Dominik

by Sawyer Bennett

  “Don’t do it,” I mutter under my breath. We can’t afford the suspensions that will come if they leave the bench.

  The kids from Miller House are going nuts. They are experiencing a rarity indeed… a full-line brawl with even the goalies going at it, and the kids couldn’t be enjoying themselves more.

  Luckily, it’s all over fairly quickly. The four officials move in, somehow managing to break up the fights. To give my guys credit, they seem to realize this could get out of control and cause injuries, which could severely impact our future. Those whose fights have broken up start to pull their teammates out of the fray. The last two combatants to be diffused are Legend and the Demon goalie, who have really only managed to wrestle each other in what I deem to be a display of nothing more than not wanting to be left out of the fun.

  Players are separated, the officials confer, and penalties are issued. The penalty box fills up with each member of the first line who was engaged in the fight, same with the Demons. Legend is given a penalty, but as a goalie, he can’t leave the ice, so another Vengeance player skates over to serve time for him.

  Our second line takes the ice along with the new Demon players, and play resumes.

  “That was intense,” Willow whispers harshly. I realize her fingernails are dug into my arm where she’d been clutching me the entire time that took to play out.

  I gently pry them away and we watch the rest of the game in tense silence, although the crowd in the arena resumes the deafening roar of encouragement for their team. The next few minutes tick by agonizingly slow. The fight seems to have taken the pep out of the Demons’ step for a bit, but when they pull their goalie, they get their momentum back.

  They manage to put three shots on goal while their own net remains empty. Legend is in the zone, though, deflecting two and nabbing the third.

  When the buzzer goes off and we claim the victory, I almost sag against Willow in relief. We are now two games up in this series, and even closer to making the Cup finals.

  I turn to face her, uncaring if any of the kids are watching. My hand goes to the back of her neck, my mouth crashing down on hers.

  I’m thrilled the Vengeance has another victory and we’re now one step closer. I’m ecstatic my Miller House boys had such a phenomenal experience.

  But right now, all I really want is to be with Willow. It’s getting to the point where my best feelings are coming directly from her.

  CHAPTER 21

  Willow

  I resist the urge to open the oven door to check on dinner. Instead, I use the dishcloth in my hand to make another swipe across the countertop of Dominik’s kitchen. It’s already pristine, but I’m expending nervous energy.

  Dropping the cloth in the sink, I peek through the glass door of one of the ovens to note that my potatoes are browning beautifully and will need to come out soon. Perfect timing as our guests will be here any minute.

  I’m not sure what possessed me to do this.

  Agree to Dominik’s request we have my family over to his home for dinner, I mean.

  Actually, I do know what possessed me. It was those damn kids he’d invited from the group home he’d been raised in. That beautiful act of kindness and community had touched me. It didn’t exactly surprise me because I’ve learned Dominik is a giver. But the fact those kids have so much meaning to him and it’s important they have opportunities just made me fall for the guy a lot harder.

  I just wanted to give him something back and I know inviting my parents to dinner was something he not only really wanted to do, but also something he gladly gave up because I just wasn’t ready.

  I guess I want to show him I’m ready—that I can move deeper into this.

  Tonight’s the night and my parents, Dax, and Regan should be here soon. The Vengeance will be on the road to Los Angeles to play the Demons the next two games in the series. We won game three, but they kept the conference finals victory from us in game four in a double-overtime win.

  Just as well. That meant we could come back to Phoenix and win on home ice. That game is tomorrow, and my parents flew in this morning. My sister, Meredith, didn’t come for this one, wanting to save up any vacation days she’d have to use for the Cup finals.

  I hurry over to the sink, starting to reach for the cloth, but Dominik’s voice cuts in, startling me. “Stop wiping the counter. It’s spotless.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” I ask. He’s been sitting on the other side of the kitchen island, watching me be the picture of domesticity while he sips on a bottle of water.

  He seems so casual and relaxed despite the fact he’s way more dressed up than I am. I’m going with jeans and a blouse while he has on a pair of dress pants and a short-sleeved polo.

  He reaches across the counter—a silent demand he wants my hand.

  To hold.

  To reassure me.

  I smile and extend mine, placing my palm against his, and his fingers curl around my hand ever so briefly.

  “Jesus,” he exclaims with a grimace, snatching away from me and hastily wiping his hand on his pant leg. “Your hand is soaking wet with sweat.”

  With a sheepish grin, I wipe my palms on the backside of my jeans. “Sorry… they sweat when I’m nervous.”

  “That’s a medical condition you should probably figure out,” he grumbles. “And it just occurred to me that I haven’t ever been around you when you’re nervous. When I’ve held your hand at playoff games, they’ve always been cool and dry.”

  “What can I say?” I quip as I pick up my own bottle of water from the counter to take a sip. “I’ve got a strong constitution.”

  “Regardless,” he replies dryly, giving me a very pointed look. “Why are you so nervous? This is your family. I should be the nervous one.”

  I tilt my head curiously. “Are you?”

  “Of course I am. I’ve never met another woman’s family before as a means of officially announcing ourselves as a couple.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Dominik chuckles. “Look, Will. I know you have issues, but you must realize… I do, too. Growing up the way I did, it’s not easy to form attachments. I’ve always been a loner by nature.”

  I frown, coming around the island to stand close. With him sitting on a barstool, we’re nearly eye to eye. I take his hand, not caring if mine is damp again. “I’ve never seen you that way. You’re always so generous—so inclusive of your time and energy. You focus on people. You help people. You’re not a loner.”

  Dominik’s hand engulfs mine, his fingers gently squeezing mine. His eyes are soft and understanding at my misunderstanding. “You can do all those things and still be alone. I can do all those things and not depend on others. And I do those things to give me joy, not because people expect it or it’s required of me, which comes with forming relationships. Just like you—when you aren’t committed to anyone personally, you don’t have the burden of failing expectations. So just know… this is out of my element, too.”

  “That makes sense,” I’m forced to admit.

  Dominik releases me only to bring his hand to the nape of my neck. He squeezes, leaning in a bit closer. “Tell me why you’re nervous? Maybe I can fix it for you.”

  I can’t help but smile. One of the things that’s endeared me the most about him is how much he cares for me, and how he doesn’t like to see me ill at ease over anything. He’s the classic protector.

  I inch closer, putting my hands on his shoulders. “Because this is a big step for me. My family saw how hurt I was before, and they’ve been waiting for this. For me to find someone else. Now add on how freaked out they are since they know about my job, they’re all going to come in here with the expectation I’m going to settle down. Probably live in L.A. and have lots of babies with you or something, and never step foot in another foreign land again. I don’t want to disappoint them.”

  Dominik considers this before giving me a sly look. “I think as long as you don’t give them food poisoning tonight,
their expectations are going to be just fine.”

  I exhale a tiny growl of frustration. “I’m serious, Dominik. They want me to be happy, so they’ll be all up in my business about it.”

  “I want that for you, too, you know.”

  “I want it, too,” I assure him. “I want to be happy, and I want you to be happy.”

  “Are you? Right now, besides the fact you’re nervous, do I make you happy?”

  My answer is simple and comes without hesitation. “Yes.”

  His teeth flash in a huge smile. “Now, the big question, Willow… do you trust me not to hurt you?”

  Unfortunately, there’s a bit of hesitation this time, but only so I can pause and reflect on this man I’ve come to know. He’s generous, kind, and genuine. Seeing him with those Miller House boys, and knowing how fucked up he could have been from his background, only solidified for me that he’s a product of his own making and not one of his upbringing. He’s taken his adversity and turned it into a strength.

  The proof is in how he treats me. With care.

  Gentle force.

  Respect.

  And that includes respect of my career. It’s a bone with him, for sure, but he’s backed off because he knows being accepted for who and what I am is important to me. My profession and my determination say a lot about me.

  I smile. “Yeah… I trust you not to hurt me.”

  I really do.

  He takes one of my hands from his shoulder, then brings it to his mouth so he can feather a kiss over the back of it.

  The doorbell rings, alerting us that my family has arrived.

  “Fucking gross,” Dominik mutters, dropping my hand like it’s a hot potato. The mere ringing of the doorbell caused it to immediately dampen with nerves again.

  I giggle and hastily wipe my palms off on my jeans as Dominik rises from the stool. He grins, brushing one more kiss against my forehead before hurrying to let my family into his home.

  ♦

  After hugs and greetings, Dominik, my dad, and Dax disappear into the man cave downstairs while my mom and Regan join me in the kitchen while I finish up dinner. I’m making a beef prime rib with garlic rosemary potatoes and fresh sautéed spinach. I love to cook, but I rarely have the opportunity to make such an extravagant meal. It’s the downside to not owning an actual home.

  Cooking here at Dominik’s and at his house in California is a pleasure because he has it stocked with every appliance, cookware, and apparatus I could possibly want. I may have gone a little heavy on the garlic because his fancy press was simply too much fun.

  Checking the digital thermometer in the prime rib to make sure it has reached the sufficient temperature, I pull it out and let it set while I put the finishing touches on the salad. I sprinkle freshly grated parmesan on the potatoes, then flip the broiler on for a few moments to brown them.

  While I work, Mom and Regan settle in to chitchat regarding Regan’s house-hunting—or lack thereof. I mention the fact they should be talking about a wedding for Regan since Dax wants her to have one, but she thinks it’s silly.

  “Oh, Regan honey,” my mom gushes over her new daughter-in-law, even though she’s known Regan her whole life so she’s more like just a daughter-daughter. “You must have a wedding. You’d make such a beautiful bride, and I would love to see my boy dressed up.”

  I smile as my mom goes straight into planning mode and Regan looks a bit wide-eyed, but she also has a dreamy smile on her face, too. I want her to have a wedding. She lives day in and day out with a life-threatening disease, so she should have the wedding of her dreams.

  And so what if I brought up the subject of the wedding just to make sure my mom’s focus stays on Regan and Dax and comes nowhere near me and my new love life, which I know she’s probably dying to know more about?

  With everything finished and ready to go, I call the men up from the basement and we eat in the kitchen at the breakfast nook that overlooks the backyard. It comfortably seats the six of us, and I’d set it with Dominik’s pretty new plates and cutlery. The noise we make is one of fellowship, and it’s a good sound. Low chatter, forks clinking against plates, and the sound of wine being poured into glasses.

  The immediate talk is focused on the playoffs, every one of us feeling incredibly excited over the possibilities this team has. It’s mostly my dad, Dominik, and Dax dominating the conversation. It’s not that they think us “womenfolk” can’t hold a conversation regarding a sport—it’s just they are far more opinionated than we are, and we’re content to listen to them.

  Again, this is also fine with me since no one is focused on Dominik and me as a couple. There won’t be any embarrassing or probing questions from my parents to put me in the spotlight.

  Somewhere, though, between my dad asking Dominik if he’d ever want to own another sports team and Dax refilling my mom’s wineglass, the attention turns starkly on me.

  My dad shifts in his seat, resting his gaze right on me. “Willow… got any jobs lined up?”

  It’s the first direct mention of my work since we had our “talk” after I returned from the Congo.

  I smile before focusing on my prime rib to cut a succulent piece off, then dip it in the horseradish sauce I’d whipped up earlier. “Not as of yet. My goal is to keep my time free so I can watch the rest of the playoffs, but there also hasn’t been anything interesting enough to pull me away.”

  “And you’d tell us if something was dangerous, right?” he presses, and it goes quiet. Not one single clink of cutlery to plate or a wineglass tapping against the table.

  I sigh as my smile tightens. “Yes. I promised I would.”

  My mom intervenes, her tone placating. “Honey… we’d just like the opportunity to talk to you about a potentially dangerous job before you accept it. We just want to be heard.”

  “But you have been heard,” I say quietly, setting my knife and fork down. “I know exactly how you feel. But any decision to take a job is going to be mine alone. What I will promise is to be transparent about the risks, and I’ll give you information overload on the security I’ll have so you’ll feel better about it.”

  It’s clear from their faces they don’t like this answer. I move my gaze from my parents to Dax, but he just stares back blandly. I have no clue what he’s thinking. If I had to guess, he’s siding with Mom and Dad right now. When I cut my eyes to Regan, her return smile is supportive and sympathetic.

  My dad turns his full attention on Dominik next. “You have a stake in this now, Dominik. What do you think?”

  I narrow my eyes in Dominik’s direction. He doesn’t look at all uncomfortable to have been drawn into what I think might soon become an actual family squabble.

  Does he have a stake in this as my dad suggested? I suppose he has the right to worry, which gives him the right to voice his opinion at least.

  Dominik picks up his glass of wine and takes a small sip, which is obviously a bit of a stall tactic so he can ponder his response. I imagine it’s a move that suits him well in business dealings—mastering the ability to not just blurt out his first thoughts.

  He sets his glass down, looking my dad right in the eye. “Calvin… I have the same exact concerns you and Linda do. I’ve had my chance to talk to Willow about them, so she knows my position. But, at this point, I have to trust that Willow knows what she’s doing. I respect her abilities, and that she’s damn good at her job. I also have to respect she cares enough about us to give equal respect back about our worries. I don’t want Willow to go anywhere remotely dangerous, but if she has adequate protection, then I can’t do anything but support her fully because she’s fulfilling her dreams.”

  It goes so quiet I expect crickets to start chirping. A zing of pure delight courses through me at Dominik’s very public support of me in direct opposition to my parents.

  Despite the fact he absolutely hates that my job puts me in danger, he’s telling me that he fully supports my career.

  It’s a defining moment f
or me.

  It’s when I realize Dominik is worth risking heartbreak for.

  CHAPTER 22

  Dominik

  Admittedly, things have been going a little too smoothly in the playoffs. We wiped the floor with the Seattle Storm, and the Vancouver Flash didn’t put up a much better fight.

  But the Demons are giving us a run for our money, and we’re on the eve of “do or die”. Tomorrow decides our fate on whether we’re able to pull ourselves together as a unified team to take the conference championship or if we go down in infamy as the “team that couldn’t”.

  It’s a sad fact we sort of expected to take game five back in Phoenix, pulling out a conference final victory in front of the home crowd. But the Demons came out swinging hard, and we got our asses kicked 4-2.

  Game six went back to Los Angeles and while it’s a lot harder to win on the road than at home, we felt—as a team—that we’d be able to grab victory by the horns.

  That didn’t happen.

  Once again, the Demons seemed to have some sort of mystical fire lit under their asses, along with decibel-busting fans who made so much noise we could barely hear inside their arena during all three periods. They edged us out of a victory, managing to tie the series up at three games apiece.

  And now we’re back in Phoenix and tomorrow night, we’ll play game seven. Winner goes on to the Cup series… Loser goes on vacation until next season.

  I’m nowhere near ready to go on vacation just yet.

  So, in a final bid to make sure my team is as ready as they’ll ever be, I invited the players, coaches, and their significant others to my home for dinner. When I made the invitation that said “significant other,” I made sure to narrowly define it. It meant their spouse or someone they were close to. I didn’t want to prevent someone like Tacker from bringing Nora, but I didn’t want Wylde showing up with some puck bunny he picked up in a bar the previous night. I also clarified I wanted no other family members there. I wanted it intimate so I could have a final moment with my guys and as far as I’m concerned, the one person who is closest to my players and coaches are as much a part of this team as the ones on the payroll.