Body Check
Page 19
“I could have been. Could have landed on my head. That might not have gone as well.”
His expression grew fierce. “Do not speak of that. Do not even jest about leaving me.”
Was it possible that there was some kind of Hogwarts drug that made you imagine you were hearing everything you wanted to hear?
His expression relaxed and he gripped her hand—maybe a little too hard. It was a good feeling. “Apart from thinking you were dead, I had a lot of time to think on the way here, and some things became clear to me. I know you think that I only want you for the baby. That’s not true. I admit, everything got eclipsed by the thought of the baby. It seemed a miracle—it is a miracle.” He laid a hand on her stomach. “But, Tradd, from New Year’s until we reconnected, I was miserable. You were all I thought about, all I wanted. The baby is the icing on the pie.”
“Cake,” she said. “Icing on the cake. Pies don’t have icing.”
“No matter. I would have grieved if you had lost the baby—but my life would have been over if anything had happened to you.”
“You exaggerate.” Could she believe him? Would he still mean it when all this passed?
“No. I would have continued to breathe and move about, but I was barely hanging on, Tradd. You healed me and I was too stupid to even see it. I know you said our marriage wasn’t going to work, but if you’ll give me a chance, I’ll do better. I won’t be perfect. But I’ll do better.”
Perfect wasn’t necessary, or even desirable. Perfect couldn’t last. Better was the key. Better was always possible, always around the corner.
“I’ll do better, too,” she said.
“You can’t. You are already best.” That made her laugh a little. He was so wrong, but she wasn’t going to disagree with him. What woman didn’t want to be best to the man she loved?
“You aren’t going to tell me you told me so?”
He shook his head. “What happened to you could have happened to anyone.”
“I guess you got your way in the end. I can’t finish the tour.”
“Did the doctor say that?” he asked.
“No. But isn’t it obvious? I can’t even wash my hair or fasten my bra.”
“Dave Grohl fell off the stage and broke his leg during a Foo Fighters concert. He came back one hour later on a stretcher and finished the concert. I know you’re as tough as he is.”
She shook her head. “How do you even know that?”
“I know things. If you want to go home, I’ll take you home. If you want to finish this tour, you will. I’ll stay here with you. I’ll wash your hair. And I think I’ve proven I know my way around your bra.”
She began to cry. It had to be the Harry Potter drugs. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
“You don’t care about the twenty years in the NHL?”
“I’ll settle for twenty years with you. And then another twenty, and twenty more after that. Can you give me a chance?”
She looked at him for a long time—or maybe it just seemed that way because everything around her seemed to be slowing down. And there was the crying getting in the way of talking. “Only if you’ll give me another chance. I haven’t been perfect, either.”
He took a tissue and wiped her nose. Then he lowered her bed rail. “Since we have already admitted we aren’t perfect, we might as well break some rules.”
“I don’t think I’m in any shape to have sex—unless there’s a Hogwarts drug for that.” Her words were muddled together and filled with sleep—and she knew it would be a restful sleep, for the first time in a long time.
He smiled. “I don’t think so.”
“Too bad.”
He laughed. “Soon enough. But tonight, I just have to be with you. The nurse said only a few minutes, and that isn’t going to be nearly long enough.” He crawled in beside her. “And your father can wait to see you in the morning.”
“He’s not going to like that.”
“I don’t care,” Lars said. “After all, he fired me.”
Epilogue
November, Seven Months Later
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Thor settled into his seat at Bridgestone Arena.
As the newly appointed General Manager of The Nashville Sound, there was nothing unusual about that, but tonight it wasn’t hockey that had brought him here.
He was here for the Country Music Association Awards, for which Rita May Sanderson was up for New Artist of the Year.
She was nervous, but you couldn’t tell. He gave her a sidelong look. Earlier, she’d directed him to be attentive to the performers in case he got caught on camera—which had happened several times. But what the hell? He turned and looked at her full on. She was poised and beautiful in her electric blue sequined dress.
She’d worked really hard since the birth of their son to get into that dress, and he intended to get her some nachos after the show. Pickens and Mary Lou would have been here tonight had they not had a much more important engagement—babysitting Maximilian Pickens Lars Eastrom, named for his grandfathers and his father at Tradd’s insistence. She’d said they had to cover all the bases, because there probably wouldn’t be another miracle baby. And that was all right, perfect, in fact. Max was enough, just as being GM was enough—if not perfect.
In the end, The Sound had gone four up and four down in the playoffs and Pickens said he couldn’t let them go. So he’d found another way to cope and offered Thor the job as GM. The two of them had tangled more than once and would again, but Thor always held his ground.
He hadn’t held his ground on the asking price for his house, however. He’d let Jan Voleck have it for a steal. It had been an easy decision. Apparently Jan’s wife had badly wanted the house, and Lars had badly wanted rid of it. Pickens and Mary Lou had hinted at moving into the condo and letting Thor, Tradd, and Max have Greenwood, but it wouldn’t happen for a while, if at all. Everything was just too hectic—but a good hectic. His team was winning, his wife was in demand, and his son was thriving.
“I have to go,” Tradd whispered to him. “I have to change.”
“Good luck.” He gave her hand a squeeze and watched as she was ushered away. Within seconds, a young girl in formal attire took Tradd’s seat. Thor nodded to her and she smiled shyly. Two rows ahead of them, a man slipped into the seat beside Emory Beauford soon after Jackson vacated it.
According to Tradd, it was standard at award shows to send “seat fillers” when stars got up to perform or present. Just like hockey. One man skated toward the bench and, just that fast, another was over the boards.
But Dietrich Wingo would not be coming over Sound boards to take the ice. One of Thor’s first acts as GM had been to trade him for Ryan Oliver. The kid had been upset, but it was all for the best.
But he shouldn’t be thinking about hockey tonight. Tonight was Tradd’s night.
“And up next,” said some guy who Thor was supposed to know but didn’t—is three-time Entertainer of the Year, Jackson Beauford, and New Artist of Year Nominee, Rita May Sanderson, performing their new duo hit ‘What the Heart Won’t Take.’”
And she walked onto stage with Jackson Beauford wearing a white satin outfit sewn all over with jewels in the shape of guitars and musical notes.
He settled back to listen and revel in knowing he would listen to her for the rest of their lives.
THANK YOU!
Thanks for reading this Nashville Sound story. If you want to see how it all got started, check out the first book of the series: Face Off: Emile.
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The novella that gave birth to the Nashville Sound series is part of the Beauford Bend series. It’s a great deal—four full length books and two novell
as for only $.99!
Also by Alicia Hunter Pace
The Nashville Sound Series:
Face Off: Emile (Book 1)
Slap Shot: Bryant (Book 2)
High Stick: Jarrett (Book 3)
Body Check: Thor (Book 4)
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Love Gone South Series:
Sweet Gone South
Scrimmage Gone South
Simple Gone South
Secrets Gone South
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Brothers of Beauford Bend Series
Forgiving Jackson
Nickolai’s Noel
Reforming Gabe
Redeeming Rafe
Heath’s Hope
Healing Beau
* * *
Crossroads Series: Where Merritt meets Beauford Bend
Misbehaving in Merritt
Misunderstood in Merritt
Mistletoed in Merritt
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author
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As Alicia Hunter Pace, Stephanie Jones and Jean Hovey write contemporary romantic comedy and light fantasy with a distinct southern voice.
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Stephanie lives in Jasper, AL, where she teaches fourth grade and wishes for a bigger bookstore. She is a native Alabamian who likes football, civil war history, and people who follow the rules. She is happy to provide a list of said rules to anyone who needs them.
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Jean, a former public librarian, lives in Decatur, AL, with her husband in a hundred-year-old house that always wants something from her. She likes to cook but has discovered the joy of Mrs. Paul's fish fillets since becoming a writer.
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Their book, Sweet Gone South, reached #6 in overall sales on Amazon.
To connect with Alicia online:
www.aliciahunterpace.com
All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Body Check: Thor
Copyright © 2018 by Alicia Hunter Pace