I’m enormously proud of him. He’s playing second line center for the Blaze, and though his hip is more prone to exertion and soreness than before, he’s doing well. When he feels tempted to drink, he tells me and we talk it through.
Amelia walks into the apartment, laughing. I hear a deep male laugh and know Paul must be with her. They’re pretty much inseparable these days when neither of them is working. He’s a good guy, and I’m glad to see my best friend so happy.
“Let me see!” Amelia calls out as she walks toward the bathroom.
When she gets there, she squeals with excitement. “I love it, Gravy. Oh my God, you’re so beautiful.” She grabs my hand. “Come out here and show Paul!”
“That’s not nec—”
“Baby, look at Graysen’s hair!” she cries. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Paul grins and nods. “Looks good on you.”
“Thanks.”
I reach up and touch my curls, now a shade lighter and brighter. I had a couple inches trimmed off, too. Between my new hair and the pale blue blouse I bought this afternoon to wear with my jeans and heels tonight, I feel prettier than I have in a long time.
“Is he picking you up?” Amelia asks me.
“No, I wanted to meet him at the restaurant.”
“Right. Less temptation to get it on after dinner.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure Paul really wanted to know that.”
“Ah, he’s used to it.” Amelia waves a hand. “I tell him everything.”
I change the subject. “What are you guys doing tonight?”
“Watching a movie here and getting some food delivered.”
It will probably be the first night Paul and Amelia have been alone at our place since they met. I’m always around—the proverbial third wheel.
I finish getting dressed and touch up my makeup real quick before calling an Uber to take me to Magnolia, the downtown restaurant I’m meeting Alexei at. When I see him waiting for me at our table, my heart hammers with excitement.
He looks even better than he did before. Clean-shaven, with his hair cut shorter and styled on the top, he seems younger and fresher. He’s also leaner than when I last saw him, his hard work in the gym showing in his broad shoulders and the biceps filling out the sleeves of his dress shirt.
“Graysen.” He steps away from his seat to greet me before I even make it to the table, drawing me into his arms. “You look beautiful.”
I hold him tight, closing my eyes and taking in his scent—soapy, with notes of coffee and light cologne. He hugs me back, both of us refusing to let go.
The host who was leading me to our table clears his throat and says, “Enjoy your dinner,” before heading back to the front of the restaurant.
I could hug Alexei forever, though. I force myself to pull away from him, and he rounds the table to pull out my chair.
“You did something different with your hair,” he says. “I like it.”
“Thanks.”
As soon as he’s seated across from me, he holds up a shiny silver medallion—his six-month sobriety marker. His grin melts me.
“I’m really proud of you,” I tell him. “That can’t have been easy.”
“There have been times I was tempted,” he admits. “But overall, it hasn’t been that bad. I think of it like a dietary restriction for training. I’m faster and sharper than I was when I was drinking, and I like that.”
“You scored two goals in one game the other night, that was exciting to watch.”
“I feel better than ever. But my AA sponsor tells me to be vigilant anyway. He says overconfidence can lead to thinking you’re able to handle alcohol in moderation.”
“I’ve seen people fall into that trap.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “It’s so good to see you, Graysen.”
“You, too.”
We hardly even look away from each other when placing our dinner orders. Alexei tells me about the new teammates he’s closest to, and the one they all like to prank just to get a reaction out of him. He shows off photos of himself with his two baby nieces, Ella and Irina.
“They’re beautiful,” I say, sighing.
The girls’ parents, Anton and Mia, are in some of the photos, both of them looking over the moon with happiness. I can feel their joy through the phone screen.
“Do you want kids?” Alexei asks me.
I laugh, caught off guard. “Kids? I’m not sure.”
He lowers his brows, looking concerned. “Why not? I think you’d be a great mom.”
“Thank you. It’s…complicated, I guess.”
“Because of your parents,” he says. He knows me so well already.
“Yeah.”
“Tell me more about it.”
“Hey, that’s my line,” I tease.
He shrugs. “I learned to extract information from the best, what can I say?”
I sigh heavily. “My childhood was very dysfunctional, you already know that. My dad was an alcoholic and he was a mean drunk. I lived in fear of him a lot of the time. And my mom, she refused to see things as they were. If he hit her, she’d say she shouldn’t have made him mad.”
“Damn, I didn’t know it was that bad. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “I’ve overcome a lot of it, honestly. I’ve spent years in therapy. I haven’t had contact with my dad in almost ten years. He says I think I’m too good for him, but the truth is, I just refuse to put up with his shit. He and my mom have broken up and gotten back together so many times I’ve lost count. Last I knew she was shacked up with a drug dealer.”
He squeezes my hand, emotion pooled in his eyes. “Why are you unsure about kids? You’re nothing like either of your parents.”
“I guess…I know in a textbook way how to be a good parent. And I’ve seen it in action, too, in Amelia’s family. But given the way I grew up and what I see at work every day, I just worry. I can do everything in my power to give my children a peaceful, happy life, but…it’s not all up to me, you know?”
Alexei nods. “You worry that I’d take up drinking again.”
“No, it’s not…I don’t know. There are so many things that can go wrong.”
“What about all the things that could go right?”
I smile at his use of another one of my tactics.
“I wasn’t sure I could risk falling for a recovering alcoholic,” I say. “You know that. But in the past six months, I’ve come to accept that it’s outside my control, anyway—I’ve already fallen. I know there’s always a possibility of hurt, and I’m willing to take that on for myself. But for kids…it’s different.”
“I get it. Not being in control is hard for you.”
My mouth falls open in surprise. “You’ve already figured out what it took me a long time in therapy during college to see in myself.”
“Oh, you’re a total control freak, babe. But you come by it honestly.”
“Do you want kids?” I ask, wondering if this is a future deal breaker for us.
“I never really thought about it until Anton became a dad. I do want kids, if I can change your mind about it.”
I try to pull my hand away, but he shakes his head and keeps holding on.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says softly. “Two people in a relationship need to be on the same page about the big stuff, yada yada.”
I smile. “I wasn’t thinking the yada yada part.”
Alexei’s expression is serious. “You fell in love with a hard case. I’m a recovering alcoholic, and I always will be. I fell in love with a hard case, too, though. You’ve been treated like shit in the past and you’ve got trust and control issues. You accept me as I am, and I want you to know…it’s the same for me. I accept you as you are. I’ve spent every day since I left rehab working to earn your trust, and I’ll never stop.”
Tears form and spill over onto my cheeks before I can hold them back. Alexei already knows me so well. His words are a balm on my wounded heart.
Whe
n our dinner comes, it’s the most elegant, delicious meal I’ve ever had. We eat slowly, sharing bites with each other and savoring both the food and our time together. I never thought I’d be a woman who gazes across the table at a man adoringly, but with Alexei, I so am.
After three hours, we reluctantly get up to leave. Every step we take toward the door makes my heart a little heavier, because this is it. Alexei won’t be coming home with me. I’m not ready for that yet. It’s only been six months. But tonight has given me a taste of what we could be, and I don’t want it to end.
“I’m going to Kauai with a bunch of teammates and their wives in a few weeks,” he tells me as we wait for my Uber on the sidewalk. “Luca has a beach house there, and the team does a big trip there every offseason. I know you probably don’t want to, but—”
“It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“I know. But if you want to come, we can do separate rooms. I just want to be with you, Graysen.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “The trip, I mean. I want to be with you, too.”
His lips turn up in a smile as he takes my face in his hands and leans down, his lips brushing over mine in a soft, gentle kiss. My entire body warms as he deepens the kiss, my arms unconsciously sliding around his waist. We’re both breathless by the time he pulls away.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” he says.
“Oh,” I say, too dazed to say anything more eloquent.
Alexei smirks as my phone buzzes, announcing my Uber arrival. He walks me to the car and opens the door, kissing me one last time before I get in.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say.
“Thank you for seeing me. Text me when you get home.”
I get into the car and he closes the door. The whole evening felt like a dream, and I can’t stop smiling.
“Hey, was that Alexei Petrov?” my Uber driver asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “The guy who plays for the Blaze?”
“Yes, it was.”
He scoffs. “I hear that guy’s practically a priest since he went to rehab. Just like his brother now. Nothing! No booze, no women, no fun, if you ask me.” He laughs, but stops suddenly. “Sorry, I guess you’re a woman.”
“I guess so.”
My tone tells him to stop talking, because I’m not letting anything ruin my good mood tonight.
22
Alexei
Three months later
“You coming or what, douchebag?” Victor asks me, glaring as I wrap up my phone call with Graysen. “I’m fuckin’ starving.”
“You’re always fuckin’ starving, man. Give me five minutes.”
“I’m gonna give you my foot in your ass if you don’t get down to the lobby in the next one minute.” He closes the door to my hotel room, and I can hear him grumbling as he walks away.
That guy and food—it’s ridiculous. We’re on our first preseason road trip of the new hockey season, and he’s already bitching about how hungry he is.
“Hey babe, I have to go,” I tell Graysen over the phone. “Vic wants to leave for lunch and I think the rest of the guys are all waiting for me.”
“Okay, have fun. I’ll be watching the game tonight on my computer. Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you after. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
We just officially started our relationship, after the longest nine months of my life. Not being with Graysen has hands down been harder for me than not drinking. I can finally say she’s mine, and it feels damn good.
I’m ready to start a new chapter in my life and a new season with the Blaze after the worst offseason I’ve ever experienced. Anton and Mia’s daughter Ella contracted a respiratory infection right before we were supposed to go to Kauai, so none of us went. That infection morphed into more and little Ella ended up in the ICU.
Anton and Mia wouldn’t leave her side, even when Martin, Laura and I offered to relieve them so they could sleep or shower at home. I was able to help my adoptive parents take care of Irina, who we all call Ree, though. It was the first time I’ve ever felt like I was someone Anton could rely on.
Ella was hospitalized for more than a month, and right before she was released, Martin had a mild heart attack. Fortunately, he was at the hospital to see Ella when it happened and was able to be treated quickly.
I took my family for granted once, when all I cared about was the next party or the next buzz, but I never will again. Graysen came to sit with me at the hospital as often as she could around her work schedule, and my family loves her. She already feels like one of us.
I grab a baseball hat and my phone and head down to the lobby, where two oversized vans are waiting to take our entire team and staff out for lunch.
We’re in St. Louis, and even though there aren’t a lot of great restaurants surrounding our hotel, there’s a collective groan when my van pulls up at a Chinese buffet called Wok This Way.
“The fuck, dude?” Dante mutters. “The brass must’ve cut our travel budget.”
“We just don’t have a lot of time before you guys have to be at the rink,” the van driver says.
“Let’s go,” Vic says, herding everyone out of the van. “I’m not too good for chicken fried rice, you snobby bitches.”
They’re not busy, so we’re able to get a side room all to ourselves. Everyone heads for the buffet immediately, cleaning out the trays of food and leaving the staff scrambling to refill them.
I sit next to Anton, who’s grinning at photos of his daughters on his phone in between bites of his food. The guy went from grouchy bastard to goofy daddy about five seconds after those girls came into the world.
“Look at Ree. See how she’s waving at me here,” he says, holding up the phone so I can lean in for a better look.
“That’s cute.”
Easy glances at me from across the table and asks, “Did your new stick get delivered in time?”
“Yeah, I got it a couple days ago. It’s fuckin’ sick, dude.”
One of our assistant coaches stands up to talk about a retired longtime Blaze player who passed away during the offseason. Matt’s very long-winded, and most of the guys go through another two plates of food while he talks, not caring if anyone’s listening.
“Anyway…to Michael,” he says, holding up his mug of hot tea.
Everyone drinks to the goalie who lived to be eighty-three, the room quiet. Just as Anton’s setting his glass down on the table, he looks over at me, his expression somewhat puzzled.
“I’m hot,” he says. “And dizzy.”
He shoves his plate aside and lays his head down directly on the table, pressing his glass of ice water to his cheek. I immediately look around for one of our trainers, Rob, and call him over. He’s almost made his way to us when Anton slides his head off the table and vomits all over the floor—and my shoes, bare legs and shorts.
“Fuck, dude,” I mutter. “Really?”
It’s undigested Chinese food puke—and it smells bad. I stand up and look around, my situation beyond help from napkins.
Rob gets to Anton, who’s still doubled over in his chair, and puts a hand on his back.
“Hey, Anton,” Rob says. “What’s—oh, shit.”
He races away from the table, running with his legs close together, like his ass cheeks are clenched.
“Sorry, I have to shit right fuckin’ now,” he calls out.
There’s a loud groan from another table, and I look over and see our goalie Jonah trying to stand up, gripping the back of his chair for support.
“I’m gonna be sick,” he mumbles.
I look across the table at Easy, whose eyes are wide at the chaos around us.
“What the hell is going on?” I say to no one in particular as Luca makes a run for the bathroom, followed by two other players.
One of our backup goalies, Shuck, tries to go to the bathroom but slips in a puddle of our equipment manager’s puke. It’s like a scene in a movie, guy
s vomiting and others trying to run out of the room. It smells like puke, shit and soy sauce in here.
Anton looks up at me, his expression desperate. “Get me to a hospital.”
I forget about being covered in vomit, and the situation around me. My brother needs me. I reach down and get my arms around him, and between me dragging and him stumbling, we get him across the room to the door.
“I can’t believe I shit my pants,” I hear someone lamenting from behind us.
We leave the nastiness behind as I drag Anton out the front door and set him on a bench, using my phone to summon an Uber.
“Can you wait for an Uber or do you need an ambulance?” I ask him.
“Just fucking kill me,” he mutters, vomiting for a second time all over the sidewalk.
Easy walks out the front door of the restaurant, Vic clutching his arm on one side and Jonah on the other.
“You feel okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Is this food poisoning?”
“It has to be.”
Vic makes a run for the bushes on the side of the building, throwing up immediately.
“We need and ambulance,” I decide, dialing 911. “This is fucking crazy.”
I’m talking to the dispatcher as my Uber pulls up. Anton crawls toward it, mumbling about how he’ll buy the guy a new car if he has to.
“I have to go with him,” I tell Easy. “The ambulance is on its way. I told them we needed more than one.”
“Hey, whoa!” our female Uber driver calls out as Anton crawls into her backseat. “No puking in my car.”
“Just get us to a hospital,” I snap. “He’s really sick. I’ll pay to have your car cleaned if he pukes.”
She rolls her twenty-something eyes at me. “Then I can’t use my car while it’s being cleaned.”
“Just drive,” Anton pleads.
“I’ll pay you for it, all of it,” I promise. “We’re both NHL players. Take us to the nearest hospital now.”
She hits the gas. Anton, curled up on the backseat beside me, throws up all over the floorboards, and the driver groans.
“I’m dying, Alexei,” he whimpers. “I’m gonna shit my pants.”
“Oh no!” The Uber driver yells. “You are NOT shitting in my car!”
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