Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
B ailey felt shaky. It didn’t matter how many times Poppy or Molly tried to tell her it was normal, that standing up for himself and his teammates was something Luc was respected for, seeing Luc lose his cool was shocking. She watched the rest of the game on tenterhooks, super tempted to gnaw her nails, despite the recent mani-pedi with Poppy when they’d celebrated the first check from her YouTube channel earnings. Luc had also scored an assist, which apparently meant he earned something called a Gordie Howe hat trick, when a player scored a goal, an assist, and had a fight. The first two were okay, but she wished he hadn’t had the last. For his sake, because she dreaded what had been said to make him snarl like that, as much as for what it would mean about her father.
She exhaled slowly. Dad would freak out. And it wouldn’t matter what she said, he’d likely tell her to avoid Luc, like he’d been hinting for weeks now. Luc was too big, too ruthless, too tattooed, too fierce, too different. But still a stubborn thought refused to bend. The same stubborn thought that had refused to listen when her father had suggested she put her grandmother’s will money into a trust he’d set up.
“Come on. Let’s go find him.”
She followed Molly and Poppy to the room where the family members waited until the players were released. This felt awkward, like there were so many eyes on her, and nerves gnawed as she wondered what she’d say.
Perky Bailey she could not be. Not yet. She didn’t know how to reconcile this side of him, of this sport he loved passionately, with the man she thought she knew. The one who called himself a Christian, who had prayed with her, who had tenderly cared for her when she’d wept. Maybe she didn’t know this man as well as she thought she did.
The door opened, and a few players trickled in. Some she recognized, like Nate Campbell, the goalie. Most she didn’t, although she might’ve met them before. Then Molly’s partner arrived and kissed her, and he nodded to Bailey. “He’ll be out soon.”
She nodded, her mouth too dry to speak.
“Want me to stay?” Poppy asked.
Bailey nodded again.
“Hey, you don’t need to look so worried. He’s tough, and to be honest, he probably needed to do that to set the boundaries so people won’t call him soft.”
Soft. Like those drunk men had done. She exhaled. “I wish people knew how unsoft dance is.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever be able to change some people’s minds.” Poppy shrugged.
Probably not.
The door opened, and at the sight of Luc, she squeezed Poppy’s hand, then released it, moving tentatively to him.
The hard slant to his face softened, as he smiled. “Hey you.”
“Congratulations on your win.”
“Thanks.” His lips pulled to one side. “It was pretty scrappy.”
“Speaking of scrappy.” She touched the cut on his cheek and he winced. “Are you okay?”
“Totally okay. Seeing you is the icing on my day.”
“Isn’t icing something that happens in the game?”
“Look who’s been paying attention.”
“I tried.”
He smiled, more fully now, then drew her near, bending his face as if to kiss her, when he noticed Poppy. “Hey Poppy.”
“Good game. Good fight. You looked like you won. The game and the fight.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t the plan, but these things happen.” He turned to Bailey. “I’m sorry that happened on your first game.”
“It’s okay,” she murmured.
“Is it?”
She nodded. It would be. It would have to be, if they were going to stick together.
If? That it was even a question shocked her, and she hugged him. He pressed a kiss to her hair, then nodded. “So, we’re all going back to yours?”
She nodded. It was what they’d agreed on. She and Poppy would Uber to the arena, and he’d drive them home.
“Actually, if it’s all the same with you, I might Uber back,” Poppy said.
He shook his head. “It’ll take forever on game night. I’ll drive you.”
“Yeah, but I think you and Bails need some time alone.”
He nodded, but said, “I’ll drive you both home then we can talk there or somewhere else.”
Five minutes later she and Poppy were sitting in his vehicle as he finished talking to a member of staff. “Bails, you need to not make a mountain out of this,” Poppy warned.
“Has Franklin been in a fight?”
“A few. Not as many as Luc, I imagine, but then part of Luc’s role has always been to stand up for his teammates. It’s why the team like him, and probably why the staff made him captain. They know he’s passionate about the game and his team.”
“Won’t they be upset that the new captain was fighting in his first game?”
“It probably wasn’t ideal, but we don’t know what was said. And from what Franklin has said in the past, it’s probably not something you want to know.”
Bailey swallowed. That sounded like Poppy thought it had been over something to do with Bailey.
“Just remember that fighting is pretty close to inevitable for anyone who has been playing a few years.”
“But he’s a Christian.”
“And he still is. Salvation isn’t dependent on whether a man punches or not.”
True. She sucked in a breath. “I still can’t—”
“I know. And you need to let it go. If he wants to explain himself, then okay. But he might not. I know Franklin has always felt a little embarrassed that he got goaded into something.”
She sighed. There was so much about this sport she’d never thought to know.
Luc appeared, and Poppy gave the conversational zest needed, while Bailey did her best to appear okay. But when Poppy exited, and Luc shifted to study her, she knew he’d noticed her less-than-peppy attitude.
“Bails.”
That tender note in his voice drew emotion, and she blinked hard to keep it away.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He grasped her hand.
“I’m sorry. I should be all cheerleader-like, right? But I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”
“I get it. It’s a lot.”
“Why did you do it?”
“The fight, you mean?” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have. It was dumb, especially when it’s basically an exhibition game which ultimately doesn’t mean a thing. But I felt like I needed to draw a line, especially as we play Vancouver a lot, and I wanted to let Johansen know I won’t stand for that. I wasn’t going to let anyone disrespect anyone I care about.”
“Did he say something mean about me?”
He winced. “I really didn’t mean to imply that.”
“So it’s true. Well, in that case…”
He glanced quickly at her.
“Good.”
“Good?”
Her chin lifted. “I appreciate you standing up for me.”
“Thank you for understanding.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “I’m sorry for worrying you. The team weren’t too happy, but I think they understand now.” He shot her a wry look. “I won’t be doing that anytime again soon.”
“I hope not. I want you in one piece. But hey, at least you won.”
He chuckled. “I love the fact you care about that.”
“It must be that competitive thing, right?”
“Right.”
He leaned closer and kissed her, and suddenly it didn’t matter about the fight, or her father, or anything else at all. All that mattered was this was a good man, who wanted to stand up for those he cared about.
“No. I don’t like it. I really think you need to keep away from him. He’s violent.”
Bailey studied her parents across the dining table as Sunday’s lunch grew cold. Luc was away this weekend, and she had attended her parents’ church this morning, then joined them for a meal as per usual. She pressed her lips together. She should’ve known this was an excuse for her father to dump on Luc. And there was never a better time than when the man wasn’t here to defend himself.
“I can’t give my blessing to a man who is prone to violence. I just won’t.”
“But that’s what Luc does, Dad. He protects people. He never lets me down. I can always count on him.”
“But he’s so different to you. He’s not your type.”
“Dad, no. Please stop.”
“But Bailey, we care about you.”
“And so does he!”
She peeked at her mom, but her mother’s head was bowed, as if she too had had this conversation with her father and knew the outcome. Some days when Dad got on his high horse about things there was no reasoning with him. She glanced around the room, the kitchen cabinets with their diamond glass showcasing Mom’s porcelain collection. Everything the same. Dad with his prejudice, Mom with her silence, the quiet enabler.
She dropped her head. Was it disrespectful to think of her parents in this way?
“We just want you to be safe,” her father said.
“I know you do,” she murmured.
Memories of Jed and Chrissy, of the bruises her sister had worn, flared into consciousness. She understood her father’s concerns, really she did, but, “Luc isn’t the same as Jed.”
“But his tattoos—”
“Dad, stop sounding so prejudiced. Do you seriously think tattoos mean he’s not a Christian?”
“Well, no.”
“But?” She pressed.
“But perhaps he’s not walking as close to God as I’d like to think my daughter would require in a man with whom she’s in a relationship,” he replied stiffly.
“How do you know how close Luc is to God? Have you ever asked him? Or just judged him from afar?”
“I don’t understand all this hostility, Bailey.”
“I’m not hostile, Dad. I’m simply trying to defend the man when he’s not here to defend himself.”
She paused, realizing again that attacking people when they weren’t there was what her father had often done. Her family was way too good at playing games and passive aggression, acting or speaking one way while meaning another. All her life she’d been taught to suppress negative feelings, instead of openly addressing them. Her family’s need to avoid conflict had reached gold medal levels in recent years, after Chrissy’s marriage breakdown had led Dad to try to maintain some semblance of control. And she and Rhett enabled him, as much as anything her mom had done.
She pushed back her chair. “I’m afraid I need to leave. I’ve got some paperwork to do.”
“On the Sabbath?”
She swallowed. Trying to explain that God’s grace extended to people who worked on Sundays was probably a step too far for her dad today. The concept that God might love tattooed people was probably enough for one day. “I’m sorry.” Was saying sorry when she wasn’t simply being polite or just a lie?
“But you haven’t had dessert,” her mother complained.
She swallowed. No, she hadn’t. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Not for this kind of dessert, anyway. She couldn’t wait for Luc to return.
* * *
The road trip to Saint Paul and Chicago proved a useful trip to school his emotions. Being away from Winnipeg—Bailey—helped him refocus on what he was meant to do. Play well, inspire his team, lead by example. He didn’t want anyone getting sloppy or undisciplined or letting teams goad them, like what had happened with Johansen in the Vancouver game last week. And though Minnesota’s Mitch Reilly liked to intimidate with his big presence, checking Luc into the boards, then muttering that Luc should’ve quickstepped faster, the words had ignited his sense of humor, and he’d decided to play along too. Which was why he used as many dance puns as he could in his press conference after.
“So, Luc, tell us what’s ignited this new passion on the ice. Has it got anything to do with a new passion off the ice?”
“I’m gonna guess from that comment you’re talking about the lift you’ve seen in my recent games. I guess it’s no secret that I’ve been in a spin these past few months, and I’m glad that my fancy footwork is paying off.”
That scored a few laughs, and he kept his own amusement locked behind flat lips, turning to the next reporter. Hannah Wade. Hannah James now, Franklin’s wife, and Poppy’s sister-in-law.
“Luc, I’d like to concentrate on the score-line tonight.”
“I appreciate that.”
Her lips quirked, like she was as tired as he was of some of these other reporters poking around his love life. “Three wins on the trot—”
“The foxtrot?”
“If you’re the fox.”
“Ba dum tish.”
She smiled. “Tell us how it feels to be the captain and what you’re doing to inspire your team to play hard each time.”
“I think everyone knows that I consider this a true honor. I’m working doubly hard to maintain focus and lead by example. I’m aiming to have the most shots on goal per game, if not the most goals, and I expect all the boys to want the same.”
“Except for Campbell,” she joked.
“Except for Soup”—the goalie—“that’s right.”
“And would you care to comment on that fight in that game against Vancouver?”
“Nope.” But knowing this would only lead to more speculation, he figured it was best to clear the air. “You know, it’s no secret that I’ve been someone who’s brought some grit and aggression in the past. But it’s also no secret that I’ve long been someone who stands up to injustice, and when smart-butts like Johansen want to have a go at me for doing something for charity, I really think it says something about the weakness of their character. And I can’t help but notice that Johansen wasn’t the dude asked to dance on national TV. I’m gonna guess he was just sore about not being asked. I guess we’ll know that for certain if he tries anything like that again.”
This earned a round of laughs, and a nod of appreciation from Hannah. Nothing like calling a man out in a way that would make him look cheap if he went after Luc again. And that might just serve as a warning to anyone else to not push him, otherwise he just might say something similar.
He clenched then relaxed his fingers. He couldn’t wait to return and see Bailey again.
“It’s so good to hold you.”
“It’s so good to be held by you.” His grip tightened, then she squeaked. “Although maybe not that tight.”
“Sorry, babe. I forgot.” He relaxed, but didn’t let go.
The lights of the Peg glimmered through the window, the sun setting as he drank her in, highlighting the warm bronze and red strands in her hair. He didn’t want to move from this position. Like, ever. She was the perfect height, the perfect shape, had the perfect scent, the right amount of curves and length. He loved everything about her. Everything.
He drew back. “You want dessert?” She tipped her lips up invitingly, so it was only polite to obey her request. But his kiss soon grew a little hungry, which made him draw reluctantly away.
“I think I want too much dessert.”
She laughed, and there it was, that easing in his soul again.
“Then you better sit down over there, and I sit down over here—”
“Or I could just sit next to you on the sofa and we could hold hands and watch the sun set.”
“You’ll behave yourself?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her smile revived memories of their dance rehearsals, and she seemed to think that too, as her amusement softened, and she traced his jaw with her hand. “I miss all those dance practices with you.”
“Maybe we should do some more sometime.” Or maybe he could find an excuse for a team function involving dance that he’d label an exercise in team building, team bonding, or whatever.
“When I watched the game with Molly she mentioned that she and Travis might be interested in dance lessons for their wedding.”
“He popped the question?”
“I don’t think so. But I get the feeling she hopes it’ll be soon.”
“Well, look who’s just dived into the deep end with the team’s girlfriends.”
“It was really good to sit with her and Poppy. They both explained the game pretty well.”
“So, do you think you might enjoy it one day?”
Her nose wrinkled, and his heart fell. “Maybe not as much as someone I know enjoys doing the tango.”
He chuckled. “I gotta admit, the tango is up there. At least if I get to do it with you.”
He drew her legs over his knees. “So, what else has been happening? I know it’s only been a few days, but I feel like it’s been so much longer. So tell me everything. How’s the business? How are your folks? What’s news?”
Her face blanked for a second, so he knew she had news. But the fact she didn’t light up and tell him suggested it wasn’t good. “Bails? What’s going on?”
She shook her head. Sighed.
“What is it?”
“I went to my folks after church on Sunday. Their church, not yours. I’d rather go to yours when you’re there.”
He nodded. He understood. It was big. “And?”
She sighed. “Dad warned me about you. Again.”
“Again?”
She stretched, then inched closer, tucking her head next to his. “I’m so sorry. He’s so judgmental, and still hasn’t got over that fight.”
He exhaled silently. He should’ve refrained, been the bigger man, even if what he’d done had stopped the aggression against his team. “I’m sorry.”
“And that’s the other thing. I realized last weekend how often I don’t actually say what I mean when I’m around them.”
He nodded, but couldn’t verbalize that. Not yet anyway. The door to her self-revelation had to crack a little wider before he threw any truth bombs in there. “You love your parents and don’t want to hurt them.”
“Exactly. And yet, sometimes I wonder if it’s not helping if I don’t say what I really mean. Although I did manage to tell Dad to stop.”
“Stop? You mean with the business?”
She blinked, her brow furrowing. “No, I mean about you.”
He kissed her brow, hoping she’d hurry past that slip of the tongue. “What did you tell him? That I kiss so divinely you want to kiss me all the days of your life?”
“Yeah, that.” She rolled her eyes, as a smile played around her lips. “I think my dad would explode if I said something like that.”
“Best to not tell him that then. Not yet, anyway,” he added, without thinking.
“Not yet?” She sat up, turning to face him in a lateral crunch his trainer would applaud.
“I mean, one day you’ll probably need to tell him how much you adore me, and that you want to spend forever with me.” Just like he did with her.
Her eyes were wide, and he realized how much of his own heart he’d just opened for her to see, so quickly added, “But that’s a one-day thing.”
“Definitely a one-day thing,” she agreed, settling beside him again. “I honestly think Dad would have a stroke if I was to say that. Not when he wanted me to end things with you.”
His heart sank. “Wow. I didn’t think he disliked me that much.”
“It’s not you. I think it’s more the thought of you. He doesn’t really know you yet.”
“Well, there’s a way to change that. Why not invite them here? We could have dinner together. You could even invite Rhett and that happy wife of his.”
“Cindy.”
“That’s the one.”
“Are you serious?”
He was serious about a future with her. Which meant getting to know the family of the woman he loved. “Maybe they could come watch a game.”
“Rhett would totally be okay with that.”
“Then let’s make it so.”