Penalty Play

by Lynda Aicher

  “This is really cool,” Tory said at her side. Nigel was inside with Nana, and Lanie was running around in the grass, out of flying puck range with some other kids her age. Exactly who, didn’t matter. They were all having fun and in clear view of their mothers.

  “Yes.” Jacqui grinned, glancing around at the crowd. “It really is.” Henrik had surprised her with his easy acceptance or acquiescence to it all. “I hope he’s okay with how big it got.”

  Tory snorted a laugh. “Like he had much of a choice. But I heard your mom telling multiple people she’d shove them right back out the door if they asked anyone for an autograph.”

  “Oh! Is that your mom manning the kitchen?” A short-haired brunette leaned around Tory, a warm smile on her face.

  “That’s her.”

  “She’s great.” The woman extended a hand. “I’m Kathy, Nodder’s wife. You must be Roller’s latest girlfriend.” The statement flowed out with seemingly little thought of how it might sound. “And one of those kids over there—” she motioned to the children running around the lawn, “—is mine. The other is hanging on the wall down there.” She pointed to the row of boys and two girls standing along the boards, eyes glued to the game.

  Jacqui did a quick mental check to figure out who Nodder was but came up blank. “Aren’t you afraid of the kids getting hit by the puck?” Although the walls were waist-high, there wasn’t Plexiglas to stop high pucks from flying out of the rink. Two nets behind each goal offered protection from wild shots, but that was it.

  “I told them to duck if they see one coming.” Her face was completely serious, and Jacqui had to laugh. Hockey moms learned to live with cuts, bruises and blood. She’d watched her own mother weather it all with similar warnings and a stocked first aid kit.

  Another cheer went up as the blue team raced toward a net. Henrik had even invested in a set of practice jerseys for each team. He’d really thought of everything and what he’d missed, her mother had taken care of. She’d stayed out of the battle of wills when it’d come to paying for the food though.

  Maureen, one of Jacqui’s cousins who was sitting on her other side, leaned in to whisper, “Joe Conners’ wife. Nodder’s his nickname.”

  Oh, right. She shot Maureen a grateful smile. She’d really have to get this down if she stayed with Henrik. If the cancer…

  No. No. No. Not today. Those thoughts were not allowed today. She pushed on the almost constant gnawing burn in her stomach, the action reflexive.

  “I agree,” a woman in front of them turned around to add once the cheering died down. “This is nice. The guys could use more fun stuff like this during the season.”

  “The no-pressure fun,” another added from behind them.

  “I’m still shocked it was Roller who pulled it together,” Kathy said with a smile. A round of laughing agreement came from all around them. The laughs, along with the exaggerated head nods, set Jacqui on edge.

  Her spine straightened, defenses roaring up to suck another piece of her fun away. She looked around at the women who she could only assume were associated with Henrik’s teammates. Did they know she was his girlfriend? Did they care? She was mildly appeased to feel both Tory and her cousin tensing along with her. Henrik was one of theirs now, and her family stuck together.

  “Oh, crap,” Kathy exclaimed, eyes widening. “Please don’t take that the wrong way.” She glanced at the other women, sheepish expressions creeping over their faces. “Really. It’s a nice surprise. He’s usually so…stoic?”

  “Absent?” another supplied.

  “You’re a nice surprise too,” the one in front added, smile warm. “And just ignore us. We’re honestly happy Roller found someone good.” She extended her hand to introduce herself, which was immediately followed by the others chiming in, names and connections flying past Jacqui’s frozen mind. It was overwhelming, and after the short derogatory exchange about Henrik, she wasn’t sure she wanted to remember them.

  Someone good. The statement looped through her mind as the game continued. Was she really someone good? And what did it mean? Did that imply that the rest of his girlfriends had been bad? And why? Who set the criteria for good and bad?

  Ugh. Her brain was starting to hurt. The slow-building throb behind her eye gave her an excuse to escape inside for some pain meds. She paused at the table on the front porch to check the status of the commercial pots of coffee and hot cocoa her mom had borrowed from church.

  The scent of home-cooked food hit her immediately when she stepped inside, followed by the familiar voices of her mother and aunts. She inhaled, relaxing into the release. This was better, even if it was slightly more dangerous. No matter how hard she’d tried to hold Henrik at bay, he’d managed to wind his way into her life and now her family. He’d won her heart and was actively doing the same with everyone in her life, no question there.

  Her chest ached with the longing that’d grown even bigger. If only she was able to give her love freely. If only she could take what he offered without regrets or fear. If only…

  No! She blocked the spiraling thoughts with a forceful jerk of her coat. A portable coat rack had been placed in the entrance, which was already half full of winter gear. She hung her coat in the closet and left her boots there too. The sense of belonging sneaked in to pluck at her doubts again.

  She managed to slip past her family and into Henrik’s room on the hunt for something for her headache. The sight of her stuff tucked in a corner on the counter in the master bath was another little dig at how she’d settled into his life. It’d gone both ways. More than she wanted to admit.

  And what if her test on Tuesday came back positive? What if she was faced with yet another round of chemo and radiation and…

  “Hey, Mom,” she called when she entered the crowded kitchen, two pain pills down and yet to take effect. She glanced at the line of crockpots, casserole dishes and bowls overflowing with food. It was a normal occurrence for family gatherings and more than enough to feed everyone. “This looks and smells great.”

  “There’s more on the bar downstairs,” her mom said, lifting the lid on the pot of soup simmering on the stove. “Did you check on the coffee and cocoa when you came in?”

  “Yes. They’re both fine.”

  “I’ll go check,” one of her aunts said, ignoring Jacqui’s answer. There obviously wasn’t enough for the nine women to do. Not until the game was done anyway. Then they’d all be in their glory serving and ensuring everyone was fed. It was the way their family worked, and Jacqui let the slight pass with a smile.

  “Be careful if you go downstairs,” another aunt cautioned. “There’s gear everywhere.”

  “I lit some candles to counter the smell,” still another jumped in, the cascade of random comments coming in rapid succession.

  “I doubt it’ll make a difference.”

  “Is the fridge stocked down there?”

  “Yes. And the cooler.” This comment held surprise. “He really thought of everything.”

  “He probably would’ve forgotten something if we hadn’t been here.”

  “And he wanted to waste his money on fancy caterers.” Indignation filled that comment.

  “Well, the dishes are nice.”

  Oh, there was another plus for Henrik. Jacqui silently cheered as her aunts’ conversation flew past her, the overlapping dialog a comforting second language for her.

  “And who’s going to be stuck washing all that nice stuff?”

  “The rental company takes it all away and cleans it.” The knowing smirk of superior knowledge from this aunt had Jacqui swallowing a laugh.

  “So, Jacqui.” Oh, shit. All eyes swung to her, predatory joy gleaming in them. “How’d you come to be dating this man?”

  She swallowed.

  “He’s a bit different than I expected for you.”

  “I always thought you’d end up with a musician.”

  Another agreed. “Someone you had more in common with.”

  “
Joan. Nancy,” her mother snapped, coming to her daughter’s defense. “Stop being rude.”

  “I think he’s a very nice man,” another aunt chimed in. “He has to be to open his house like this to people he doesn’t know. That says keeper to me.”

  “Oh, hush. You’re just kissing up to Mary to get that stew recipe she won’t share.”

  “By being nice?” Her aunt grinned, her round face lighting up with a deviousness Jacqui loved. “It works. You should try it.”

  The debate shifted to definitions of nice and recipes and other tangents that came and went faster than most could track. A blessing for Jacqui in this case.

  She snuck a carrot from a tray and slipped into the great room where three cousins were on infant and toddler duty. It was tempting to plop down on a couch and enjoy some baby cuddling, an act she’d always loved before. Now though, the thought brought a stab of jealousy to her chest. Her stomach pitched and twisted and she rubbed a hand over it, hoping the meds would ease that pain too.

  The image of Henrik holding Nigel was still a bittersweet picture that continued to haunt her. Never had she wanted that so badly. A child—their child—in her husband’s arms. A family of her own to love and be loved by.

  Something she still feared she’d never get to have.

  Her gaze lingered on the piano tucked in the far corner. Could she hide behind it? Play away the fear and confusion? It was what she’d done for years and here she was, still lost among her own family. Included yet not.

  Leukemia. The poisonous word had made her an instant anomaly, something to be loved but also pitied. Feared in some cases. She represented exactly what they ran from. Death.

  Some saw life, she knew that. The distinction had always been clear in their eyes. No one had ever damned her though. No one had ever said anything negative aloud to her. But she’d heard the whispers, saw the shaking heads and glances. “This isn’t just about Jacqui…” Yeah, she’d heard those comments.

  She loved her big, encompassing family, appreciated the security and bond and unity it provided.

  But there were times like now, when she wanted nothing more than to run away from them all. And where would she run to?

  Her soft laugh was heavy with self-loathing. There was a set of big, welcoming arms who’d gladly swoop her in and keep her safe. And she was still too damn scared to let Henrik do that. At least completely.

  How did that make her better than any of his ex-girlfriends? Someone good. If she was really that good, she’d let him go. Now. Before the cancer diagnosis came through.

  Her stomach clenched, pain spearing through her gut in a taunting shot of forewarning. One that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Hey.” Henrik snuck up behind Jacqui, arm slipping around her as he dipped to kiss her temple. “Are you okay?” She’d been quiet since he’d come in from playing. But it’d been noisy and busy with everyone changing, showering and chowing down food.

  “Yes.” She twisted to smile up at him, clutching his arm to her chest. “Just keeping out of the fray.”

  He understood that. A glance around the downstairs area showed an array of hockey bags and gear, people and general chaos. This was by far the most people his house had ever had in it.

  “I think everyone’s enjoying themselves.” They looked like they were anyway. A large group was gathered around the flat screen, watching a hockey game. More were playing pool, and others were still digging into the abundance of food. “Your family outdid themselves with the food.”

  Her laugh vibrated against his chest. “It’s their way.”

  “I like it.” He nuzzled into her hair, savoring the quiet closeness of her. It was comforting to have someone to stand on the side with him instead of being dragged into the middle.

  Jacqui leaned into him, head tilting into his. Was this what it was supposed to be like? She apparently had no interest in meeting the others or at least in befriending them, not that she was being rude. That casual indifference she’d said she had about hockey in general was coming through here.

  “You want in, Roller?” Shaffer called, motioning to the game of pool.

  “I’ll pass.”

  The man shrugged, his gaze passing over Jacqui before bending to rack the balls.

  “You can if you want,” Jacqui said.

  “I know. But I don’t want to.”

  “You don’t have to stand here because of me.” Her hard insistence was backed by a jerk forward.

  What? He tightened his hold to keep her from moving out of his arms. Where was this coming from? “Hey.” He urged her to turn until she faced him, a stubborn tilt to her chin, challenge in her eyes. “I’m here because I want to be. With you.”

  She was stiff in his hold. Gone was the relaxed stance of moments ago. “Am I like them? Your other girlfriends?”

  “What? No.” He answered automatically to the fired questions before he tried to catch up. “Wait. Where’s this coming from?”

  “That’s what they’re all assuming though, right?” Her voice was low, meant only for him. This wasn’t about creating a scene or drawing attention to herself. The real hurt that broke through her defiance said it was the opposite. “That I’m controlling you. Made you do this party and whatever.”

  Her sudden anger died then, melting behind closed eyes and slumped shoulders. She leaned forward, head bumping into his chest. Damn. His heart ached for the injustices she was taking because of his past. None of which had to do with her. This was part of the reason why he’d stayed quiet about dating her.

  He cupped her face, eased it up until she opened her eyes.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Me too.” He placed a kiss on her lips, long and reassuring. “For my past and the stupid things I did before I met you. But that’s not on you. You’re nothing like them, which is why I love you so much.”

  And there it was. Out before he could recall the words. The words he didn’t even know he could say, let alone feel before he’d met her. Damn it.

  His heart hammered a cadence too fast to count as he bit his tongue, the action too late to undo his impetuous damage. She wasn’t ready to hear his love—or didn’t want to hear it. He knew that in his gut, and now he’d gone and pushed her when he’d sworn he wouldn’t.

  Her withdrawal happened slowly, one firm curl of her lips at a time. The smile didn’t reach her eyes though, the brown a weak tea shade in comparison to the rich chocolate that usually shone at him. Her grip on his waist loosened, throat working.

  “Hey, Jacqui,” Finn called, bounding down the stairs, oblivious to the tenuous moment he was interrupting.

  Jacqui whipped around, stepping out of Henrik’s arms, grin wide when she faced her brother. “Yes?”

  “Mom wants to know if you’ll play.”

  She swung her head around, brows raised in question. “It’s Henrik’s piano.”

  The fact that she asked him was both a cut and a balm. “Go ahead.” She should know it was okay, but she was also conscious of his past pain regarding it.

  Her smile faltered before she headed for the stairs. He winced at the silent fist that jabbed him in the chest, her escape a validation of his fears. Fuck.

  “Are those guitars for playing?” Finn asked him, motioning upstairs.

  Henrik swallowed, forced his voice to be casual. “Help yourself.”

  “Sweet.” Finn spun around, bounding back up as exuberantly as he’d come down.

  Henrik watched them disappear from sight before heading to the cooler for a beer. The icy bottle numbed his hand but did nothing for his sore heart. What the hell? This whole day would be a disaster if it scared Jacqui away. If he scared her away.

  Exactly the opposite of what he’d hoped for.

  He gulped down a long swallow, enjoying the brief relief the cold alcohol gave. Why in the hell had he let that slip out? Here? Now? He’d known the danger. Had guessed her reaction, despite how close he felt
to her.

  He could almost see her departure plan playing out. Hers would be little bits at first. Her stuff slowly disappearing from his bedroom, then the excuses as to why she couldn’t come over. Last would be the “it’s me, not you” speech before she took off. Yeah, he’d seen that one too.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Henrik lowered his half-emptied bottle and eyed up Dan, the older brother stance clear in his squared shoulders and assessing look. “Yup. Fine.”

  Dan ducked around Henrik to dig a beer out of the cooler.

  “Grab me one, will you, Danno?” Colin asked as he approached.

  “Me too,” Aiden chimed in, right behind him.

  “Great,” Henrik mumbled before he took another drink. “It’s a bad time for another interrogation,” he warned the brothers, letting his glare say as much as his words.

  Colin came up short, smile slipping. “Who said this was an interrogation?”

  The sounds of the piano floated down at that moment, the notes circling to choke Henrik with their haunting beauty. It was only a moment before the strum of the guitar joined them, an older tune easily recognized.

  “I just wanted to thank you,” Aiden said, taking a beer from Dan. “But is there a reason we should be grilling you—again?”

  “Is something wrong?” Dan’s level question grated on Henrik for no real reason.

  “She’s pulling back,” Aiden said quietly, his astute gaze holding Henrik’s.

  He swallowed, glanced away, took another drink. Anything to avoid the question and jabbing pain in his chest.

  “Don’t let her,” Colin said. “She’s just scared.”

  Henrik frowned. His throat had gone dry despite the bottle of liquid he’d just consumed. Silence had always been his best friend and he latched on to it now.