Home Ice (23 page)

The words hit him like a 100-mile-per-hour slap shot. His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with tears he barely held in check. “Lori …”

“Go. Please just go.” She hugged herself tighter, looking anywhere but in his eyes.

For a minute, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t believe it was ending like this, though he should have known. He wanted to defend himself, show her they could work through it. Tell her that she’d made him twice the man he’d ever been. If there was one thing he never did, it was give up. But she wouldn’t believe him, and he couldn’t stand being the cause of her pain one second longer. He walked out, straight past the cold food, and didn’t stop until he closed the car door. And then the dam broke.

Thursday, April 9th

Showing up to the arena a little later than usual to get her personal practice in had been harder than Lori’d thought. Part of her wanted to go at the usual time and chance seeing Dylan after his practice. A stupid, masochistic part. But willpower won, and she hadn’t run into him all week. It was a relief, and it was crushing. Pushing everything down and not dealing had been the only way to keep going. Every time something reminded her of him, she’d hit the gym or the ice. Eating was tough. Vital to her training and general well-being, but nothing was appetizing, not even Holsteins. Not like she’d be able to go in there anyway without an onslaught of memories.

She went through the new choreography on autopilot, still hitting every line and sequence hard but not thinking about it. Had Val been there, he’d say she wasn’t “in the moment,” and he’d be right. But Val had said practicing every single day for three or more hours at a stretch wasn’t necessary without a competition around the corner, so he’d taken to leaving after the second hour.
You listen to all my
concerns
and go a step beyond. What more can I do?
It didn’t matter. The extra practice wasn’t necessary for her skating. It was necessary for distraction.

Val may have left, but another observer hadn’t budged all morning. She sat in the stands in a pleated, khaki mini skirt, five-inch heels, and a preppy hot pink polo with Diva written in gold glitter across the chest. Margo had let Lori know that she was available for a girls’ night and hovered more than usual on show nights while she did makeup but otherwise didn’t push anything, and Lori had been grateful. But if Margo was sitting through four hours of the same routine, it looked like that reprieve was up.

When Lori grabbed her water bottle and towel from the players’ bench and headed off ice, Margo met her at the tunnel to the lockers. “Lookin’ sharp out there.”

“Thanks.”

“It was only half a compliment. That pretty face has had sharp edges all week and not just because of my killer contouring. Sit with me?”

Lori looked down the hallway and considered her dressing room, but if they talked there, her defenses might come down completely, and once down, they might never go back up. It was safer out in the rink. It was empty at this time of day, but there was always the chance someone could pass by. “Okay.” She took an aisle seat in the front row and a long pull from her water bottle.

Margo sat beside her then moved one seat down. “I love you, baby, but after four hours of intense cardio, I’d love you more with a shower. Not just yet though. You gave me the condensed version of what happened. I need the whole thing. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh, and don’t I know what that means. The
fine
card is for the men in our lives who have an 80 percent shot of saying the wrong thing. With girlfriends, we keep it real.” Under it all, Margo might have a Y chromosome, but she was also the best girlfriend Lori ever had. And she was right.

“I trusted him. I opened myself up and let him get close, and I don’t let
anyone
get close. I didn’t mean to with him, it just … happened. I told him again and again how I felt about him getting involved with the business side of my life, told him how it made me feel less than his equal. But he did it anyway, and he lied to me about it. I’m used to people being two-faced, but I didn’t expect it from him. And there’s no getting past that.”

Margo twisted to better face her and crossed her legs. “Now to me, he’s only got one face. This may seem worse than before, but it’s the same thing. No, he shouldn’t have done it knowing full well how you felt, and he shouldn’t have kept it from you. But that boy cares for you so much that even knowing the possible consequences to himself, he made sure you had the money to keep training, and look where it got you. God knows I understand an independent woman, but the truth is success is a hard road, and no one makes it alone.”

“But the fact that he did it after I said no says that he doesn’t believe I can take care of myself.”

The tough love in Margo’s eyes softened to sympathy. “Are you absolutely sure that’s how he feels? Or is that your own fear talking?”

An automatic denial was on the tip of her tongue, but it wouldn’t come out.
Was
she afraid that she couldn’t really cover her own bases?

“I know it’s a touchy subject, but how did you get sponsors in the past?”

“I guess I didn’t. Since I started competing at the national level, they came to me. Pretty much my whole career. We’d have to turn some down there were so many.”

“But that changed after your injury.”

“Yeah.” For the first time in her life, competing hadn’t been a given. Staying in the public eye became a worry, but finding and keeping sponsors hadn’t weighed on her until … right around the time she started seeing Dylan. A coincidence and not his fault, but it had kicked her insecurities into high gear, and he’d made them worse whether he’d meant to or not.

“Whether you can forgive him is up to you, but I’d hate to see you go on feeling like the man who’s been the most important person in your life didn’t care about you or respect you. If the way he’s been playing is any reflection of his mental state, I’d say you mean more to him than you think. You have been keeping tabs, right?”

“No.”
Yes.
That masochistic side had tuned into the games on TV. He hadn’t been playing his best, but he looked so stoic, it was hard to tell what was really going on.

“Uh-huh. Well they pulled out a win last night, and they need to win tomorrow to make the playoffs.” Impressive how much Margo got across in that statement without voicing the other half of it.

Dylan would be there for her. No matter what was said or done, when it came down to it, if she needed him, he’d be there without question. Whether or not anything else came of it, didn’t she owe the same to him?

Friday, April 10th

Crack! Crack! Crack!
There was something therapeutic about the sound of his stick hitting the puck, sending shot after shot into the net from the blue line. It was mindless, too, which was good, because his brain was burnt out. Every day since he’d left Lori’s apartment had been torture, mental warfare, and he’d been battling with himself. Did he regret what he’d done? He regretted that he’d hurt her. Regretted that he’d risked maybe the most important relationship of his life. But he didn’t regret giving her the opportunity to go to the world championships. She’d deserved it, and if Ron Byers didn’t see that, it wasn’t her fault.

Byers. Making a deal with him had been stupid. No one got to be a billionaire by caring about anyone’s interests but his own. He’d had no personal stock in it. Why would he hesitate to throw Dylan under the bus? Or
help
him, as Ron described it.

Sweat dripped in his eyes, and the next shot pinged off the goalpost. Sleep was almost non-existent, which had the expected effect on his playing. Coach was … Coach. Nealy might have a soft spot for him, but winning was her bottom line, and her sympathy had dried up after the second loss. The win on Wednesday was completely by luck, and they all knew it. It all came down to tonight’s game, and he tried to care but couldn’t. And that was scary.

As long as he could remember, hockey had been the skeleton of his existence. It structured his life, and everything else found a place around it. Hobbies, travel, relationships—it all came second. He didn’t know any other way. Until there was Lori. She’d come out of nowhere and rearranged his internal framework, and he hadn’t even noticed until it was done. The craziest part? He didn’t mind. She’d lit up a part of him he hadn’t known was dark. And he’d messed it up.

“Cole! What the hell are you doing out here?” No mistaking that high-pitched voice.

Already? That meant he’d been shooting pucks for two hours. He stood straight and wiped a glove over his face. “Just getting in some more practice, Coach.”

“I don’t give you enough?”

That was dangerous to answer, so he didn’t, or the team would never forgive him.

“Guess I need to step up my game. Come on, ladies! Cole’s putting you to shame.”

The guys filed out. Some gave him strange looks, others didn’t bother looking at all. That hurt worse. Reese skated to the goal behind him, patting his shoulder on the way. A small sign of support, but it meant a lot. Nealy started them running drills, but true to her word, stepped up her game. That translated to a lot of whistle shrieking, fast skating, faster puck handling, and twenty-three guys ready to meet their maker. By the second half, Dylan could barely move, and no amount of Nealy’s screeching could change that.

Even so, there was no way he’d leave the ice before his team. Dead on his feet, he waited until the last player headed for the locker room before following. Nealy grabbed his elbow and pulled him aside.

“I want you to go home and sleep until the game. That’s an order. But after you talk to Kally. You need … somethin’, kid. And if anyone knows what, it’ll be her. I don’t need to tell you how important tonight is. I need you 100 percent.”

Talking to Kally wouldn’t change what was really wrong, but it couldn’t hurt either, and although Nealy hadn’t said it, the last-minute appointment was an order, too. He showered and put on his game-day athletic shorts, compression T-shirt, knee socks, and Adidas slip-on sandals. Normally those kind of habits centered him and helped him focus. Not today.

He lifted his hand to knock but just opened the door. She’d be expecting him anyway.

“Hey, kiddo.” In his mid-20s now, and everyone still saw him as the baby brother, but when Kally used the term, there was no mistaking the endearment in her voice.

“Hey.” He didn’t wait for her to gesture. He dropped onto the couch and leaned back. His legs wouldn’t have held him up much longer anyway.

She took the armchair across from him, no notepad this time. In a way it was comforting. On the other hand, how fragile did she think he was that a notepad might break him? “I heard about what happened with Lori. I’m sorry.”

“It was my fault. She told me she didn’t want me to sponsor her.”

“Why did you?”

“I’ve been asking myself that. In the back of my mind, I knew this could happen. Probably would happen.”

“But something was more important than staying together?”

“Seeing her happy. I couldn’t be there for the world championship, but I watched on TV. When she won, the look on her face was worth it. It was worth anything. She works harder than anyone I know. Even me. I couldn’t stand seeing her lose it all because some asshole changed his mind.” He sighed and looked down at his hands. “Are you going to tell me I’m the asshole?”

“No. I’m going to tell you you’re in love.”

He glanced up and checked her face, but she wasn’t joking.

“Some people think love is wanting to be with someone all the time or buying things for them, or just saying the words. But real love means wanting the other person to be happy, even if you have to sacrifice. The way you went about it was wrong, but you know that. It doesn’t make you a horrible person. Love takes practice and work. You’re still new at it, so you’ll make mistakes, but practice and work are your specialties.”

He hadn’t said it out loud, but there was nothing else it could be. Nothing else could feel that good or hurt that much. But what good did it do him now? “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Yes, she does. Unfortunately, whether she will is up to her. But in my professional and personal opinion? I think she’ll come around.”

“How do you know?”

Kally smiled. “Experience.”

“So what can I do?”

“The hardest thing. Wait.”

Friday night

The energy of the arena was almost overwhelming. All the games Lori had been to had been packed, but there was an excitement and urgency from ice level all the way up to the box seats. Getting an official ticket would have been impossible, but she had access to the underground entrance and a standing open seat next to the players’ bench.

The lights in the arena went up right as she got there, and the announcer called each player’s name as he skated onto the ice. She stood to the side of the carpet runner, watching them pass. When Dylan went by, he did a double take. Nealy was on his arm, and her reaction was pure relief. Dylan escorted his coach to the bench, but his gaze kept returning to Lori as he waved to the crowd and skated around his end, stretching his legs.

It was hard to look away from him, too. Every cell in her body wanted to run out there, throw her arms around him and talk everything through until there was nothing left to say. But it’d be about two and a half hours before anything like that could happen, so she took her seat.

Nealy tapped on the glass from the other side of the players’ bench, and Lori jumped. The coach mouthed, “Thank you.”

For what? Coming to the game wasn’t a favor to the team, and it was kind of uncomfortable knowing Nealy thought she held that much influence over Dylan. Some kind of response was necessary, so she nodded, and Nealy went back to doing what Coach did best: scaring the living shit out of her players.

Lori sat back in the folding chair and tried to slow her heartbeat, but the thing wanted to slam out of her chest despite her wishes. She couldn’t take her eyes off Dylan, not even when a decked-out Elvis lowered from the rafters on a wire to sing the national anthem. Dylan stood on the blue line, mouth guard dangling from his lips, shifting skate to skate like he always did, but he kept glancing her way, which did nothing for her speedy pulse.