Benched

by Elise Faber

  “Come in,” Diane said, gesturing Brit forward. “Oh Lord, I’m a mess.” She patted her hair. “But never mind that. You’re Brit, and you’re even prettier in person!”

  Brit, not completely comfortable with such compliments, gave an awkward shrug. “Um . . .”

  Diane raised her hand, and Brit found herself taking it . . . then being tugged down into a hug. “You’re supposed to say thank you when someone pays you a compliment.”

  “Mom,” Stefan warned.

  “I’m only stating the truth.”

  Brit snorted, and Diane glanced at her, gave a wink. “Now go get your woman a coffee. And don’t come back for at least twenty minutes. We need to chat.”

  Stefan shook his head. “I don’t think—”

  “It’s okay,” Brit said.

  He hesitated.

  “Go on,” she told him. “But water, not coffee, please.” She couldn’t stand the disgusting stuff.

  Diane patted her hand. “Oh, we’re going to get on just fine. I know it.”

  The glee in Diane’s voice made Brit smile. It widened when Stefan gave a groan. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” he asked.

  “Loads.” Brit retracted her hand from Diane’s surprisingly strong grip, stood, and pecked him on the cheek. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Now leave me to endure the third degree.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “Shh,” she said. “I’m kidding.“ Well, not about the interrogation—there was no way out of it, that much was obvious—but about his mother. Brit had expected a quiet, reserved, middle-aged woman.

  Diane was anything but.

  Her presence filled the room, though it wasn’t overbearing. Instead, she lit up the space, warmed it in that special charismatic way usually reserved for politicians and celebrity royalty.

  It both calmed and unnerved. But Brit was determined to get along with Diane, if only for Stefan’s sake.

  And, considering the affection in her eyes when Diane looked at her son, that wasn’t going to be difficult.

  They had at least one huge thing in common.

  They both loved Stefan.

  When the man himself had left, Brit turned to Diane and raised a brow. “You have questions?”

  The other woman’s reply was solemn. “Only about a million or two.”

  They were quiet for half a second then burst into laughter.

  “You’re the first girl Stefan’s ever brought . . . well, not home exactly,” Diane said, once they’d gotten ahold of themselves. She rolled her eyes at the hospital room and its equipment crammed in along the walls. “You’re the first woman I’ve met that he’s dated.” A pause. “Ever.”

  “Ever?”

  Brit didn’t know whether to be freaked the hell out by the statement—the pressure!—or touched.

  “Ever,” Diane repeated. “I only knew he wasn’t a complete recluse because of the pictures on TMZ. But half of that site is utter crap, so really I only knew that he isn’t half a recluse.” She frowned at Brit. “Why do you look so perplexed?”

  Brit tugged a chair over and sat down before answering. “I guess I’m wondering what your point is.” She mentally groaned and clapped a hand over her mouth only peeling back her fingers slightly to say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that—”

  “Shh, honey. I know what you mean.” Diane smiled, even as she laid her head back onto the pillow. Her face softened, the confident mask slipping slightly to reveal someone who was tired and perhaps a little scared. “My point is my son started living when you came into his life.”

  The impact of that statement took Brit’s breath away.

  “He’s had a hard time since—” Diane sighed. “Well, he just hasn’t had the easiest time, and now with this damn cancer coming back, I could just feel him slipping farther and farther away. Not feeling. Putting all of his energy into hockey and me.”

  Her eyes whipped up to meet Brit’s, slightly glassy in the fluorescent lighting. “I don’t want him to live like that, to be a robot who doesn’t feel. I want him to be happy, and you seem to be able to break through the ice better than most.”

  Brit turned Diane’s words over in her mind. They confirmed what Mandy had told her before, what she’d already sensed.

  “Stefan’s dad called this morning,” she said. Brit didn’t exactly mean it as a test, but it kind of felt like one.

  Diane’s breath hitched. “Oh?”

  “Stefan told me what happened.”

  The lines of tension eased from Diane’s body. Passed. “So you understand.”

  Brit nodded. “I understand.”

  She did.

  Stefan’s life had been rocked as a teenager. He’d almost been torn from his mom, from everything that was familiar in an act of betrayal by someone who was supposed to love him unconditionally.

  “And what about your health?” she asked.

  Stefan’s mom gave a tired smile. “Surprisingly, despite my current surroundings, they think I’ll be fine. I was diagnosed at an earlier stage but, since it’s the second time, my treatment is much more aggressive than before.” She sighed. “My doctors back in Minnesota weren’t bad at all—they saved my life—but they didn’t have access to the same type of medical advances as here in the Bay Area. My prognosis is very good.”

  “I’m glad,” Brit said.

  “Me too,” Diane replied before giving her an arch look. “I want to be around for my grandchildren.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  That night, Brit took the red eye to join the Gold in Philadelphia. She went straight from the airport to morning skate, more than happy to be back on the ice.

  Julian had the start, but since they were playing back-to-back again, Brit would get to play the next night in Boston.

  He sat down next to her in the locker room after the skate. “Barie?”

  “His mom will be okay,” she said, hoping it was the truth, that Diane’s determination to beat the cancer would make that outcome a reality. “Just threw him, I think.”

  “Yeah. It’s a tough one.” Sighing, Julian stood and put on his suit jacket. “Gotta go. My kids are here for the game. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Will do,” she said. “Have fun.”

  After he left, Brit sat in the emptying locker room for a few more minutes before forcing herself to finish dressing. There had been nothing from Susan or the rest of management since she’d sent the text saying she was done.

  Sooner or later, there would be consequences for her defiance.

  But maybe because she was still seeing Stefan, they wouldn’t care. It was what they wanted, after all.

  Somehow that didn’t make Brit feel better.

  The entire situation could implode in a hundred different ways—so many more than she’d worried about before she’d originally agreed to the mess.

  Brit had a contract, but the higher ups could still trade her.

  Or . . . they could release the pictures.

  That was probably the worst of it, at least from her perspective.

  Those photographs represented a part of her she never wanted to face again, and yet they could be all over the world in a matter of minutes.

  Unfortunately, Brit knew that Susan wouldn’t hesitate to use them to get what she wanted.

  For now Brit was still giving her what she wanted. Kind of. Her relationship with Stefan was in the local news, had been picked up by a national market or two, and attendance at Gold games was higher than ever.

  But—and here was the piece that nagged at Brit—what would Susan do now that Brit had tried to yank the reins back?

  Susan wasn’t the type to take a power struggle lying down, and, not for the first time, Brit wondered if she’d made a mistake.

  She snorted, bent to zip up her boots. Of course she’d made a mistake. A fucking huge one, agreeing to the deception in the first place.

  Yet a part of her couldn
’t ignore the fact that she probably wouldn’t have made the leap with Stefan, if not for Susan’s interference.

  She stood and picked up her bag. The tap on her shoulder made her jump, but though her heart skipped a beat, and her tongue went dry, Brit didn’t freak out by the man coming up behind her. If nothing else, if—no—probably when this situation blew up in her face, she could at least say that she’d bettered herself in that slight way.

  “Brit?”

  Mike Stewart’s tentative question made her brows rise.

  She turned, glanced up at him. His usual smirk wasn’t in place.

  “What’s up, Mike?”

  “I—” He’d never looked so unsure, so insecure. “Can we walk?”

  “Walk?”

  “Yes,” he said. “You and me, go for a walk.”

  Her recalcitrance must have been obvious because Mike blew out a breath.

  “Look, I’m trying to apologize here, okay?” he snapped.

  “You are?”

  “Yes.” The words were ground out.

  Brit gave him a beatific smile. Okay, it was tinged with a little mischievousness. “For what?”

  “Oh my God,” Stewart said. “Please, just walk with me for five minutes.”

  She paused to make him sweat it a little bit. Her shoulder had hurt like a bitch, and though she’d seen improvement in his attitude since he and Stefan had skated together in the ladder-drill-from-hell a few weeks back, it wasn’t like he was Little Ms. Sunshine.

  “Please,” he said again.

  She sighed. “Fine.”

  He held the door open then walked out behind her. “You heading to the hotel?”

  She nodded. “Gonna catch some rest before the game.”

  “Good,” he said. Then nothing.

  They walked out of the arena and to the hotel, since it was only a few blocks away.

  “You’re wasting your five minutes,” she told him about a block in, the wind gusting around them, the sound of traffic a distinct roar in the background.

  Stewart sighed. “I find now that I’m here, it’s harder than I thought.”

  “Apologies are never easy,” she agreed.

  “I was a dick.” Eyes on the concrete, he kicked at a pile of leaves in their path. “A really big one.”

  “Yup,” she said.

  But it was easier knowing that Mike felt some remorse, instead of thinking he was some sort of sadistic bastard who liked to prey on woman and start shit on hockey teams.

  And for all the silent-male routine he was pulling now, his eyes were alight with contriteness.

  “You really were,” she added when no more words came.

  His lips twitched, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Agreed.”

  “So . . . you gonna tell me why?”

  “Why I’m a dick to everyone, or was one to you in particular?”

  Brit tilted her head to look up at him. “Both, I guess.”

  A breeze kicked up, cold enough that she pulled her jacket tighter around her. California had thinned her blood, made her a wimp about the temperature.

  “Well, I’m a dick to everyone because that’s who I am.” He ran a hand over his stubbled cheek. “But I was a particular dick to you because . . .”

  “I’m a girl?” she supplied. It wasn’t that much of a stretch.

  “God!” Mike laughed, a sharp, harsh sound. “That makes me sound even more like a dick.”

  “If the shoe fits,” she muttered.

  He glanced down at her. His expression was mostly amused, but there was something underneath—a chink in his supposed armor?—that undermined the tough exterior of his words.

  “I’m going to do better,” he said, and his voice took on an earnest tone. “When I’d realized what I’d done, how far I’d sunk . . .”

  Mike stopped, snagged her hand, and tugged her to a halt next to him. “Hell, I could have really hurt you. Then Barie stepped in and dragged my ass across the fucking ice during that damn ladder drill because I’d been punished like a twelve-year-old boy.” He frowned. “He didn’t have to do that. He’s too . . .”

  “Too good?” Brit tried to bite back her smile. Stefan was a good captain and an even better man. She’d never seen him do the wrong thing.

  He especially didn’t do the wrong thing just because it was easier.

  “Exactly.” Stewart dropped her hand and starting walking again. She trailed next to him. “He always used to rub me the wrong way, like he was trying too hard to be everyone’s friend, to ingratiate himself. Now, I realize he’s just like that.”

  Brit chuckled as she approached to the hotel door and pulled it open. “He is,” she said, stepping through. “I don’t think you’ll ever meet a more genuine guy.”

  “I’d say you haven’t known him long enough to make that judgment,” Stewart grumbled, “but it’s the damn truth.”

  They walked to the elevators then hit the buttons for their rooms. Typically, the team took over a floor or two. This time, they were split onto two, Brit on the sixth and Stewart on the fifth.

  As they went up, she said, “So that was your apology? You break a cardinal rule in hockey, and I don’t even get an out-and-out sorry?”

  She had the pleasure of seeing him stammer before deciding to let him off the hook. “We’re good,” she said.

  His head swiveled toward her, and she raised both hands in surrender. “I swear. We’re fine, but take it easy on Stefan, okay? He’s had a rough go of it.”

  “I will.” The door slid open with a ding, and Stewart made to step off before hesitating. “His mom?”

  “Should be okay.”

  Stewart nodded, pushed back the elevator doors when they tried to close. “I’m going to be better,” he said. “For the first time in my life, I refuse to fuck up a good thing.”

  Brit smiled at him, feeling another piece settle into its rightful place inside her heart. Stewart was notorious for his poor attitude. He was good, more skilled on the ice than most, but he’d never been a team player.

  Maybe that was about to change.

  “As cheesy as it sounds, Stewart,” she said, “I believe in you.”

  His eyes warmed, and the smile he returned was surprising—laced with emotion and almost gentle. “Thanks, Brit. See you later.”

  She nodded, let the doors close, and rode up to her floor. Less than five minutes later, she’d texted Stefan and changed into her jammies.

  His response made her heart feel as though it were filled to bursting with helium.

  Miss you. Are you all right with how things went?

  He wasn’t referring to the red eye or the morning skate.

  Feeling pretty fantabulous myself. You?

  Not even a question. Can’t wait to see you. I find that my life feels so much more complete when you’re near.

  Aw. Those words ensnared her heart further. The man was lethal. In a good way.

  In the best way.

  Her phone buzzed again.

  Rest up for the game. I’ll be watching.

  ****

  Brit’s phone rang early the next morning, and, hardly awake, she picked up.

  “Do I need to ask Mr. Barie his intentions?” Allison’s voice was chipper, way too much so for Brit, who hadn’t gone to bed until after midnight.

  She grunted and rolled over, trying to clear the sleep from her brain. “How are you, Allison?”

  “Good,” Blane’s mother replied. “I’m just worried about my favorite daughter is all.”

  “You don’t have any daughters,” Brit said, sitting up.

  “Pish. I’ve got one very special one—if not in blood then in heart.” Allison’s tone took on a serious edge. “And one who I’m slightly worried is going to get her heart broken.”

  “Stefan’s a good man,” Brit said. “The best kind.”

  “Then I’m happy for you, sweetheart. You deserve it.” A beat then, “Okay,
enough sappy stuff. For now, give me all of the locker room gossip. All of the dirt I can’t get from my sources at the Bureau.”

  Brit obliged and listened when Allison returned the favor with family gossip. Blane was the only one of the brothers to make it into the NHL. Two of the others had been successful in the AHL, and one was a college professor.

  “I’m glad the boys are doing well,” she said before they hung up. “I’ll try to squeeze in a visit the next time Dan is home.”

  “You don’t worry about us, honey. Concentrate on playing well. We’ll catch up once you’re not so busy.”

  Allison had always been just like that, Brit thought later as she readied herself to take the ice. She understood the game and its demands, and not once had she faulted Brit for going after her dreams.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Stefan

  Three days later, Stefan exited his room and headed for the elevator.

  Brit was waiting for him.

  Well, that particular part was a surprise, since she didn’t actually know he was back.

  He’d only just arrived in New York and dropped his bags in his hotel room. His mom was home from the hospital and settled, a nurse staying with her for the foreseeable future.

  Management had been more than lenient with him—letting him miss four games at a critical part of the season, when the team was just starting to gel. But Stefan was the captain and knew he’d needed to get back to the team.

  As hard as it had been to leave his mom, he’d gotten on the plane. Their lives needed to get back to normal, for both his mother’s and his sanity, which meant he’d had to trust in the care they’d put in place.

  So he was back with the team and, since tomorrow was an off day, he was going to kidnap Brit for the night then try and talk his way into her room.

  It was way better sleeping with her wrapped in his arms than sitting in a dark room all alone.

  Stefan smiled as he rode the elevator up a floor and thought of what her face would look like when he’d sweet-talk her.

  It wasn’t even the sex—though God knew that had been fan-fucking-tastic—but because Brit had a huge heart. He’d seen it. His mom had seen it. The entire team knew it.