by Sophia Henry
“When I retire, you will take over every single Bertucci entity I manage. You, Gaby. Not Joey. Not Drew. You.”
I pulled back in surprise, straightening against the back of my chair, but Papa held my hand and squeezed it.
“You’ve been by my side since you were four years old. You know every inch of the stores. You can probably run them better than I can. Definitely better than your Uncle Sal.” A smile spread across his face.
“What?” I asked, fearing the but that had to be coming soon. There had to be a but, right?
“I can’t believe I’ve been so blind all these years, Gaby. I’ve taken you for granted and I apologize. I just assumed you knew.”
“How could I know, Papa? You shot me down when I had everything prepared to manage the store. And you let Joey run it. Joey! Running a store he’d never even set foot in, let alone know how to do anything.”
“Do you want to know why I let Joey run this store?”
“Yes.” My answer came loud and adamant, though he’d answer whether I wanted him to or not.
“Bertucci Produce—the shed, the two stores—that pays our bills. That keeps us afloat. Hell, it keeps our entire extended family afloat. This store is new. We’re testing it out, trying to get your mother’s artistic pipe dream off the ground.” He laughed. “I would never let your brother run one of the produce stores. We’d all be on the street before a week was done.”
This time I laughed. His scenario was an exaggeration, but it was funny. Actually, it was a slight exaggeration. Bertucci Produce was a whole different beast. Joey could’ve been a bagger, at most.
Papa continued, “I’d like Joey to get his life on track. I thought giving him a big responsibility here would get his mind in the right place. Think about the future and what he wants to do.” Papa released my hand and rubbed his face with both of his hands. Then he rested his elbows on the desk, clasped his fingers, and set his chin on them. “I don’t know if I’ve accomplished anything but getting you extremely upset with me.”
“It’s okay, Papa. I’ve been upset for a while. I’m just vocalizing it now.” I smiled.
He released his hands and pounded the desk. “I always thought your anger was normal teenage-girl angst. Glad to know it’s because you think I’m a chauvinist pig. I can work with that.”
“Papa!” I grabbed his hand. “I wish you would have told me. We could’ve saved a lot of unnecessary teenage angst.”
“Honestly, Gaby, I didn’t realize that I was being chauvinistic. Other than the Joey thing, what do I do that makes you think I’m president of the He-Man Women Haters club?”
Though I had no clue where he’d come up with that club name, I didn’t hesitate to respond. “You never listen to my ideas. But if Sammy or Uncle Sal or some other man suggests it, then you listen. You do it all the time. I think you’re only happy about the Pilots player signing we had because Landon set it up. A man had to be involved or it wouldn’t have gone off as well as it did.”
“Gaby!” Papa said my name as if he were completely surprised. He released my hand again and leaned back in his chair. “Gabriella, I can’t believe you think it’s because you’re a girl. Maybe it’s because you’ve been feeding me fabulous, grandiose ideas since you were eight. Maybe it’s because you’re only nineteen years old and I haven’t realized you are grown and ready to have more control.”
“Come on, Papa. It’s a little bit because I’m a girl. I mean, you don’t listen to Mom either.”
“I don’t? Then why are we sitting in the office of a local artisans’ store we financed with our own money to help your mother fulfill her dreams of selling her paintings?”
“Well, I just meant—” I began. But he was right. 313 was Mom’s vision, her dream, her baby, though she didn’t work here. She painted. And sketched. And sometimes sculpted.
“I didn’t realize I came off as such a caveman, Gaby, especially to my one and only daughter. I trust you with decisions. I have since you were fourteen. You’re smart and capable and you single-handedly created the plan to get customers into this store, no matter who ended up carrying out that plan.” Papa stood up and walked around the desk. He extended his arms. “Can you forgive me?”
A tear slipped down my cheek as I registered all the wonderful things Papa had just said. I jumped up and crushed him with a hug. “I love you, Papa.”
He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. He didn’t let up until I was the one pulling away.
“Can I ask you one more question?” he asked, still holding me.
“Sure.”
“Did you choose not to go to college because of what happened with the Mitchell boy?”
Oh no. I could handle dancing around the rape with Mom, but when Papa brought it up, I wanted to hide like a jack-in-the-box and break off the crank so no one could make me pop out.
“No. I just, I’m not good at school. You saw my report cards.” I tried to shrug out of Papa’s arms, but he wouldn’t let me go.
“You’re an intelligent girl, Gabriella. Your report cards changed after the rape.”
And there it was. The word that must not be used.
Papa continued, “Are you scared to go to college because of what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Lie.
Truth: I did know. I never admitted it, even to myself. I’d refused to set foot on a college campus since the rape. Every time I visited Michelle at Loyola, I made up some lame excuse about wanting a hotel room close to Michigan Avenue shopping to avoid her dorm. Still hadn’t figured out what I’d do when Drew graduated next year and I had to be at the ceremony. On that same campus. The place it happened.
“Landon brought it up, actually. I can’t believe I never thought about it.” Papa shook his head. “I don’t want to push anything at you, Gaby. But I don’t want you to miss out on life because of fear. There are other options. Online classes. You can live at home.”
“I’ll think about it, Papa.” I inspected a dog’s hair on his sweater, which was still inches from my face since he wasn’t letting go of me. “I suck at online classes. And I’m just not ready to think about that right now.”
“Okay.” Papa stroked my hair. “But when, or if, you are, please let me and Mom know. We can help, Gaby. We’ll do whatever is best for you.”
“Speaking of Landon and his perceptive mind,” I began. Papa put it out there, so I would, too. “Did you and Mom start this store because you didn’t want me to have to work with the Mitchells anymore?”
Papa’s grip tightened around me. “He’s a perceptive boy, isn’t he?”
“Outsiders usually are.”
“To an extent, yes. You know we can’t leave the family business. Not right now, at least. We thought if we could make this store profitable, we could give ourselves some distance from the produce side. We needed to find a place you could work without the fear of seeing that boy every day. And if this store is successful, maybe we can open other branches. In a mall, or I don’t know.” Papa shook his head. “We’ll see what the future holds. It kills me that we can’t walk away from the Mitchells and their bullshit. It pisses me off that Nonno would rather keep his business ties strong than his family safe. As your father, I want to do everything I can to protect you. Even if it means giving my brother control of the produce business.”
My grip on Papa tightened as tears streamed down my cheeks. How many times had I cursed my father for going along with Nonno’s business bullshit? How many times had I bitched and complained—including today—about his plan to bump me out of the picture just for being born a girl? Just knowing he was willing to give up the business for me proved what an amazing person he was.
“Should we talk about the great and powerful wizard, Landon Taylor, now?” Papa asked.
“Shhhh!” I glanced at the door to make sure it was still closed.
“You two have gotten quite close, Gabriella.”
“He’s an amazing person. He’s had a positive
influence on me.”
“I see that.” Papa released me from his arms. “And I’m glad. I like him, Gaby. And he comes from a good family. But you might want to tread lightly. He’s a hockey player. Hockey players travel. They get traded. They have a lot of fans.”
“I know.” I reached back and fluffed the hair off my neck, where Dad’s massive arms had crushed it. “I’m not ready for forever yet. I’m too young. But I like who I am with him. And I’m willing to accept whatever life has in store for both of us. I’ll be happy for him. Just like he’s happy for me.”
“And you love him.”
“I do.” I dropped my eyes to the floor, convinced Papa would see memories of sexcapades with Landon in the blush of my cheeks.
“Your mother and I are here if you need us, Gaby. Love is beautiful. But it can be hard. And relationships take a lot of work.”
“Tell me about it. You had to open an art store to keep your woman happy.”
Humor seemed like the best way to deflect more love—or worse: sex—conversations that Papa may have been about to get into. I couldn’t handle another birds-and-bees talk. The first one, with a condom and a flashlight, embarrassed me enough. And the lucky two-dollar bill and condom that Mom gave me before my date with Landon pushed me over the edge.
Papa opened the door to the office and we both stepped out into the store.
“Chill, she’s right there.” Sammy pointed at me. I looked up to see that he’d been speaking to Landon.
When had he gotten here?
And why was he bouncing? Literally. Landon was on his tiptoes bouncing like he was waiting for someone to shoot the gun to start the marathon. He rushed toward me.
“I’m gonna play in the NHL, Gaby!” Before I had a chance to react, he swept me into his arms, lifted me off my feet, and spun me around.
“Amazing!” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. Then I raised my head and kissed his cheek. “I knew it would happen. The Aviators were just slow.”
Landon set me down but didn’t let me go. His hands settled on my hips and he pressed his lips on mine. I kissed him back with increased passion, despite my father being inches away from us. Though, the fact that I could reach out and touch Papa while making out with my boyfriend was slightly unsettling.
“It’s not the Aviators, Gaby. I got traded.”
“What?” I pulled back, but stayed close because I didn’t want him to take his hands off me. I took my eyes off Landon for a split second as Papa inched by us and walked toward a customer. “Traded to where?”
In the grand scheme of things, where didn’t matter. Landon would go to whatever team wanted him and would play him. His dream was finally coming true. All of his hard work had finally paid off.
“The Wings. And they aren’t even sending me to Grand Rapids first. I’m gonna be playing in the NHL right here in Detroit.”
The extreme surprise—and joy—I felt multiplied with every head that swiveled toward us as Landon made his announcement. It wasn’t like we were in private, after all.
A chorus of cheers erupted behind us, popping the imaginary Gaby and Landon bubble surrounding us. Perfect timing, as if the crowd realized that I wouldn’t be able to form words or sounds or thoughts after Landon’s announcement.
Everyone’s happiness rallied around our local hero, who would be playing hockey in his hometown. Everyone was happy for the chance to follow his career and root for him, without wavering from our fierce home-team loyalty.
Happy he’d be fulfilling his dream right here, in the same city where I lived. The same city we were born and raised. The same city we were slowly trying to help put back together, one small step at a time, in our own way.
“That’s so ridiculously fantastic,” I whispered in his ear. “I would’ve been ecstatic for you if you’d been called up to Charlotte, too, ya know?”
“I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you, Gaby. You get it.” Landon looked around the store, at the people already there and the two that were walking through the door as he eyed it. “I’m glad I’m staying. Looks like 313 is gonna need my help.”
“And that’s why I love you, Landon. You get it.”
To Jeff and Henry: the strongest, most wonderful men I know
Acknowledgments
To everyone who beta read and critiqued Power Play: Katie, Anne, Jamie, Kim, Julie at True Blue Edits, and Heather.
To Sue Grimshaw. I always dreamt of having a supportive, encouraging editor. My dream came true when you gave me and the Pilots a chance. Thank you so much. Thank you to every single person at Random House/Flirt who had a hand in the Pilots Series. I’m happy to have such a talented group of creative professionals on my side.
To my kick-ass agent, Jessica Watterson, and the Sandra Dijkstra Literary team, for always giving me the encouragement I need, and for keeping a level head to calm down my crazy.
To my Rush Espresso writing partner: Jeni Burns. Thanks for keeping me motivated and accountable, and for all the amazing ideas. I love giving you a hard time. (That’s what she said.) And to the phenomenal staff at Rush Espresso in Charlotte, NC. Not sure if you realized how much you influenced this book, but your kindness and energy flowed into these words. And the caffeine…that, too.
To my #TZWNDUBC peeps: Claire Huggins, Rebekah Millet, Deanne Dekle, Cindi Madsen, Janette Derucki, Marissa Odom, Kimberley Steel, Christy Bennett, Ida Bosita, Thamy Duffield, Tatiana Magalhaes, Judy Gabbett, Christy Moore, Kristy Zavorka, Cristina Escalante, Hannah Membrey, Nicole Frost, Jennifer Strand, Gaby Navarro, Tamara Basic, Kimberly Miller-Callegan, Nikki Oldenburg, Mary Quiggle-Pickering, Amy Oelkers, Rachel Patrick, Shanna Galey, Lynna Cantrell, Katia Newman, Rachel Harris, Aydrea Rickert, and Elise Faber. Thank you for everything. I’m so happy our shared love of Jeri Smith-Ready and books brought us together. You guys are my best friends. I’m thankful for your friendship, support, encouragement, and all the fun and laughs—oh, and books, yeah, books.
My (original) RT girls: Jill Dunlop, Anne Golden, Linda Yakey, Mary Stubbs, Courtney Dwyer, Cathy Matuszask, and Tamara Worlton. Thank you for taking me in, showing me the ropes, and for being such amazing friends. Your encouragement and excitement for books and authors spur me on.
To all my Bad Girlz: Sydney Carroll, Frances Fowlkes, Jeanette Grey, Sally Kilpatrick, Heather McGovern, Tanya Michaels, Elizabeth Michels, Trish Milburn, Jenna Patrick, Laura Trentham, Brighton Walsh, and Lori Waters. Thank you for your friendship, support, and all the fun. I’m so proud to be part of such an amazing group of women and authors. Raise your glass, ladies. We all have a lot to celebrate.
To the authors of the NAC: Marnee Blake, Diana Gardin, Ara Grigorian, Amanda Heger, Jamie Howard, Meredith Tate, Kate L. Mary, Marie Meyer, Jessica Ruddick, Laura Salters, Annika Sharma, and Tegan Wren. You have quickly and seamlessly become the best friends, support system, and cheerleading team I could’ve ever dreamed of. And all of your talent blows me away.
To every author, reader, blogger, and friend I’ve connected with in the writing world. It truly is a world of people who build up their peers to help one another do well and succeed. I’m so happy to write in such a supportive environment.
To Carter at Apple Customer Service, for resurrecting my Pages app after I killed it, which saved me from losing all the edits on this book. Get some sleep, man.
I can’t forget to include my inspirations: Sergei Fedorov, Alexander Mogilny, Slava Kozlov, Steve Yzerman, Gerard Gallant, and countless other hockey players who captivated my world as a child and made me a ridiculously crazy fan of hockey—the best sport in the world!
My entire family, from blood to marriage. Thank you for all your love and support.
To Jeff, Boo Boo, and Cha Chi. You three make up my heart. Even though I write for a living, I don’t have words to express how much I love you. I love every second of every single day with you. You make me a better person.
You. I love to write about the Pilots Hockey team, and I appreciate every sin
gle one of you who gave Power Play (and Delayed Penalty) a chance. Thank you! Thank you! You rock!
Standing up for yourself takes courage. I know.
Making a change takes courage. And determination. And compassion.
But you can do it. We can do it. Together.
For information on helping victims of sexual assault: RAINN.org.
For information on an Urban Farm that helps feed the hungry: Earthworks Urban Farm
#LoveAlwaysWins.
BY SOPHIA HENRY
Delayed Penalty
Power Play
PHOTO: JEFF BENNETT
SOPHIA HENRY, a proud Detroit native, fell in love with reading, writing, and hockey all before she became a teenager. She did not, however, fall in love with snow. So after graduating with an English degree from Central Michigan University, she moved to the warmth of North Carolina for the remainder of her winters.
She spends her days writing books featuring hot hockey-playing heroes. When she’s not writing, she’s chasing her two high-energy sons, reading, watching her beloved Detroit Red Wings, and rocking out at concerts with her husband.
SophiaHenry.com
Facebook.com/sophiahenryauthor
@sophiahenry313
Read on for an excerpt from
Atone
A Recovered Innocence Novel
by Beth Yarnall
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Beau
I walked out of the California Institute for Men in Chino, California, two thousand, two hundred and seventy-one days—more than six years—after I walked in. I was finally free.
Free.
I don’t have the same definition that most people have for that word. While I’m no longer serving a life sentence for a crime I didn’t commit, I’m far from free. The repercussions of my incarceration blasted every area of my life, pitting or obliterating everything in sight. There isn’t a single thing left unscarred. I don’t have a home. I don’t have friends. I don’t have a job or any qualifications to get one. I don’t have any money. I don’t have the same family I had on the day of my conviction.