by Lynda Aicher
The back door opened and closed, the scent of grilled meat hitting her a moment later. He moved around her kitchen with the same familiarity that he’d slid into her life. His back was to her, and her gaze lingered on him through the pass-through.
He glanced up, caught her staring and smiled. “I thought you were going to change.”
“I’m getting there.”
His smile faltered before he wiped his hands on a towel and came into the dining area. His gaze went to the computer before it dropped to the floor. “So I, umm...” He rubbed the back of his neck then finally looked up, chest heaving with a large breath. “I booked a flight home for tomorrow.”
The floor fell out from beneath her at that point. She reached blindly for the back of the chair, searching for stability. Her knees were weak, legs twigs that threatened to crumble. She wouldn’t let them though. Fieldings didn’t fall. They held their chins high and marched on.
A cold ache spread through her chest as she wet her lips. “Oh?” A slow release of air kept her voice even. “I hadn’t realized you were planning on returning so soon.”
“Yeah, well—” he passed his hand over his nape in another agitated swipe, “—I need to get back on the ice.”
And there it was. Her eyelids dropped closed and she sucked in a breath to steady her churning stomach. Her hold tightened on the chair, elbow going stiff as she braced herself. His expression was wary, grim yet resolved when she opened her eyes.
“That means you’re going back to hockey, then?” A decision he’d made without her. The abrupt jerk of his chin, lips compressed in a hard line was her answer. The hurt jabbed her heart, twisted then faded away. Her dry laugh held a bitter edge directed at herself. She stared at the wall as acceptance settled in to replace the hope she’d allowed to bloom. “Okay.”
She turned to head upstairs, throat sore with unsaid words and shattered dreams.
“Rachel.”
The raw cut of her name made her pause. There was pain in it. She didn’t want to speculate on the why though. Yet causing it wasn’t something she would be blamed for.
She swallowed and faced him, expression as neutral as she could make it. “Yes?”
The drum of her heart pounding in her ears drowned out everything except his words as the world focused down to the man she’d fallen in love with. After all these years, she’d finally found someone who allowed her to breathe easier, lifted her higher, made the world lighter. And he was leaving.
His steps were slow when he approached, stopping when she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. Weighted with confusion, his furrowed brows over hurting eyes were both soothing and a stab to her heart. “I have to try,” he said, throat working. “I’m one season away from a national championship. That’s all I want.” His insistence hardened his words, yet his touch was light when he cupped the side of her neck. “A chance with the Glaciers. One year. I turned down the other offers.”
One year. In Minnesota.
Her skin seemed to burn beneath his palm, the ache spreading down her chest to merge with her own resolve. She couldn’t knock his dreams or all he’d worked for to achieve his level of success in a hard, grueling sport. There was no way she would ever stand in his way either.
“I understand.” A strange sense of balance weaved through her as the initial shock of his announcement wore off. One she’d sensed coming and had chosen to ignore. She covered his hand with hers, pressing it into her neck. His eyes widened, doubt and confusion still clear. “You have to do what you need to. I can’t fault you for that.”
He inched closer, frown deepening. “You understand? I’m doing this for us. I’m not leaving you, Rach. I still want to be with you. Build a future with you.”
God. If that was true then he should’ve talked to her about it. The sharp jab to her chest was a physical blow to her will. “Do you really think you can skate without the pain meds?”
“I feel great.” Honest insistence blazed in his eyes, but he hadn’t answered her question. “I need to get back in the game. Show them I can still play.” She bit her tongue against her doubts. He didn’t want to hear them, and she refused to give him one more thing to prove. He wet his lips, voice dropping. “Hockey is my life.”
The knife in her heart twisted. His bleak confession revealed so much. She’d never been so grateful for her military upbringing and her father’s demanding belief that emotional displays equated to weakness. She plastered on a firm smile she didn’t feel and nodded.
“I get it.” She congratulated herself on her gentle tone. But she did get it. Oddly, she wasn’t really mad either. Anger wouldn’t change his mind or get what she wanted. She stepped back, grasping his hand as it slid from her neck. She gave it a squeeze. “We have that dinner tonight that I need to get ready for.” She hesitated. “You still want to go?”
“Do you?”
No. Not when her heart was breaking, but it’d be better than spending the entire night alone with him, knowing he’d be gone tomorrow. “Sure. They’re usually pretty fun.” Tonight would be fine. It was the next one when she showed up alone again that would suck.
She let his hand go, a part of her falling away with the loss of his touch. One piece at a time. That was how she’d survive. Let go in bits so it didn’t overwhelm her. She’d learned that every time her family had packed up and headed to a new base when she was growing up.
There went the security. It was always the first to go. As fictitious as it was, she still searched for it in others and only trusted it in herself.
Her tread was heavy as she climbed the stairs. She doubted she’d be able to look at her bed again, let alone crawl into it, without thinking of him. Missing him. The hours spent making love and waking up cocooned in his arms were too many to count. False security, that was all it’d been.
With a shake of her head, she slipped off her shoes and headed to the bathroom. A quick shower was all she needed before they headed out. Time to clear her mind and reset her expectations. Ones she’d had no right to define in the first place. She’d known better and had done it anyway.
She’d just finished rinsing the soap off her body when she heard the door crack open. A draft of cooler air rushed past the shower curtain in another hint of what was next. A sad smile curled over her lips, her dragging heart clutching at the last moments with him.
“Are you coming in?” she asked over the drone of the water. This was another part of their routine she’d come to expect and liked too much. Slow afternoon shower sex had a way of wiping away all the angst of the day.
The curtain scraped back on the rod, Scott stepping through a second later. “There’s no way I’d miss out on this.”
She was wrapped up in his arms, his lips on hers, slick skin over skin before she could respond. She didn’t want to miss this either, and that almost killed her. She was going to miss it like crazy when it was done.
But she was going to miss him more.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scott leaned on the rail and took in the small group of people sitting around the spacious deck. Mature trees provided plenty of shading across most of the deck and half the backyard. A surprisingly large number of kids ranging in age from barely walking to six or seven ran around the lawn and made use of the multi-tiered wooden play center near the back fence.
It reminded him of gatherings at his sister’s place, only there was a lake at the end of his sister’s yard. But the close friends, mixed families and an evening of food, drinks and laughter were familiar. The comfort of it soothed through him to remind him of things he’d missed and surprisingly wanted, but had suppressed for way too many years.
And there came the stomach cramp—again. The pain had hopscotched between his chest and gut all night. Ever since he’d told Rachel he was leaving tomorrow.
Damn it. He slugged back a gulp of water from the bottle he clenched, wishing it was something stronger. He could indulge in a beer now that he was off the pain pills. His skin buzzed w
ith the temptation. Lured by the temporary reprieve it’d give.
As tempting as it was, it’d solve nothing. He’d still be leaving, and Rachel would be here.
His gaze found her inside, her image distorted by the glare on the windows. She was talking to a friend, arms animated. She’d been gracious and outgoing with everyone without excluding him or being awkward. But he’d caught her subdued smiles and forced laughter.
She was hurting behind her strong front. And damn if he didn’t admire her will to hide it, even while it killed him to know he was the cause of her pain. He’d make this work though. Show her he was still committed to her and to staying drug-free. Hockey didn’t change any of that. He just needed time to prove it to her.
The sun was on the way down. The food had been served, perishables stored back inside and the majority of the adults were well into their third or fourth glass of wine or bottle of beer. Most of the people had known each other since college, or at least half of the couples had. And everyone was part of a couple. As far as he could sort out, Rachel was the only single, childless one in the group.
He’d caught the surprised brow raises and questioning tones when Rachel had introduced him around. The speculation she’d ignored and he’d internally cringed at. She’d left out his profession and last name, and no one had made a single comment about hockey the entire night. It was freeing to simply be Rachel’s boyfriend, Scott.
A rather large guy with a distinct belly and graying hair ambled up to settle into the rail space next to Scott. His round face was amplified by his second chin and the welcoming smile stretched across it. “Are you enjoying yourself?” the man asked, gaze scanning the deck then lawn.
Bubbling child laughter and calls drifted into the darkening sky, bringing long ago memories from his own childhood.
“Yeah,” Scott answered honestly. Marshal, if he remembered the name correctly, was attached to a woman named Connie, who’d claimed to be Rachel’s best friend when they were introduced and was currently talking with Rachel inside. “It’s been nice.”
The guy turned to Scott, hand extended. “I’m Marshal, by the way. I’m shit with names and can’t remember any when twenty of them are tossed at me at once.”
Scott laughed. “Scott.” He shook the man’s hand, sizing up the firm grip that thankfully wasn’t challenging while silently congratulating himself on getting Marshal’s name right. Part of his job as team captain had included attending social functions and press conferences for the Glaciers. Recalling names was part of being personable and establishing a good image for the team. “It’s remembering who’s with who that screws me up.”
Marshal’s robust laughter caught the eye of several people.
“Don’t you dare scare that man off,” one of the drunker women with black hair and matching framed glasses called out. “Rachel’s running out of time to find another one.”
The burst of laughter from the collected group had Scott straightening from the rail. The tone of the comment came across as bitchy. Like Rachel was the butt of a joke she had no knowledge of.
His gaze shot to the sliding glass doors, which were closed against the heat. Had she heard? Did she know her supposed friends made fun of her single status? Like it was a bad thing.
“Don’t let them bug you,” Marshal said, nudging Scott’s arm. “They’re all drunk and have nothing better to do than to mock the one person who’s not locked down by a husband and kids.”
Locked down. Wow. Was that really how they saw it?
He laid on his practice charm, smiling at the woman who’d made the comment. “Maybe she hasn’t been looking,” he said, voice light but even. “Not all women need a man to be happy.” He raised a brow, his challenge subtly laid down. These were Rachel’s friends and he didn’t want to ostracize them, but he couldn’t stand back and let them make fun of her. Especially for something that was petty and none of their business.
There was a short, stunned silence as the woman blinked at him, and the others sat back, heads swiveling between them. A few, including Marshal, hid their smiles behind their drinks. Scott kept his gaze on glasses girl—Lynn, he was pretty certain—and waited her out.
Eventually a thin, curly-haired woman burst into laughter. She covered her mouth and leaned into her husband, shoulders shaking. “He got you, Lynn,” she said around choked giggles. “An MRS degree was never in Rachel’s plans, unlike yours.”
Lynn rolled her eyes and waved them off, chuckling. “True.” She raised her glass in salute. “Here’s to happiness without men.” This had all the women raising their glasses, heartfelt “Hear! Hear!” following.
“Wait a minute,” Lynn’s husband objected as he leaned over the back of her chair to look down on her. “I do believe we men are useful for something.” He thrust his hips in a lewd fashion that had Lynn rolling her eyes again, head shaking.
“Sure thing, honey,” she said, turning to pat his hip in a placating gesture. “I just keep Bob as a backup.”
Another burst of laughter rang over the group, and Scott settled back into his position on the deck rail. His shoulders dropped as their conversation switched to battery operated boyfriends and other sexual inferences that were apparently funnier to the inebriated.
“Nice one,” Marshal said, voice lowered. “Lynn gets bitchy around her third glass of wine. We’re all used to it, but you handled that like a pro.”
Like the name thing, dealing with sharped-tongued media and fans with grace was all part of Scott’s job—or had been. Shit. What was he going to do if the Glaciers wouldn’t take him back? Would the happiness he found here being just Rachel’s boyfriend really last if he had nothing else to contribute to their relationship?
Fuck. He shook off the errant train of thoughts and shrugged away Marshal’s praise. “It’s all about perceptions, isn’t? Do we really have to be attached to someone to be happy, or is it a societal conception carried over from a time when being alone equated to death?”
Marshals bushy brows winged up on his large forehead, bottle stalling on its way to his mouth. “I am definitely not drunk enough for that conversation.”
Scott laughed, letting the man off the hook. “Cheers to that.” He held up his water bottle, and Marshal tapped it with his beer bottle before emptying it.
“So what did you say you did again?” Marshal frowned, studying Scott.
He’d managed to duck that question all night by sticking to the truth. “I’m actually between jobs right now.” Hopefully not for long, though.
“Oh.” Marshal nodded, an understanding sympathy compressing over his features. “Damn economy. What are you looking for? Maybe I know of something around here.” His glance of speculation picked at Scott’s pride. He wasn’t a damn mooch living off Rachel, but defending himself would create more issues and questions he’d rather avoid. Especially for Rachel.
Without discussing it beforehand, he and Rachel had gone with the truth about how they’d met in Minnesota at a wedding. That he was there visiting. The omissions were huge, but there’d been no direct lies so far.
Like his leaving tomorrow. He hadn’t wanted to ruin her night by bringing it up earlier but he couldn’t have hidden it from her either.
Scott took a drink to gather his thoughts before he answered. “Thanks. But right now I’m just enjoying the time off.” That was true too. It was important to him that he kept his promise to Rachel about lying. That included to others as well. One false truth could be all it took to slip into old habits. He’d talked to his therapist extensively about that.
The high-pitched cry from the yard had everyone turning at once.
Marshal was already moving before a woeful moan of “Daddy!” came from a little girl in messy pigtails and a grass-stained yellow dress. Big crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks, visible in the fading light before Marshal swooped her up, tucking her head on his big shoulder.
Scott’s heart skipped then raced at the innocent sight. The little girl couldn’t be mo
re than three, and her complete love and trust in her father to cure her hurt was endearing. He loved his nephews beyond thought. How would he feel about his own children? He’d never pondered that for long because it’d never been a part of his future.
But now? With Rachel in his life, could it be?
At least he could physically do it now. He muffled his sarcastic bark of laughter against the back of his hand. Right. Who the fuck knew if his swimmers were still functioning after their prolonged hibernation? It was possible the drugs had fucked them up too.
Marshal came back to the deck, his sniffling daughter curled in his arms. She looked so tiny next to the man’s girth.
“Everything okay?” he asked as Marshal leaned on the rail. The post gave a warning creak that had Scott shifting his weight off it.
“Yeah,” Marshal said, kissing the top of his daughter’s head. He rubbed her hitching back in a soothing motion. “She’ll be fine. Just scraped her knee a bit.”
Her thumb was tucked into her mouth, eyes drooping as she calmed. There was no denying the pang of longing that struck his chest and stole his breath. How had he not realized how much he wanted that right there? His child falling asleep in his arms?
“Good,” he managed to say.
“Everything is more dramatic after bedtime, which passed over an hour ago.”
Scott chuckled, nodding. He knew that from his nephews. Would he have a niece soon? His sister was due in a few weeks. Three kids to his zero. That had never bothered him until now.
“Do you have more kids?” he asked, to keep the conversation going.
“Not yet,” Marshal said. “But we’re working on another. We always said we’d have two if we had one.” He glanced down at his daughter, who was almost asleep now, her eyes flickering closed on longer and longer intervals. “It’s probably a good thing we decided that before having one, or we might’ve changed our minds.”
“That rough, is it?” Children were a huge responsibility and one gigantic step into undefined territory.