Icebreaker

by Deirdre Martin

  “Over here!” Adam shouted, waving his hand in the air so they could see him. He decided to meet them halfway.

  “Oh, Adam, we’re so proud of you,” Susie said tearily.

  He was just about to ask about Rick when someone grabbed him in a headlock from behind, a daily occurrence when he was a child.

  “Let me go, you asshole!”

  Rick released him. He could have sworn his brother actually looked proud of him. “Way to go, baby bro. You earned this.”

  “Thanks.” Adam leaned in to speak into his brother’s ear. “Let’s grab a minute alone later, okay?”

  Rick looked at him with uncertainty. “Sure.”

  Adam felt like everyone in the room was demanding his attention: the press, photographers, the Kidco suits, other players . . . he treated each one respectfully, but in the back of his mind, the celebration wouldn’t officially begin until the most important person in the arena arrived.

  When he caught sight of Ray trying—and failing—to gain a place inside the locker room door, Adam jumped up on the nearest bench and yelled for people to make way for his best friend. Ray, with Jasper by his side, was able to motor right up to him.

  “Never thought you’d do it, you fuckin’ loser,” Ray said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  Adam picked the Cup up off the floor. “You can only have it for a minute. I don’t want your germs on it.”

  “Hand it over, douche bag.”

  Adam felt a lump form in his throat as he placed the Cup on his friend’s lap, holding it steady while Ray closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the cold silver. You robbed him of this. You—

  Ray’s eyes were still closed when he said, “I know what you’re thinking, you jack wagon. Cut it out.”

  Adam laughed.

  Ray opened his eyes. “That’s enough. You can take it away,” he commanded. Adam lifted it from his lap and put it on the bench.

  Michael Dante let out a loud whistle and hopped onto the bench next to the Cup. “All right, guys,” he yelled. “Time to hit Dante’s, then the team-only after party is at the Hart.”

  The locker room filled with claps and whistles. The Stanley Cup champions were ready to roll.

  39

  Once the locker room cleared out, Adam and Rick finally had a chance to talk.

  “I really appreciate you coming,” Adam told his brother, tossing him a bottle of beer.

  Rick looked offended. “What? My baby brother is in the finals, and he thinks I won’t be there?”

  “I know this was hard for you,” Adam said carefully.

  Rick clenched his jaw. “Yeah, it’s hard. Not because I envy what you’ve become, but because things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be. I’m the big brother; I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way round.”

  “You have taken care of me.”

  Rick snorted. “Fuck off. What are you talking about?”

  Adam took a slug of beer. “Who defended me to Dad when he’d bitch about spending money on ‘fancy’ hockey equipment, or driving me to practice when it was twenty below outside? You. If you hadn’t run interference, I’m pretty sure he would have pulled the plug on me. But you fought for me. I owe a lot of where I am today to you.”

  Rick looked ill at ease.

  “I know my helping out is hard on you. But that’s what family’s for, bro. I pull you up when times are tough; you pulled me up when times were tough. Who was fuckin’ there for me when I paralyzed Ray?”

  “Adam—”

  “No, I’m not going to let you be modest. I would have been swallowed up by depression if it weren’t for you.”

  The brothers looked at each other for a moment, saying nothing.

  “So we’re cool?” Adam asked. The brothers embraced.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. You ready to party?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Let’s head out to Brooklyn and show ’em how real Canadian boys party.”

  They clinked their beer bottles together. “Amen.”

  40

  Inside the Hart, the party was already in full swing. Adam scanned the room looking for Sinead, but when he didn’t see her, he assumed she was in the kitchen helping her mother. Christie was at her usual station behind the bar, along with Sinead’s uncle Jimmy and her dad. There were tubs of iced champagne and beer. And music. Loud, pumping music.

  Sinead’s father broke into a wide grin. “Congrats, boyo.”

  Adam grinned back. “Thanks.” He hoisted the Cup up onto the bar. Sinead’s father and uncle jostled to take hold of it. Sinead’s father won.

  “Amazing,” he marveled. “Sweet Christ, it weighs a ton.”

  “Give it over,” said Sinead’s uncle Jimmy. “You shouldn’t be holding it, anyway, with your bad back.”

  “Eejit.” Sinead’s father handed the Cup over to his brother, who made a noble effort to hold it aloft but failed miserably. “You’re right,” he said with a small grimace as he put the trophy back on top of the bar. “Weighs more than you, Charlie.”

  Christie smiled warmly at Adam. “Congrats.”

  “Thanks. You switch shifts at the firehouse to work here tonight?”

  “Yup. Wouldn’t miss it for anything. Plus I’m used to being surrounded by rowdy, macho guys.” She eyed the Cup. “Is it good luck to touch it?”

  Adam pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Probably.”

  “So if I do, will it guarantee that all the guys I meet from now on aren’t egomaniacs or gay?”

  “Can’t hurt,” said Adam.

  Christie touched the Cup.

  “Let me know if it works,” said Adam with amusement.

  “Can I get you anything special?” Sinead’s dad offered.

  “Nah. The beer and champagne are fine.”

  “All right, then.” Sinead’s dad jerked his head in the direction of the dining room. “Get in there with your teammates, Captain.”

  “Will do.” Adam lifted the Cup off the bar. “Sinead in the kitchen?”

  “Of course she is. Waiting for you and hiding. You know that girl and parties.”

  Adam carried the Cup into the dining room amid loud whistles and cheers. The players reminded him of young Greek gods: powerful, in their prime. Most of them were, Adam mused. Not him. In hockey years, he truly was a dinosaur. But it didn’t matter: he finally had everything he wanted, and so far, it was exceeding expectations.

  He put the Cup on a table in the center of the room and headed for the kitchen.

  Mrs. O’Brien’s face went slack with relief at the sight of him. “Thank Christ you’re here, Adam.” She jerked her head in Sinead’s direction. “This one is driving me mad, getting underfoot.”

  “I’m helping!” Sinead protested, stirring a big pot of stew on one of the industrial stoves.

  “You’re harming more than helping, if you ask me,” her mother retorted. “Get that apron off you and go have fun with your man.”

  Adam kissed Sinead’s cheek. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  Sinead took off the apron and squinted at Adam. “You don’t look drunk.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Where are your brother and Ray?”

  “They’re out there. Obviously you haven’t been.”

  Sinead frowned. “You know I’m not good at mingling.”

  “Don’t have a choice, do you? Trust me: you’ll have a good time.”

  Any reservations Sinead had about walking into the Blades party holding Adam’s hand evaporated as soon as she saw how happy everyone was for them. Esa Saari looked especially surprised, particularly when Ray motored over to Sinead and Adam and said loudly, “Has he proposed yet?” It was immediately obvious that theirs was not a casual relationship, even though Ray’s question had mortified Sinead. After that, they had to endure a few bad jokes about “attorney/client privilege,” but overall, it was a great night, apart from Ulf Torkelson’s wife looking Adam up and down like he was a pri
ze bull she wanted to ride.

  It was close to seven a.m. when she, Adam, and the Cup arrived at her apartment. Sinead was in that schizophrenic state where her body was physically exhausted but her mind remained sharp. It would probably be hours before she fell asleep.

  She stifled a yawn as she locked the door behind them. “You tired?” she asked Adam.

  He smiled wearily. “Yes and no. That was a great party.”

  “I was surprised you didn’t get just a tiny bit drunk.”

  “I was buzzed,” Adam protested.

  “True. You were smiling a lot.”

  “That had nothing to do with booze, and everything to do with you—”

  “And the Cup.”

  “Well . . . yeah,” Adam admitted sheepishly.

  Sinead kept waiting for him to put the Cup down, but he didn’t. Then it dawned on her.

  “You want to bring it into the bedroom, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Adam replied as if it were obvious.

  “Would you like to sleep with the Cup, and I’ll bed down in the spare room?”

  “Nah. The Cup probably takes up more room than you do in the bed. I think it’ll be fine on the floor beside me.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  They headed for the bedroom, which was flooded with early morning sun. Sinead hurried over to the windows and quickly pulled down the shades. The bright rays actually hurt her eyes.

  Adam had planted the Cup on “his” side of the bed, close enough for him to reach out and touch.

  “You’re like a little kid on Christmas morning with his favorite toy.” Sinead laughed, taking off her clothing as Adam stripped down as well. They slid between the sheets simultaneously, Adam tenderly wrapping her in his arms.

  “I love you,” he whispered as he positioned himself above her, his mouth dipping down to plant the barest of kisses on her throat.

  “I love you, too.” Sinead didn’t worry anymore about being vulnerable. She knew, as Adam reverently kissed her all over, that he was the one she’d been waiting for.

  As delicately as separating the petals of a flower, Adam pushed her knees apart. Her breath quickened; she knew what was going to happen next, and she was already wet, waiting for him. Adam slid down the length of her body, lifting his head to look into her eyes before he began flicking his tongue between her legs.

  Sinead’s breath quickened as excitement overtook her. Adam took his time, tongue slowly lapping, slowly circling. And then, like a stab of light to her body, he doubled the tempo. Tripled it. Sinead couldn’t hold back; she arched up, her entire body quivering as she screamed with unabashed pleasure.

  She slowly dropped her hips back down on the bed, still shuddering in the simmering aftermath. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Adam lifted his head, looking at her with such love it stunned her. “You never have to thank me for making love to you.”

  Sinead reached out to cup the side of his face. “I’m not thanking you for just that. I’m thanking you for being the man you are.”

  “I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you,” Adam murmured. “I’d just be some pathetic jock with no life outside the rink. You’re my life, Sinead. You make it all worthwhile.”

  Sinead was overwhelmed. Adam grinned sexily and then, getting on all fours, began nibbling his way back up her body, lingering at her breasts to unhurriedly suckle and tease. Sinead twirled her fingers in his hair dreamily. It was taking all of her self-restraint not to drag him up so they were face-to-face, where she could brutally assault his mouth with hers, pressing home the greed threatening to explode inside her.

  Adam must have sensed it; he wasted no time giving her what she wanted. His breathing was hard and ragged as he pressed his lips to hers wildly for a series of hard, bruising kisses. Sinead groaned beneath him as the wonderful, tantalizing heat began once again to build inside her. She pressed against him hard, her body telling him to please, please hurry. Panting, he tore his mouth from hers, the two of them locking eyes. His body glistened with sweat, his gaze so intense and penetrating that she almost had to look away. But she didn’t.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered. Adam obeyed, and then they were moving together, spurring each other to go harder, deeper. Sinead found the flashes of heat going back and forth between them nearly unbearable. It was stripping her raw, making a mockery of her senses. And then, finally, the beautiful, explosive, overwhelming release. But Adam wasn’t there yet; a new shock of pleasure jolted her as he reached for her hands, twining their fingers together as he moaned low. Moving deep inside her, he gave himself over to his own final pleasure.

  41

  THREE YEARS LATER

  “There’s my girl.”

  Sinead put down her briefcase and crouched, opening her arms so her two-year-old daughter, Nina, could fly into them.

  “Mommmmyyyy!”

  Sinead hugged her tight, covering her face in kisses before picking her up and leaning over to kiss Adam. “How was your day?”

  “Long,” said Adam. He tugged on Nina’s curls. “But we had fun, didn’t we, Bug?”

  “What did you do?” Sinead asked Nina.

  “Played tag! And had a picnic in my room!”

  “Lucky you!”

  Nina wriggled to be released, so Sinead lowered her back down to the floor gently.

  “Now what?” Nina asked eagerly.

  “Now you let Daddy rest a little bit so he can talk to Mommy,” said Adam.

  “Why don’t you come draw at the kitchen table while Mommy and Daddy make dinner?” said Sinead.

  “Oh! Kay!” Nina ran ahead of them into the kitchen.

  Sinead kicked her heels off, massaging the sole of her right foot. “God, traffic was hell.”

  “You say that every Thursday.”

  “I know.”

  Adam kissed her softly. “Mmm, this is my favorite day of the week.”

  “Me, too. I don’t realize how much I miss you guys until I get in the car and start the drive home. It seems to take forever.”

  When Sinead found out she was pregnant soon after she and Adam married, they knew they had to find a middle ground. Sinead wanted to take maternity leave, but she didn’t want to quit work completely. They decided she would stay home part-time. The rest of the time, the baby would be taken care of by a nanny.

  But by the time Nina was born, things had changed radically. Adam, wanting to end his career on a high note, retired from hockey, and he was now a full-time, stay-at-home dad. Monday through Thursday, Sinead stayed in her own apartment while working in the city. Then on Thursday night, she drove up to their house in Bearsville to be with her family until Sunday night. Sometimes Adam and Nina came down to New York and stayed with her. They’d have dinner with Sinead’s family, or Sinead would stay home with Nina while Adam went to see the Blades play. More often than not, though, it was just the three of them relaxing at home. Both she and Adam believed it was important that Nina see where Mommy lived part of the week and that she feel comfortable staying there. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but it gave both of them what they wanted: Sinead could keep working, and Adam could live in the country.

  Nina was already at the table, her face scrunched up in intense concentration as she scribbled on a piece of blank paper. “Look at her,” Sinead murmured to Adam worriedly. “God, she looks so focused. I hope she doesn’t take after me.”

  “What, type A personality?” Adam teased, pulling out a bottle of Belgian beer.

  “Yeah.”

  With a flourish, Nina finished the picture and handed it to Sinead.

  “What’s this?” Sinead asked, wide-eyed with interest, even though there was nothing really discernible on the paper. It was just a bunch of squiggly lines.

  “A picture of Daddy.”

  “Daddy doing what?”

  “Dancing with monkeys.”

  “Wow!” Sinead said, amazed. “I didn’t know there were monkeys up here.”

  “There are.” N
ina took a fresh piece of paper, and with her nose practically touching the table, began another drawing.

  Sinead tapped Adam on the shoulder, where he stood opening the beer.

  “What’s up?”

  “Look how close her nose is to the paper,” she said quietly. “Do you think she might need glasses?”

  Adam rolled his eyes, but he looked amused. “No. You know, thank God it’s me who’s the stay-at-home parent.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if it were you, she’d be going to the doctor every three days. That is, if you were willing to take her out of the bubble.”

  “That’s not true,” Sinead insisted. She glanced back at her daughter. “Okay, it is,” she reluctantly admitted, taking the glass of beer Adam handed to her.

  “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll give her a home eye exam,” said Adam dryly. “And an intelligence test. I think she might be falling behind memorizing torts.”

  Sinead gave him a dirty look. “You are so not funny.”

  Across the table from where Nina sat doodling was a stack of the daily newspapers Adam liked to get, mainly for the sports coverage: the Post, the Sentinel, and the Daily News.

  “How are the Blades doing?” Sinead asked, as she began taking the fixings for salad out of the fridge.

  “Off to a solid start,” said Adam, beer in hand, as he stared out the large kitchen window into the woods. “Jason’s a good captain. Everyone knew I was just keeping the C warm for him. I was the bridge between the Ty and Michael generation and the new generation.”

  Sinead wrapped her arms around him from behind. “You miss it, don’t you?”

  Adam turned to look at her. “Of course I do,” he admitted. “But it was good to retire at the top of my game. I didn’t want to be one of those guys who don’t know when it’s time to hang it up. Besides, the game is really changing. Now that I’m gone, they’ll easily be able to institute new rules about unintentional hits to the head.”

  “Bet you never thought you’d be doing this.”

  Adam switched places with her, standing behind her and rubbing her shoulders.