Because It's You (Carolina Rebels Book 2)

by Lindsay Paige

  “Fine.” She rolls her eyes as if I’m being the crazy person here. “Do you want to get married some day?”

  “Yeah, of course,” Marc answers.

  “Do you want kids one day?”

  I still. What is she doing?

  “Yeah, of course,” he repeats.

  “What do you want to do after hockey?”

  “I’ll think about that when the time comes.”

  “Well, are you going to stay in the States or go back home to Canada?”

  “Stay here,” he quickly answers.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  “Married with a kid or two maybe.”

  My head swims. I hate Sylvia so much. “Can I speak to you privately please?” I stand before she answers. I know exactly what she’s doing and I’m fuming by the time she walks into the kitchen. “It’s not your choice, Sylvia.”

  “He should know, Lizzy. You heard him, heard what he wants. This is something that will eventually come up.”

  “And you’re pushing the subject!”

  “To show you that you need to tell him!” She comes over and grabs my shoulders. “What you did, Lizzy—”

  “He won’t understand it,” I interrupt. “There’s a reason you and Scott don’t hate me for what I did, but my parents hate me and Roger would be disappointed in me and Marc isn’t going to understand. He’s going to look at me differently and I don’t know if I can handle that. There’s a reason it’s supposed to be a secret.”

  “But things are serious with you two whether you want to admit it or not. It’s just something he should know if he’s going to be in your life long-term.” She pulls me in for a hug. “Roger would not be disappointed; he would understand.”

  “I want to believe that because it feels like things happened like they should have, but it kills me that he’s not here to see it.”

  “I know. We both know what you mean,” she whispers.

  “Elizabeth?”

  I pull away from Sylvia, wiping tears with my thumbs. Marc looks concerned.

  “She’s okay,” Sylvia tells him, but he ignores her, rocking on his heels as if he wants to come over to me, but is holding himself back.

  “I’m okay,” I confirm. “We’re coming back.” I walk over to him and hug him because a hug from him is what I actually need. He holds me tight until I start to let go. “Let’s eat. We don’t want our food to get cold.”

  “Aunt Lizzy, when can we have a sleepover?” Stephanie asks.

  “I wanna bake cookies,” Stella adds.

  “Maybe you can come this Sunday if it’s okay with your parents. I can take you to school Monday morning, too.” Then, Scott and Sylvia can have a night without the girls.

  “Can we please?” they both ask at the same time, looking to Scott with wide eyes. Scott glances at his wife. Sylvia is already nodding because she knows her husband doesn’t have a game that evening.

  “Okay, you can have a sleepover.”

  “Can I come over?” Marc asks me. “I want to bake cookies, too.”

  Stella is concentrating on her plate, but I know she’s listening because she’s scrunching her nose. Marc is on her bad side after the cookie mistake.

  “What do you think, Stella? If we make peanut butter cookies, can Marc help us?”

  She sighs. “I guess.”

  Marc grins. There’s his in with Stella. All he has to do is work his magic over peanut butter cookies and he should be able to win her over. He will win her over. Stella is exactly like me. It won’t take long now that Marc knows how to get her to like him for her defenses to fall and she’ll fall in love with him just like I have and she won’t want to admit it either.

  “ARE YOU GOING to the game?” I ask.

  There’s silence on the other end of the phone line. After dinner at Scott and Sylvia’s, Elizabeth has been acting a little strange. She’s starting to get lost in her head again, but she’s not wanting to talk about it, which makes me think it’s about me and not Roger.

  “Not this time.”

  “Not even if I said please?” I don’t know why I’m pushing her when I know it can be difficult for her, but if she comes then I can see her for a quick minute before we catch a flight out of town for a game in Indiana tomorrow to play the Mustangs, which is the team we’re playing tonight as well.

  “What if I come to see you beforehand? I’ll bring you a slice of red velvet cake, and in case you didn’t know, I put coconut and pecans in the frosting.”

  I frown because I’ve never heard of that. “Well, get your ass over here. No, wait. I’ll come see you; I have a present for you.”

  “What kind of present?”

  “Hopefully, the kind you’ll like. I’ll see you as soon as I can get there.”

  “Can’t wait!” She actually sounds excited, so I feel better, even though she’s not coming to the game.

  We hang up, and I change into my suit so I’ll be ready for the game. Once I grab the few other things I’ll need, I’m heading to my truck and driving to Elizabeth’s house. She’s sitting on the front porch when I get there. I grin, remembering how I was doing the same thing the other night. She stands, but waits for me to come meet her.

  She lifts onto her toes to kiss me quickly. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “Where’s my present?”

  I grab her hand, start heading south, and she laughs, yanking it out of my hold.

  “Don’t even, Marc. I want the real present that you’re holding behind your back, not what’s in your pants.”

  “Let’s go inside.” She has her arms wrapped around her, so I know she’s cold. Elizabeth rolls her eyes, but turns to walk into the house. She holds her hands out with a smile. “I don’t know if you’ll like it.” I honestly don’t. Hockey is an iffy subject with Elizabeth. Anything that’s related to hockey will be hit or miss with her.

  “I’ll love it because you gave it to me.”

  “That’s a cheesy line.”

  “Fine. If I hate it, I’ll politely thank you, wait six months to a year, and then gift it to someone else. You’ll know if I like it. Either way, it’ll all be okay.” She wiggles her fingers.

  Without waiting a second longer, I bring the shirt from behind my back and place it in her hands. My first thought was a jersey, of course, but for some reason, that made me hesitate. A jersey seemed like too much. It didn’t feel right. I wanted to give her something, though, so a Rebels T-shirt with Polinski headlining over the number nineteen seemed like a good compromise.

  Elizabeth doesn’t realize what it is at first. She unfolds it, holding it up in front of her, which blocks my view. All I see is the Rebels logo. I hear a sniffle right when her hands start shaking. Fuck. Bad decision.

  “I’ll wear it to the next game,” she whispers as she lowers it.

  “What? No, it’s okay.” Her eyes are all watery. Something so simple should not make her cry! “You—”

  “Marco.”

  My protest dies on my lips. “Polo.”

  She grabs my hand and drags me to the girls’ bedroom. The door is always closed, and I haven’t been in it since that first time. She takes me over to the closet.

  “Just to explain my reaction,” she mutters. “Wait. No.” She whirls around to face me. “First, I love it. Thank you. I will wear it to the next game, and even on Sunday because maybe that’ll help win Stella over for you.” She releases my hand, faces the closet, and leans down to open a bin. A second later, she has my shirt tucked under her arm. “The tears aren’t because of you.” She holds up a T-shirt that is plain on the front, but it has Boyd on the back. The number isn’t Scott’s, so I can only assume it’s Roger’s. “Last hockey shirt I got. Mini flashback. That’s all. I’m sorry it ended up overshadowing your gift.” She drops his shirt back into the bin without folding it up.

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not.” She frowns, slinging her arms around my waist. “I am so unbelievably happ
y to have you here, Marc, and it does bother me that I cry so much over my life with him when I’m with you, but I didn’t deal with his death at all for so long. I break down here and there because of that. It’s a good thing, though; it means I’m finally moving forward.” Her arms tighten around me, saying what she didn’t want to because she isn’t quite ready to say that still.

  With me.

  She’s moving forward with me.

  She lifts up to kiss me real quick and then runs around me. “I’m going to make sure it fits.”

  I’d like to roll my eyes. I’ve had my hands on her body, seen her body, and have had it against me enough to know that the shirt will fit her. I follow her out of the room, shutting the door behind me, and admire the brief flash of skin I see before it’s covered by my name and number.

  “Looks good.”

  She whirls around with a smile. “Doesn’t it?”

  It looks really good. I got her the women’s shirt, so it’s fitted and a V-neck with the Rebels logo stretched across her breasts. She spins one more time. Her blonde hair flies up before settling, brushing her shoulders.

  “When are we going on our next date?” She props her hands on her hips with a raised eyebrow.

  “Soon.”

  “Okay. Let’s get you a piece of that cake. You should probably only taste it. No sweets before a game; that just seems like it would be bad.”

  She leads me into the kitchen and pushes me into a chair. I shrug out of my suit jacket and hang it on the back while she cuts into the cake and grabs a fork. Elizabeth sits sideways in my lap with one arm around my shoulders.

  “Now, if you don’t like this, I may just have to ban you from the house. I make it the exact same way as my grandma, so if you hate it, remember that you’d be spitting on her grave.”

  “That important, huh?”

  “Yep. You should know by now that I take my sweets seriously.” She picks a piece up with her fork. “Open up,” she says just before she feeds me the cake.

  There’s quite a bit of pressure with how she’s watching me chew. I nod and hum my approval. “How was work?”

  She shrugs as she starts to eat the rest of the slice. “Same as usual.”

  “I think you should quit.”

  “What?” She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “There’s this thing called bills, and I need a job to pay for them.”

  “Go after your dream, Elizabeth. I’ll help fund—”

  “No,” she interrupts sternly.

  “Why not?”

  All she does is shake her head and focus on the cake. That is not an acceptable answer.

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Baby steps, Marc,” she says, standing to throw away what’s left of the cake. “You are enough of an adjustment for me and the last thing I need is to tackle something else on top of this and have you pay for it when who the hell knows if we’ll last and then you’ll have money wasted and just no!”

  Yes, because it’ll fucking kill her to have some damn faith in me and in us. I don’t say that because I don’t want to argue and I can hear Meredith telling me to cut her some slack. She’s now standing in front of the sink, her body rigid and still. I stand and walk over until I’m behind her. She leans against me. “There’s no rush, but you should have something for yourself. Think about it. Talk to Sylvia and Scott if you want. Either way, you have to do one thing: start dreaming, Elizabeth. You deserve it.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she promises.

  “Good.” I kiss her temple, catch sight of the time on the oven, and add, “I have to go.”

  She turns around to face me, her arms coming up to wrap around my neck in a hug. “Play great and have a safe trip.”

  “Don’t miss me too much.”

  “Don’t annoy Noah too much.”

  “Oh, now you’re just asking for too much.”

  She laughs and pulls away. “Go on now before I shoo you out of here.”

  “I haven’t gotten my good luck kiss.”

  Elizabeth rolls her eyes, stands on her tiptoes, and presses her mouth to mine. She sighs. I pull her tight against my body. Forget the game. Forget needing to leave. Forget how it’s been in the back of my mind that it’s been bothering me how I haven’t heard from my father lately and I’m bothered because it’s odd, which makes me uneasy. All that matters in this moment is Elizabeth. Her hands squeeze my biceps. Her breasts brush against my chest with each breath. Her tongue clashes with mine. My hands start roaming because I need to feel her. I need to touch her and I need to build her up and make her fall apart beneath me.

  I feel stunned stupid when there are no longer lips against mine to kiss.

  “You’re going to be late,” she breathes, her chest heaving.

  I start kissing along her neck. “You can’t send me off like—fuck,” I groan as she squeezes me through my pants. She unbuckles my belt, unbuttons and unzips me, but before she can drop to her knees, I stop her. This wasn’t my intentions by any means. I wanted sex, not a blow job.

  “No sex today, but I can do this instead.” Elizabeth doesn’t give me time to object, not that I can once she has her mouth on me.

  The Indiana Mustangs are kicking our asses at the moment. The score is three-nothing with a little over nine minutes left in the second period. I pump my legs harder, skating up along the boards and trying to catch one of their players. The puck slides along the curve and Rams is there, cutting it off to flick it back down the ice.

  Captain Hook gains possession near the neutral zone and takes off back the way we just came. He rushes toward the net, but somehow his shot goes wide. Donny is in position for the rebound, but the goalie gloves it. That’s been our luck all game. The goalie isn’t letting anything past him, despite all the shots we’re throwing at him.

  We’re on the bench for a breather while another line is on the ice for a shift. Scotty just received a pass from EJ, but my eyes are on Z and one of the Mustangs’s D-men. He’s all over Z, shoving, slashing, and annoying the hell out of him, and they aren’t that close to the play. Z needs to start giving back some of what he’s getting; you can’t let anyone walk over you. They separate a bit just after they cross over the blue line into the Mustangs’s zone and then the D-man is on Z’s heels as the puck ends up coming his way. Not sure how since I wasn’t paying attention to other areas of the ice.

  The D-man seems to skate faster as Z is angling to come behind the net. They collide and both go into the boards. The D-man is quick to get up, snatch the free puck, but Z hasn’t gotten up just yet. Bruiser is on that D-man before he can pass a face-off dot, his gloves thrown on the ice, and fists swinging while one ref goes toward Z who is getting to his feet while another goes toward the fighting duo. I glance up at the jumbotron and see a replay of Z’s head knocking the boards. Fuck. Head injuries, even the possible ones, are scary as hell. Zane walks straight down the tunnel; they’ll be worried about a concussion for sure.

  Bruiser and the D-man are both put into the penalty box. Time for a four-on-four...where nothing is accomplished. The period continues to wind down and Jeffery Olsen, or Olsey, is the one who tallies our first goal for us with one minute left to go in the period. The energy on the bench has shifted with just that one goal, especially knowing that we might be down a man because of one of their hits.

  During intermission, Coach Mike is going over what he wants to see from us in the next period when Z comes into the locker room. Everything must seem good so far if he’s returning for the third period.

  “You good?” Coach Mike asks.

  “I’m good,” Z confirms before taking his seat next to Bruiser. They bump fists and Z nods to him. Maybe Ian has finally made a friend.

  Back on the ice for the third period, the Mustangs win the face-off. They power their way down the ice and Captain Hook gets himself a hooking penalty. Perfect start to the period. Rams and I keep the puck out of our zone, but they turn around and bring it back within thirty seconds because turnover
s are happening.

  Our shift just ends and a new line takes the ice when they score. Fucking great. The Mustangs end up scoring two more times for us to lose six-one. What I don’t know is that this is the start of a losing streak.

  Elizabeth opens the door looking like a hot mess. Her hair is pulled up into a small ponytail, there’s flour on her face and the shirt I gave her, and she looks frazzled. “Why are you staring at me? I can’t just leave them to their own devices. Come on.”

  She turns without waiting for a response. The twins are sitting at her table, which looks like a disaster zone.

  “Hey, y’all,” I say.

  Elizabeth’s neck nearly breaks, but I just grin. Stephanie looks up and high-fives me with a floury hand and half-shouts a hello while Stella ignores me. I take a seat next to her. When Elizabeth comes back to the table, I grab her wrist.

  “Where’s my proper hello?”

  Her eyes flick to the girls, but all I’m asking for is a simple kiss. Hell, she can kiss me on the cheek if she wants, but I’m getting a kiss. She hesitates for a good five seconds before leaning down to quickly kiss me on the lips.

  “Ewwwwww!” Stephanie erupts. “You kissed Daddy’s teammate, Aunt Lizzy! Are you his girlfriend? Is that why you’re wearing his shirt? You said it was because you liked watching him play.” She eyes Elizabeth with a shit load of skepticism for a five-year-old.

  “Yes, I’m his girlfriend, but no, that’s not why I’m wearing his shirt. Let’s focus on getting these cookies on the pan. The others are almost ready to decorate.” Elizabeth takes over to get cookies on the pan, in the oven, and then there are cookies in the shapes of flowers in front of us along with fresh icing in all sorts of colors and sprinkles. She gives the girls plastic knifes and tells them to go for it. “Stella, maybe you should help Marc. He’s not very good at this kind of thing.”

  Stephanie giggles.

  I start making sloppy work of one cookie, which makes Stella frown. She shakes her head.

  “Like this.” She isn’t so careful about putting the icing on, but she takes her finger around the edge of the cookie to wipe up the excess and the licks it off. “Then it looks pretty.”