by Amy Olle
Another man walked up behind Fat Tongue and clapped the creep on the shoulder. “Dude, relax. That’s Jack Nolan.”
Fat Tongue’s face fell.
Another buddy appeared and pushed his way in front of Jack. “How the hell are you, man? Hey, great game the other night.”
Haven rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “Are you kidding me?”
Jack took her by the elbow. “Excuse us, fellas.”
She twisted around as Jack dragged along. “Next time, use a little less tongue,” she called over her shoulder. “That was sloppy.”
Out on the sidewalk, Jack hauled her down the street while his anger slashed and ripped at his chest. As though a jagged shard of broken glass, it hacked and punctured. He dragged her around a corner, and a few yards down the darkened alley, she yanked her arm free of his grip to whirl on him.
“Why did you do that?” The anguish in her voice destroyed him. “Everyone’s going to think—”
“Why did you let him touch you?” He closed the distance between them in two strides and his hands smacked the wall on either side of her head, pinning her between his arms.
He wanted to scrub that man’s touch from her body.
He reached for the hem of her skirt and tugged roughly. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
She threw her arms around his neck and gasped as he exposed her heated flesh to the cold air.
“He doesn’t love you.” Pulling aside the crotch of panties, Jack quested for the heart of her. He found her humid flesh open and wet, ready for the invasion of his fingers. “He doesn’t know your heart, or the taste of your sweet pussy.”
On a sob, she clutched fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him to her while he stroked her hungry opening. Tears streamed down her face and he kissed them away.
“No one knows those things, Haven.” He freed himself and pressed his throbbing cock to her warm hollow. “No one knows you like I do.”
Gripping her bottom, he lifted her and her legs came around his waist. He pushed inside her. A guttural groan tore from his chest.
He started to pump, his hips pinning her against the wall. “No one knows what your body craves the way I do.”
She squeezed him with her arms and legs, and her forehead dropped to his shoulder.
“No one but me.” His voice rasped with his desire as he slid all the way inside her and back out, before plunging into her again. “Only me.”
With all the fierceness and desperation colliding inside him, he drove into her in a storm of lust and anger and heartache until each thrust pulled a savage moan from her.
If anyone were to discover them, they’d see two people fucking. They’d see only the carnal possession, the gritty, greedy quest of two bodies striving for connection and release. They wouldn’t feel the tempest of emotions their joining whipped up. Longing and fear, arousal and anguish.
They wouldn’t know how his heart called out to hers, begging for her surrender.
“Why?” He plunged again, and again. “Haven, why?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.” Heartbreak filled her voice as she ground her hips against him. “It could be him, or someone else. It doesn’t matter, Jack, if it isn’t you.”
A sob wrenched from him.
She cried out with her release, and when her quivering center milked the orgasm from his body, she took his heart as well.
They remained entwined while their breathing slowed, her body clamped around him and her head lolling on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He laid his arm over her head and kissed her moist temple.
His heart bleeding.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sitting at her dad’s desk, Haven blinked at the date on the calendar. That morning, her dad flew home from California with plans to resume his duties as the Renegades’ owner and president immediately.
She’d served her sixty days, and in a matter of hours, she’d be free.
The pang in her chest was relief. What else could it be?
It wasn’t her misery over Jack. That sat like a heavy pit in the bottom of her stomach.
After what had happened in the alley two days before, he’d taken her home to Hamilton Place, but when they stumbled into a couple of his teammates in the lobby, she’d slipped away and returned to the penthouse alone. She’d been too shaken to talk anyway, and Jack must’ve felt similarly, as he didn’t come to her that night.
The next morning, the team had left on a road trip.
Now, unable to focus her mind, she slipped another paperclip onto the growing length of chain.
Her phone rang and she picked up the receiver.
“Neal Thompson’s on the line for you,” Mel said.
Haven straightened. “What does he want?”
“To… talk to you.”
Haven worried her bottom lip. “Any chance Darby is here?”
“Mr. Thompson asked for you specifically.”
“Oh. Okay.” Haven’s heart fluttered with light, frantic beats. “Hello?”
“Ms. Callahan, this is Neal Thompson. I’m sorry to bother you. I know how busy you must be.”
She pushed the paperclip chain away. “It’s no problem. What can I do for you?”
“Not a thing. I just wanted to call and tell you I think you’ve done a great job for your dad. I’m impressed with the way you’ve gotten your team to perform.”
“Uh… thank you.”
“And….” After a brief pause, Neal’s deep baritone carried through the phone. “Well, I can only imagine how difficult it’s been for you. Just know, those of us who understand the job, we know what you’ve accomplished over there.” He laughed softly. “And we know we probably wouldn’t have been able to pull it off. Kudos to you, Ms. Callahan.”
She sat motionless and mute, unable to comprehend his words.
“That’s all I have for you. I’ll let you get back to your busy day.”
“Wait.” The word flew from her heart.
He waited.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. What did she want to say?
Jack. She wanted to ask him about Jack. She wanted to know everything about him.
What was he like as a teenager? Is your daughter in love with him? Is he in love with your daughter? Because I am in love with him. I just thought you should know that.
She was in love with him. The knowledge sloped through her like a warm southerly breeze after the harsh winter.
She recalled the look on Jack’s face when he spoke about the man who’d become like a father to him. Reverent, but with a touch of vulnerability, as though he feared he might one day say or do something to spoil the man’s good favor. Jack needed Neal in his life, the same way a child needed the affection of a parent.
The same way she’d needed affection from her parents, who, instead, had withdrawn into their own pain after Ryan’s death.
Jack deserved all the love that existed in the entire universe. He did. He deserved her love, too. She wouldn’t berate herself anymore for giving it to him.
But she knew herself, and while she was surprised to realize her heart hadn’t died along with her brother that day on a country road in Wisconsin, it had been severely wounded.
And now, so many years later, her heart remained damaged. Disordered. It still beat and pushed blood through her veins, but it had trouble processing properly, and everything that should’ve been clear and straightforward was instead backward and out of order.
She and her dyslexic heart were simply not capable of giving Jack Nolan all the love in all the world, which was nothing less than he deserved.
It was bittersweet, her love for him. Like the wound and the balm at once.
“If you have a moment, Mr. Thompson, I wanted to talk to you… about Jack Nolan.”
The Renegades traveled to Minnesota for a prime-time matchup on Saturday night and returned to Milwaukee to play host to Detroit for a Sunday afternoon puck drop.
The compressed game tim
es on top of the travel conspired against the Renegades and they came out flat in the first period. They rallied in the second and managed to stay competitive the rest of the way, which kept the home crowd on their feet and electrified.
But with a minute to go in regulation, Detroit went up two goals, effectively putting the game away.
With the goal, exhaustion overcame Jack. Hands on his knees, he circled center ice and waited for play to resume. He looked over to the bench, but the Renegades weren’t making any adjustments at such a late point in the game.
He spotted Haven in the tunnel and his chest ached at the sight of her. He hadn’t seen her since the night at the bar. Beside her, Neal stood with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. She said something to him and he grinned.
Despite himself, a smile tugged at one corner of Jack’s mouth. Neal would like Haven. He enjoyed a smart-ass as much as anyone.
On the ice for the faceoff, Jack chased his man to the corner and battled him, because he didn’t ever give up, no matter how unlikely a win may be. He kicked and poked at the disc with his stick, and when it shot out, he gave chase. Taking possession of the puck, he charged up ice, but Kai on the left wing was a step ahead of him and they skated into Detroit territory offside.
A whistle trilled, stopping play.
He peered up at the game clock. Ten seconds remained.
Then the ref signaled a timeout taken by the Renegades.
It was an odd timeout. Maybe Coach wanted to use these last seconds to work with the young guys?
When Jack skated to the bench, Coach leaned over the boards.
“You’re with Detroit now,” he said.
Jack shook his head. “What?”
Coach jabbed a finger at the Detroit bench. “You’ve been traded.”
Jack recoiled. “Wait, what?”
That didn’t make any sense. He’d been traded? To Detroit? Now? His sluggish mind failed to grasp the pieces that’d make this puzzle fit together.
Around him, a couple of his teammates murmured to one another. The crowd, which had gone quiet with the game out of reach, seemed eerily devoid of sound.
The captain for Detroit, a guy Jack had known and respected for years, skated over to him.
A broad smile on his face, he gave Jack a whack on the back. “Good to finally have you onboard, Nolan.”
What the…?
Then Jack’s head snapped around. In the tunnel, Haven watched him with her big dark eyes.
She’d done this.
A lump wedged in his throat.
More back pats and mumbled salutes landed on him from the Detroit players. Then, from his Milwaukee teammates, came murmurings of a different nature. The murmuring spread to the crowd, and grew to a steady rumble.
She did this. Behind his back, she’d struck a deal.
He looked to his teammates, who looked back at him with varied expressions. Some confusion, frustration, disappointment. Jack felt them all. Was overwhelmed by them all. He skated down the line of the Renegade players, giving a fist bump to each man. At the end of the line, his new teammates folded him into their midst.
Knowledge of the trade seemed to ripple through crowd. There was a groundswell of surprised chatter, which rapidly slid toward aggrieved.
But then, someone started to clap.
It started slow, reluctant even, but with each passing moment, the applause strengthened and built. Emotion tightened his throat. He lifted his stick and the crowd roared. A classy sendoff for a favored player. A leader.
While the players took to the ice and the last seconds melted off the clock, Jack, in a daze, hit the tunnel.
Neal greeted him with a wide grin. “Welcome to Detroit, Jack. It’s good to have you home.”
From her spot behind him, Sutton squeezed forward. She grasped his arm with both of her hands and gave him a small shake. “I’m so happy for you, Jack.”
Then she stood before him, and her huge brown eyes locked on his face.
How could she have done this to him?
Her soft smile suffered a crack when her gaze slipped to Sutton, and Neal, and then back to him.
“Congratulations,” she said softly. “You have everything you want.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
In the rankings, the Renegades hovered near the wild card spot. On any given night, they popped into or out of that last playoff slot, depending if they, or the other teams in their division, won or lost. But with seven weeks to go until the postseason started, anything could happen.
The fact was they had a chance, a real chance, to get into the playoffs, and any team that earned a spot in the postseason had a shot to win the Cup.
So as Haven arrived at her dad’s office Monday morning, real pride bloomed in her chest. Around the aching hole that’d blown wide open when she sent Jack away.
She shook off the thorns of doubt that tried to sprout and draw more blood. It was what Jack wanted. It was what he’d earned. She would’ve been wrong not to give it to him after promising him she’d do so. So what if she loved him? Love wasn’t enough.
Love couldn’t keep someone with you, or keep them safe, or bring them back once they’d gone. Love couldn’t make her parents stay married, or even realize just how much their child who hadn’t died still needed them.
“Hi, Dad.”
Hank stood in front of the flat-screen TV, watching the hockey channel, his hands in the pockets of his dress slacks. He’d already shucked his suit coat and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.
At his appearance, a wisp of optimism stirred in her. The color had returned to his face and his hair shined. He looked hale, healthy.
Even when his features twisted into a furious scowl. “Why in the hell did you trade Nolan?”
“Oh, uh….”
At the sound of a derisive snort, she turned her head to see Darby lounging in an armchair.
“We needed the cap space,” she lied.
“He was our best player!” Her dad’s voice boomed.
At least he was feeling better.
“Jesus, Haven. I asked you to do one thing—keep from burning the place down—and you couldn’t do it.” He threw the TV remote into the sofa cushions and stomped toward his desk.
“We’re in fourth place in the division,” she pointed out. Up from last place.
“Not for long.” He yanked open the door of the mini-fridge.
Haven’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered in her chest while her dad stared down into the fridge, empty except for a few cans of soda.
On a curse, he kicked the door shut. Turning, he kicked the desk chair and sent it crashing into the wall. Then he lurched forward to smack his palms flat on the desktop and let his head hang down.
After changing her whole life to help him out, and having some success, no matter how little, with the team, she’d expected a different reaction from him.
How silly of her to hope it’d be different this time.
Hope. That was something Haven, the teenager, used to do. Before her father withdrew his affection from her and turned it toward her best friend.
Haven, the adult, knew better.
From his armchair, Darby looked on with a poorly concealed smirk.
She took a step back. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go.”
Her dad lifted his head and his gaze fixed on Darby. “What’s going on with Marleau?”
Haven slipped from the room.
Haven didn’t know how long she sat in her car in the parking ramp at the arena. She’d packed up her things and cleared out of the penthouse. Mel was at home with a cold, and Wyatt was in meetings all day. Even Bob hadn’t been around for her to say good-bye.
She was free.
But she didn’t feel free.
Before the tears closing the back of her throat started to fall, she put the car in gear. At the highway interchange, she headed south out of Milwaukee. In Chicago, rather than picking up the interstate going south, toward
Atlanta, she skirted around the basin of Lake Michigan and headed north.
The sun had dropped and a large orange ball hung low in the sky when she traveled along the island’s meandering lakeshore drive. As she climbed the front steps of Emily’s grand home, a chill breeze kicked up off Lake Michigan and blew a strand of hair across her face. Her heart stirred with the wind.
What was she doing there? Why had she chosen to return to the place where she could all but guarantee memories of Jack would only taunt and torment her?
Pressure closed the back of her throat but she swallowed the tightness. It didn’t matter where she went. There was nowhere to run to escape her love for him. She might as well move toward it.
The door swung open and Emily’s pretty face lit up like a beacon in the dark.
Haven burst into tears.
“I don’t know why I’m here. There are exactly zero reasons for me to be here. I should’ve called first or gone someplace else or—”
Emily pulled Haven inside and shut the door on the cold.
“I never cry.” Haven buried her face in Emily’s shoulder. “I have no idea why I can’t stop crying.”
“Don’t you?” Not one to ramble, Emily had a knack for saying a lot with few words.
When Haven quieted, she dropped her arms and pulled free of Emily’s warm hug. She bumped against something unexpected and looked down at the distinct swell of Emily’s belly.
Her heart constricted. How could she have forgotten about Emily’s pregnancy? Or that bitch at the wedding reception? Or the whole entire reason she ever met Jack Nolan?
She choked back another sob. “How far along are you?”
Emily’s smile held enough warmth to melt the ice at Hank’s Pizza Haven Arena. “Five m-months.”
“And you’re doing okay?”
A man’s voice ripped her world apart a moment before he bounded into the foyer and shredded her heart.
Her mind grappled with the sight of him. The same dark hair, though a touch longer on the sides. The same mouth, just a little puffier, and the eyes a brighter shade of green. His face changed with his smile, the same way Jack’s did. The smile that popped dimples into his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The smile that tickled her heart every time.