by Meader, Kate
Mia walked to the outer suite and waited, digging nails into her palms, her nerves stretched taut. When Selena appeared, she took a seat and looked at Mia expectantly.
“First, I want to apologize for what Cal said to you last night. I know Harper and Isobel have probably already done that, but I wanted to say it again. That was not his place.”
Selena placed both hands in her lap. “I assume you told him some version of events that produced that attack dog response.”
“I told him the truth. But I didn’t ask him to get into it with you. That was uncalled for.”
“Well, I expect he had been drinking. Not that it’s an excuse to make threats of bodily violence.”
Cal was perfectly sober when Mia spoke with him later. He knew exactly what he was doing, and while she didn’t need his defense, she’d had a night to toss and turn about it and become more appreciative.
Cal was her champion and her friend. He might not love her the way she wanted or needed, but he cared and that’s where his actions of last night stemmed from—his big-hearted generosity.
Selena was still talking. “But he’s here today to make amends as I requested.”
Oh, how this woman loved to wield her power over people. Mia wanted to slap the smug right off her face.
“Before I can move forward with the franchise negotiations,” Selena continued, her tone more confident now that she assumed this wasn’t going to play out so badly after all. “I will expect that apology which he hasn’t quite got around to making. While it’s sweet of you and the other surrogates to step up, I think that the wrong doer should take responsibility here.”
“Wow, you are one self-righteous, hypocritical bitch, Selena.”
Those gray eyes went as wide as the saucers of Harper’s very fine tea service. “This really isn’t the way back into my good graces, Mia.”
“What are you going to do? Call Coach Lindhoff and get me thrown off the Olympic team? Start another whisper campaign that ruins my chances of a spot with a pro franchise? I don’t think so, Selena. You took advantage of my inexperience and youth a couple of years ago and crafted the narrative. Your son did something wrong. Then to compound it, you did something wrong. And when you had a chance to put it right, you kept doing something wrong. And I put up with it.”
“Now Mia—”
“I put up with it because I didn’t want to upset anyone. Because I believed you when you said you’d look out for me and make sure my career wouldn’t be affected. You took advantage of my shame and you made it worse by implying I was the one at fault. That I’d asked for it. But you’re wrong. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t do anything wrong except trust the wrong people. Now I have my spot on the team and you can blab to Lindy all you want if you don’t like what I have to say about it.”
Selena sat up straight. “Maybe I will.”
“Too late.”
Two blotchy spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “What?”
“I called Coach Lindhoff about thirty minutes ago and gave him a heads up. I told him that I’ll be heading down to Biddeford for training next week but that I’d run into a PR problem with the NWHL and I thought as the head coach of Team USA, he might want to be aware of it.”
Genuine fear replaced that supercilious tone. “What did you tell him?”
“That you and I have a, let’s call it, fractious history because of my relationship with your son. That Drew shared some intimate photos of me with his buddies and managed to skate by. That I’ve been paying penance for it ever since.”
Her eyes turned as cold as the Rebels’ practice ice. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh no? Well, there’s a truism about public relations and spin doctoring known as ‘the first lie wins,’ Selena. The flip side to this is so does the first truth. Did you know Lindy has two daughters? One of them’s a freshman at the University of Massachusetts. She’s lettering in track and field but Lindy really wishes she played hockey. We had a good laugh about that. The other is graduating high school. He adores them! And he has that duty of care to all those girls on the team. He wasn’t too pleased to hear my version of events. And while you can deny all you want, I will take you to court if you call me a liar. I have my brother and the Rebels organization behind me. I don’t think you realize the power of that.”
For a while there, she had forgotten this power. And she’d forgotten her own.
A phone rang, and they both looked up to find Vadim, his assassin-cold eyes ready to do serious damage.
“Your phone’s been ringing, Selena.” He handed it over to her, and she took it, checking it quickly before turning it over in her lap.
“Wonder who that is,” Mia murmured. She chanced a look at her brother, dreading his approbation. His gaze softened on meeting hers and she knew that Isobel had told him.
She also knew he still loved her.
Selena looked like her head was about to explode. “You think you’ve won something here? I can make sure you never play in the NWHL.”
The gloves were off, the veil ripped away, and in front of her brother, too. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you, Selena?”
Her lips hardly moved as she murmured something unintelligible.
“You’re finished in women’s hockey. Because while I’ve only told Lindy, something like that won’t stay a secret for long. Whisper campaigns have a habit of spiraling out of control. Funny how that works.”
Selena’s mouth wobbled and her eyes widened, taking in the new arrivals from Harper’s office. Mia’s family, and that included Cal. Not the way she wanted, but he was her friend, and right now her friend looked pretty damn proud of her.
“Mia, this has been a terrible misunderstanding,” Selena said, her tone sweetening to conciliation. “I’m sure we can work out something.”
“That’s what I thought when you came to my dorm and said you wanted to help. But I’m a little more cynical about offers like that these days. Shows what two years living and learning does for you.”
Harper dropped Selena’s purse beside her chair, and said in a tone no-one ever wanted to hear, “Selena, I think you should leave now.”
29
Cal leaned against his car, on the lookout toward the street ahead. Thirty minutes ago, he had witnessed something amazing.
Justice in action.
Better yet, justice wielded by a mighty woman, the bravest person he knew. The way she had stood up to Selena Fabien would stay etched on his memory as long as he lived. He loved it when the good guys win.
Now was the time for Mia to heal and draw on the strength of her family. Vadim would have questions and was probably interrogating her right this minute. That made Cal smile, knowing that Vadim’s demands always stemmed from love. Cal felt privileged to have been in the inner circle for a brief time, but he wasn’t fool enough to think he had a shot at staying there.
A car pulled up in the space beside his, its driver peering at him with the usual dark scowl, only now colored by surprise. Cal liked the idea of putting this asshole on the back foot for once.
Reid Durand stepped out of his SUV. More interesting, the man was soaking wet. His dark hair was plastered to his head, his sweats and tee were molded to his body, and his running shoes squelched with each step.
“Been swimming?”
“Something like that.” He opened the back door and carefully removed a bundle, wrapped in a blanket. The bundle squirmed, and Cal realized it was alive.
Mission forgotten, he stepped forward. “You need a hand there?”
Reid blinked as if the notion was foreign to him. Cal saw the moment he let something inside him go.
“Yeah, I do. Could you …?” He passed the blanket-wrapped package to Cal.
It was a dog, an ugly mutt with one eye missing, scars over the other brow, and what looked like a recently-healed gash on the top of his head. This puppy had had a rotten day. A rotten life. Hell, Cal knew the feeling.
“I—well, w
e pulled him out of the lake.” It was the first time Cal had ever heard Durand sound unsure about anything. “I need to get him warm and feed him. I don’t think he’s eaten in a while.”
Reid was right. The dog was bag of bones, still shivering, though he was swaddled in a plaid blanket that Reid must have had in his car. Following Reid inside his apartment building, Cal tried to soothe the puppy in his arms with the same nonsense he would usually deliver to Bobby O after a visit to the vet.
Three floors up and inside Reid’s apartment, Cal placed the dog down gently on the sofa. “I’m guessing you don’t have any dog food.”
“No, but I can go out and get some.”
Reid shivered as he spoke, and looking closer, Cal noticed that a bruise had formed above his jawline where Cal had struck him earlier. Plenty of time to deal with that. For now, they had a different mission.
“Got any deli turkey or corn?” Cal asked. “Those are pretty safe foods for dogs.”
Reid nodded and headed toward the kitchen.
“I can take care of this. Why don’t you hop in the shower?”
The Canadian grump flicked a glance at the dog.
“I have a dog of my own,” Cal assured him. “He’ll be safe for a few minutes.”
Reid nodded his assent and bent over the dog, running a gentle hand over the mutt’s head, touching the scars with reverence. “I will be back soon.”
Cal heated up the frozen corn in the microwave, mixed it with some turkey slices torn into small pieces and put it in a bowl beside the sofa. It might make a mess but Durand wouldn’t care. Gently, Cal laid the dog next to the bowl, making sure his snout was close enough to get the scent. The little fella gave a tentative sniff, then another, before finding a burst of strength and descending on the food like he hadn’t eaten in an age.
“Slow down, buddy.”
Cal headed into the kitchen and grabbed another bowl, filled with water. When he got back to the living room, the food bowl was clean and the dog was resting on the wool rug like he’d just run a marathon.
“Good job.”
Less than five minutes later, Durand was back after what had to be the fastest shower in history, a dollop of foam above his ear testifying to his haste. He either didn’t trust Cal (distinctly possible) or wanted to immediately return to his role as rescuer and caregiver (the preferred theory).
“How is he?” Reid sat on the rug beside the dog and ran a hand over the mutt’s head.
“Tuckered out after a snack and the afternoon’s festivities.”
Reid turned his attention to Cal. “Are you here to apologize?”
“Yep.”
That earned Cal a Durand special—a sneer of such disdain anyone might think the guy had a problem with his teammate. Ah, the Reid Durand Cal knew and loved. “Not necessary.”
“I happen to think it is. Sure you were a dick. You are a dick. An apology from me doesn’t change that, but I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
Reid assessed him. “Sometimes it’s good to let it out.”
“That’s what the game is for.”
“Pity you don’t get enough shifts, then.”
Cal couldn’t help laughing, and amazingly Durand offered a smile in return. “We’re having a moment here. Why you wanna be an asshole about it?”
“Someone’s got to be in my family.”
Reid wasn’t the only Durand playing pro hockey. His brother, Bastian, was on the Hawks roster across town. Much had been made in the media about both brothers playing in the same city at last, and everyone was eager to watch the Rebels-Hawk rivalry go to the next level.
“How did your friend end up in the lake?”
“There are no limits to people’s cruelty.” Reid hadn’t taken his hand off the dog since he sat down beside him. He peered up at Cal. “Looks like you’ve sorted things out with Petrov.”
“For the most part.”
“And La Petrova?”
“Not sure that’s fixable.”
“Now who’s the dick?” A couple of moments passed before Reid spoke again. “That performance last night at the auction? She bid on you to make a point.”
“Yeah, the point being that she can buy and sell me a million times over and then pass me off to my ex.” Though even Cal didn’t truly believe that now. If a woman with all that fire and heat, a woman like Mia, was angry enough to do that then later kiss him like Cal was her oxygen, then maybe he had it all wrong. Maybe he had been too blinded by this Tommy-Bethany business to see what was really going on.
Durand summed it succinctly. “You’re even dumber than you look.”
Probably. He was also hungry. He’d spotted a nice hunk of aged Gouda in the fridge earlier. “Mind if I make a sandwich?”
“Yes.”
Cal figured that Durand might not always mean what he said and headed back into the kitchen to make a couple of Cal Foreman masterpieces on wheat.
* * *
Vadim was angry, Isobel had moved on to sadness, and Mia was wishing she’d pulled on her big girl panties and fessed up from the start.
They both still loved her. She knew because they told her. Embarrassingly so.
Later that afternoon, she came down from taking a shower to find Vadim on the patio poking at the fire pit. There was a nip in the early November air and dusk was descending fast, the last streaks of twilight dueling with the flames for dominance over the dark.
The franchise negotiations were on hold and Harper and Isobel were working the phones to make sure Mia’s side of the story came out on top. The next few weeks would be tough, but Mia would weather it with these amazing people at her side.
She hovered, waiting for her brother to speak now that he’d had time to process. If she knew anything about Vadim, it was that he needed time to brood.
Peering up at her, he pulled back the sofa’s blanket, an invitation for her to accept his fraternal shelter. She cuddled up to him and sighed.
“I am still mad,” he said.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Not at you. Never at you. I wish you could have trusted me. Somehow you thought it was better not to tell me and that is my fault.”
“This was never about trust, Vad. At least, not about me trusting you. It was more that I didn’t trust my own instincts. I’d gotten it so wrong with Drew, thought I had figured out a solution, yet my prospects were a mess. You’ve always been there for me, fixing things. My cancer. Setting me up to be financially independent. And you’ve also seen me as fragile. I wanted to show how strong I was, fixing it myself.”
Her brother kissed the top of her head. “I should be the one protecting you. If I’d known I would have made a visit—”
“And you’d be suspended, maybe even prosecuted for assault. It would have all come out. I didn’t want it to come out. I was too embarrassed. I preferred it was swept under the rug.”
An aristocratic eyebrow scooted upward. “But you told Cal.”
“Foreman weaseled it out of me. It’s a talent of his.”
“He took advantage of you.”
She pointed a finger because she saw where this was going. “No, he did not. If anything I took advantage of him. I made him play my game, so I could get with—oh, God.” She’d hoped the revelations were over but she may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.
“What are you saying, Mia?”
“Cal and I—it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did.”
“You and Cal?” Her brother looked furious, but then immediately switched to amusement. “You could do worse.”
Vadim was okay with this? “I thought you hated the idea. You warned me off him.”
“Which did not work.” Her brother smiled, a little bit of Machiavelli in there.
The sneaky little … “You planned this all along?”
“You are not the only one in this family who likes to plan things.” He held her gaze. “But it seems he does not have the courage to claim you despite my approval.”
; “It’s not that. He sees me as a friend, that’s all. He’s been giving me advice on how to attract a guy I liked. Someone else.”
“Tommy.”
She stood so quickly that Gordie Howe barked in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“Cal told me that you are in love with Tommy. Which will not be happening, by the way.”
Setting aside the arrogance of Vadim’s tone, she tried to wrap her head around Cal sharing the Tommy factor with her brother.
“When did this happen?”
“This morning after practice. Oh, and after he got into a fight with Reid Durand.”
“No!”
Vadim had the nerve to look amused. “For someone who likes to avoid conflict, he is certainly making up for it now.”
Cal was fighting teammates and spilling his guts to Vadim? Who was this person? She hadn’t spoken to him after her conversation with Selena. As Vadim cornered her to demand an explanation, even though Isobel had already filled him in, Cal had slipped away from the Rebels’ front office. He was ready to apologize to Selena and make up for his error, but once that was no longer needed, he didn’t wait around to celebrate her victory.
Cal cared, but not enough to be what she needed. Compromise was no longer an option for Mia, not after two years spent letting others drive the narrative.
“So, are you in love with Tommy as Cal has claimed?”
She sank back to the sofa, feeling more miserable than ever. Her heart was bursting with love for a certain rough-and-ready mouthy Southie and it hurt not to be able to deliver it.
“No, not Tommy.”
“Good. I will be firing him anyway but it would have been awkward to have to see him over holiday dinners.”
“What? Why are you firing him?”
“Because he had an affair with Bethany.”
“Cal’s Bethany?” Her mind reeled. Surely, she had heard that wrong. “That’s not—are you certain?”
Vadim looked annoyed to have his word questioned. “Yes, I am certain. Of course Cal should have told me years ago but he didn’t want to upset me. Me! As if I am prone to get emotional about these things.”