new idea that Walker already knew he’d go along with, no matter how crazy, no matter how much he’d rather just scoop her into his arms and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.
For now, he was grateful just to be with her.
Flashing a mischievous grin, she thumbed toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here. There’s somewhere I’ve been meaning to take you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
An hour outside the city limits, on a secluded pond in the middle of Colden farmland, Eva zoomed across the ice, the wind whipping her cheeks, so cold it made her eyes water.
And she was loving every second of it.
She looked over her shoulder, calling out to Walker at the other end of the rink. “How you holding up, forty-six?”
“Just fine, princess.” He met her at the center, his nose pink from the cold. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but she felt them watching her, sweeping her face. “Though I’m pretty sure you just Baby-and-Johnny’d me.”
Eva laughed. “I’m sorry, did you just… was that a Dirty Dancing reference?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Baby.” He skated backward, and in a high falsetto, said, “‘Let’s get out of here. Let’s go somewhere and practice the lift. Oh, Johnny, you’re so strong and sexy.’”
Eva chased after him. “Okay, first of all, do not take Baby and Johnny’s names in vain. And secondly, we are so not practicing the lift. One or both of us would wind up in the emergency room.”
Walker shook his head. “Seriously, have you ever done one of those things? You know, like where the dude grabs the skater by the ankles and spins her around, her head like half a millimeter from hitting that ice and busting open like a melon?”
Walker made a starburst motion with his fingers, and Eva laughed.
“Nice,” she said.
“I always thought those women were insane.”
Eva shrugged. “No more insane than chasing a little black puck around the ice with a bunch of dudes barreling after your ass.” Eva laughed. “Anyway, you’re talking about pairs. I don’t know if you know this about me, Walker, but I’ve never been one for group projects.”
Walker tossed his head back and laughed, the bright sun glinting off his glasses, the sound carried off by the wind. Eva smiled. She liked it out here. Liked this version of Walker, goofy and unguarded.
Taking a break from the arena was definitely the right call.
“All right, ice princess,” he said. “You dragged me out to the middle of nowhere. Let’s see some of those world champion moves of yours. Preferably sometime before my eyes freeze.”
“What? We’re here to see your moves, not mine.”
Walker held up
his hands in mock surrender. “That’s cool. If you’re scared, I won’t push. I just thought—considering all the shit you talk—”
“That reverse psychology stuff never works on me,” Eva said, but she was already skating to the other end of the pond, her heart beating with anticipation.
At the far end of the ice, she turned to face Walker, took a deep breath, and pushed off the edge with her toe pick, picking up speed, gliding effortlessly into her backward crossovers. Legs pushing hard, she twirled into a spin, arching backward into a layback, slowly raising her leg. Grabbing the blade of her skate, she lifted higher, up to her hip, to her shoulder, and then all the way up, holding the skate over her head, her leg curving gracefully as the world around her blurred. She could feel it down to her bones; she couldn’t have asked for a more perfect Biellmann spin.
Walker cheered and clapped, but she wasn’t done yet. She came out of the spin and skated hard, gaining speed and momentum as she lapped the ice. Her lungs burned from the icy air, but it felt so good, so perfect. Everything else melted away as she skated hard toward Walker, swish-swish, faster, swish-swish, harder, swish-swish and she pushed off from the back edge of her skate and leaped, curling into the air in a flawless triple flip.
When she nailed the landing, the only sound she heard was her own heart, thrumming proudly in her ears.
She skated back over to Walker, cutting the blades against the surface and spraying him with ice. “Eat it, puck jockey.”
Walker laughed, dusting the snow off his arms. “Oh, princess. I feel so sorry for your future ex-husband.”
“Hey! What about your future ex-wife?”
“Maybe they’ll meet in a bar,” Walker said, “crying into their shot glasses about how awful we are. And then they’ll go home together and make out and live happily ever after. All because of us.”
“Who knew you were such a romantic?”
For once, the teasing was good-natured, both of them at ease outside the confines of the arena. Eva didn’t want to jinx anything, but it was even starting to feel like they might be able to leave behind the tension that had crept up between them after the game. After Eva had stopped returning his sexy text messages. Stopped encouraging his flirty innuendos. Stopped dreaming about him…
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