So Over You

by Kate Meader

  Violet sniffed. “You fucking bitch, Harper. I’m only sticking around this hellhole if you get me a photo of Remy’s dick for my files. And not a sleepy peen shot, either.”

  They all laughed, grateful for anything to cut through the tension.

  Reminded of her cavalier disregard for her sister’s feelings, Isobel threw her arms around Violet. “I’m sorry I scared you. I wasn’t thinking of how this would affect anyone else. I didn’t realize that we’d reached this point.” Where her sisters and one steel-eyed Russian meant more to her than going for gold.

  Her younger sister hugged her back. “You pull a stunt again like that, and I will cut you.”

  Isobel could only nod at one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her.

  “So let me get this straight.” Violet held up her hand and started a count. “In prehistoric times, Petrov took your virginity and ‘forgot’ to give you an orgasm.”

  Harper’s mouth dropped open. “Uh, what?”

  “Try to keep up, Harper.” Violet continued, “He got chased off the property by Cliffie-boy wielding a hockey stick. Then a few years later, he shows up at your big game and sneaks into your hospital room to coma-stalk you even though he knows the maniac with the stick is probably looking to finish the ass-whuppin’. Two months ago, he’s traded in, finally makes up for the lost orgasms big time, but then shoots himself in the dick by going behind your back and ruining your chance at golden glory.” She punctuated the recap with a smartass grin. “Have I missed anything?”

  Isobel gave a teary-eyed nod of acknowledgment of how crazy it all was.

  “He’s kind of dramatic.”

  “You couldn’t make this shit up. Hell, Dante’s not wrong. This family is a soap opera looking for a daytime network slot.”

  Harper gave Isobel a wobbly smile. “I think you have somewhere to be, sis.”

  Oh boy. There came a time in every girl’s life when she needed to take a leap of faith. Isobel had always thought there would be ice under her feet when she landed. Not this time. This time, she was jumping into the air, but her fall would be broken—she hoped—by the arms of a man.

  Vadim Petrov, czar of her heart.

  Hell, the third period would be starting any minute. “I wish we had a closet of knee pads up here,” she said as she headed toward the door.

  “Why?” Violet asked.

  “Because when a girl has to grovel, she likes to do it with protection.”

  THIRTY

  Live from rock bottom . . .

  In the final break of the game—and at the rate he was playing, likely the final break of the season—Vadim sat apart from the rest of the players, elbows on knees, head bent as if he might throw up at any moment. He couldn’t focus. The puck was as small as a pea, and his stick was like a fork trying to chase it around on his dinner plate.

  “Petrov.”

  He peered up, his vision sharpening to take in an angel in black. Bella.

  “Outside. Now.”

  Obeying her command, he stood, tethered to her. No one offered commentary or even judgmental glances, not with a two-goal deficit and their dreams on life support.

  Outside the locker room, she asked, “How’s the knee?”

  Disappointment washed over him. She was here in her capacity as coach.

  He answered with a sullen, “Fine.”

  “You look tired. Did you take a nap today?”

  He had tried, but he found it difficult to sleep when she wasn’t there. He’d become used to her, he supposed.

  “If you have no guidance other than to criticize my preparation, then this conversation is over.”

  “How’s it going up here, Vadim?” She touched his forehead. “And here?” Her thumb drew a line along his lips. “And here?” Her palm on his chest yielded a jerk from his heart, the foolish lump sensing its owner. What was once intolerable had found a ready, willing acceptance.

  “Isobel, what do you want?” The words came out rough.

  Her hand remained, splayed flat against his thumping heart. “You came to see me in Buffalo. Not just to the game, but at the hospital.”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Was she serious? “Why would I not want to see history being made by the girl who set the ice on fire and my heart with it all those years ago? And it would have taken a team made up of every defenseman in the NHL to keep me away from your bedside.”

  “I didn’t know you were there.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought you saw it on TV with everyone else. Later. I—I didn’t know.”

  He cupped her cheek and leaned in close. “When you were cut down, my heart was cut down with you. At the hospital, I could barely speak English. Or Russian. The staff thought I was crazy, but they also knew who I was.”

  “Buffalo,” she said on a sniff. “Big hockey town.”

  “Yes it is. They let me sit with you when I said I was your boyfriend. But your father returned and wouldn’t hear of it. I knew that a public fight would get in the news, impede your recovery, so I stayed away, and then—” He shook his head. “It seemed better to watch over you from afar. You would have more chances to play, and I didn’t want to distract you from your journey. This craving you have to excel. Deep down, I knew I had never meant as much to you as you meant to me.”

  Her career would always come first, even at the expense of his heart.

  “Vadim, you’re the best kind of distraction.”

  “Just a distraction, Bella?”

  “No!” Eyes wild, she fisted his jersey. “What you did, talking to Lindhoff, I understand it was because you care about me. I hate it, but I understand.”

  “Not just care, Bella. Ya ne mogu zhit’ bez tebya. That means ‘I cannot live without you.’ It took me a while to admit this to myself, but this amazing girl caught me all those years ago and I burn for her. Only her.”

  He raised his jersey and placed her hand over his favorite tattoo, the one of the skates in flames. “Devushka s goryshimi konkami. This ink was for you.”

  “This tattoo? It’s—oh! The Girl with the Blazing Skates.” She bit her lip, suddenly bashful. “That’s me.”

  “I kept you here, all these years.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed, tears welling like diamond drops on her lashes. She opened them again. “Vadim, I’ve been feeling so lost. You know that. And I wasn’t sure if I was using you as an anchor while I tried to right the ship or if this ship couldn’t sail without you. I’m sorry about how I reacted. I needed someone to blame, to lash out at.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead. “I can take anything you give me. We Russians are used to suffering.”

  “But you really shouldn’t have to put up with my drama. It’s so hard for me to admit I need you. Need anyone. I want to be the woman you deserve, but I also want to be the woman I deserve.”

  When would she realize her worth to him? Her worth to herself? Apparently he would have to spend the rest of his life showing her.

  “Bella, they are one and the same. I will not be satisfied with a woman who has no dreams or ambitions. My woman is the North Star in my night sky, but also in her own. If she is not there to guide me, there is only darkness. For us both.” He searched her face. “Talking to your coach, going behind your back, I know it was not the best way to handle it. This is not how we should resolve our problems. It was a decision made out of desperation, but also out of self-preservation. Without you, I am nothing.”

  “Oh, Vadim, you crazy Russian.”

  He smiled, sensing they were finally skating in sync at last. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Sort of.”

  Perhaps not. “Sort of?”

  “Well, you see, we have a problem.” She pointed toward the arena. “Out there. We’re two goals down, heading into the final period, and if we don’t win, our season is over.”

  “I recognize this problem.”

  “Actually, there’s a bit more to it than that. You see,
if we don’t make the play-offs, the team’s going to be sold off. That’s how my father set up his will.”

  She chose to share this information now? And people considered him dramatic!

  “So there’s a lot riding on this next twenty minutes.” She peered up at him. “Probably shouldn’t have told you that, should I?”

  “It is an unusual coaching strategy, I admit.”

  The sound of voices rose. The players were about to leave the locker room.

  “But here’s the thing, Vad. I actually don’t care about any of that. Sure, I’d like to get to the play-offs and hold on to ownership of the team, more for Harper, because this means everything to her. But if we don’t, you’re going to have other chances, either with the Rebels’ new owners or with whomever you play with next, because you’re too good not to lay your hands on that hardware. And on top of that, I can survive it because when the game is over and the interviews are done and the only sound on the rink is the Zamboni starting up, I’ll have you. Wherever you are.”

  Remy emerged from the locker room, closely followed by Callaghan, Burnett, and the rest of the crew.

  She tightened her grip on his jersey, pulling him close. “I will have you, won’t I?”

  “Past, present, future, Bella, I am yours. That will never change. I love you.”

  “Nice work, Petrov,” Remy said with a wicked grin as he dropped Vadim’s helmet, gloves, and stick at his feet. “But don’t get cocky. Night’s not over yet.”

  Isobel threw her arms around Vadim’s neck and inhaled him.

  “Ty pakhnesh’, kak zaplesnevelyy syr,” she whispered in his ear.

  The rest of the team trooped by with stupid grins cracking their stupid faces, all except an unsmiling St. James, who took up the rear and nodded at Isobel. “Coach.”

  She nodded back. “Cap.” Then she turned to Vadim once more and repeated what she had just said. A very odd response to telling a woman you loved her.

  “I have been working hard, Bella, so I know I am not as fragrant as I could be.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “You just told me that I smell like moldy cheese. Is this another of your unconventional coaching tactics?”

  Her growl was so sexy. “Fucking Alexei, he’s always hated me. I called him to get the correct pronunciation. You know he’s dating your mom, right?”

  Laughing, he kissed her hard and long, this woman who made him a man, and now the happiest person on the planet.

  This woman who would make him a champion.

  “My English is better than your Russian. Tell me what you meant to say.”

  “I love you,” she said, her mouth in a beautiful curve.

  That smile gave him life. “Again.”

  “I love you, Vadim Petrov.”

  “And if I lose tonight?”

  A roar went up from the crowd. The last period was beginning. “I’ll still love you. But I’ll probably love you more if you win.”

  “Then I will win.” And with his coach’s rousing words echoing in his heart, he put on his helmet and headed out to do what needed to be done.

  EPILOGUE

  Isobel skated to the face-off circle and assumed the position. Stance wide, body bowed, blade at the ready. Her opposite stood a few inches taller than her, but that’s where the superiority ended.

  The puck dropped.

  She touched it first, whipped it left to Gabby, and still found time to shoot a gotcha grin at the man she loved as she left him eating her ice shavings. One minute later, her team of U-12s—all girls—scored and won the game.

  She called the entire class over to the circle and high-fived them all. “Nice work, guys! Remember what I said: speed will always win over might.”

  Vadim removed his helmet, his dark hair falling like glossy silk over his brow. The girls sighed, and Isobel’s hormones joined in. He really was unbelievably dreamy.

  And all hers.

  The boys on the team, while not overcome in quite the same way by Vadim’s perfection, gazed in wide-eyed wonder.

  “Can you show us the goal from the Philly game?”

  Vadim stroked the beginnings of a scruffy beard, another check in the hotness column. “The goal? You mean the one that got us to the play-offs?”

  Isobel rolled in her lips. Vadim would be dining off that goal for the foreseeable future. Scored in overtime against Philly, it won the Rebels the last spot in the play-offs, starting in one week. They’d made it! Sure, during the first round, the wild card was up against the best team in the Western Conference, Dallas, but when had the Rebels ever gone the stress-free route?

  The kids took the positions of the final play of the last Rebels game, and Vadim skated them through every pass, feint, and hit that got the win. Isobel watched her man, loving this playful side of him.

  Happy Vadim plus happy Isobel equaled happy life. For them both.

  She was considering her next career steps. Seeing the Rebels through to the play-offs, keeping the team in the family, and teaching the kids here were enough to keep her busy for now. Life had a habit of unraveling its knots. Supporting Vadim satisfied her, and when she was ready to figure out what came next—maybe her own foundation promoting leadership in sports to girls—she knew he’d have her back.

  Finished with the reenactment of only the greatest goal ever in a final regular-season game, Vadim gathered the kids around.

  “Who would like tickets to the first home game of the play-offs?”

  Every hand shot up. “Me! Me! Me!”

  “I will have a special box for you all to sit in, but only if you promise to do something for me.”

  A sea of bright-eyed faces looked up at him, ready to sell their souls for a seat in an executive box. Little hucksters.

  “You must always listen to your coach. She is the reason why I am the success I am today, and she will make all the difference to your game. Okay?”

  That’s all? their expressions said. On a chorus of okays, they skated off.

  “Did you let me win that face-off, Russian?”

  He glided over and reached for the strap of her helmet. “This should be tighter, Bella. You know that.” He removed his gloves, then her helmet, dropped it, and kissed her with enough heat to melt the ice beneath her feet.

  Not so fast, Russian. She cut the kiss short. “Did you?”

  “No. Your advantages over me are many, and I would not dream of giving you one more. You have always been faster.” He grabbed her ass, pretty fast himself. “In every way.”

  That hand plus her ass: perfection.

  Satisfied she wasn’t being totally played, she threw herself wholeheartedly into being kissed by a pro, and probably would have risked freezer burn on her butt if she hadn’t heard a cough behind her. Jax Callaghan had just arrived with his next group, older kids than hers, but still completely in awe of the Russian. While they crowded around Vadim with questions, Jax nudged her shoulder.

  “Pretty surprising about Burnett.”

  Her heart lurched. “What about him?”

  Jax pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen to show her a headline from the Sun-Times website: “Cade Burnett, Rebels D-Man, Comes Out.”

  Holy shit. “I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, just announced it at a press conference an hour ago. The media’s going nuts.” Jax shook his head, a wry grin on his lips. “The Rebels have never chosen easy, though, have they?”

  No, they had not. Alamo was gay? And he had decided to unveil this nugget right before the play-offs? First in the NHL, too. Wow, the kid was brave, and bravery on the ice, in life, and especially in love would always be rewarded. The Rebels would rally around and support him like the family he was to them.

  That exchange she’d witnessed between him and Dante at the fund-raiser opened a Pandora’s box of speculation. These next few weeks were going to be most interesting.

  “So how’d it go?” Jax asked, snagging her attention once more.

  “
How’d what go?”

  “That shot you wanted to take?”

  She watched Vadim, the man who loved her too much to bear the thought of a life without her in it. Joking and laughing with the kids, he peeked up and delivered one of his patented Smiles of Destruction.

  She fought her own grin—but not too hard—before giving Jax an answer.

  “I took it, I scored big, and I won. The whole freakin’ shebang.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To the team at Pocket/Gallery—Molly, Marla, Melissa, Jean Anne, Kristin, Abby, Liz, Faren, and Lauren—thanks for being as excited about the Rebels as I am. Special thanks are due to my editor, Kate Dresser, for her awesome notes and insights. She didn’t balk when I proposed the premise for So Over You: “Um, the hero of this book failed to rock the heroine’s world the first time around. Okay with you?” Maybe she was faking it—ha!—when she said, “I can’t wait to read that!” I’ll never know, but it all worked out in the end—Isobel gets at least three orgasms to every one of Vadim’s. The balance of the universe is restored.

  Thanks to Lana Kart for her ongoing support, excitement about Vadim, and help with Russian phrasing. Any mistakes are mine.

  Thanks to all the authors who helped me keep my sanity this last year: Gina L. Maxwell, Abby Green, Lauren Layne, Jessica Lemmon, Robin Covington, Sarah MacLean, Sophie Jordan, Kimberly Kincaid, Sonali Dev, Julie Ann Walker, and Avery Flynn, to name a few. Every day, I learn something new from these amazing ladies, and I count myself blessed to be a part of this rocking romance community.

  To my agent, Nicole Resciniti, thanks for always having my back.

  And to Jimmie, my heart and my home, it’s okay that you don’t care even a little about hockey.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the sizzling next installment in the Chicago Rebels series

  Undone by You

  A Chicago Rebels enovella

  By Kate Meader

  Available in March 2018 from Pocket Star Books!

  ONE

  Someone must have drugged his drink.