CHAPTER ONE
WARD
“Keep it moving. Don’t stop,” I yelled at a quarter past five, the Monday morning after the Chimeras’ most recent loss for the season.
Their third overall, and it shit me.
Shannon Incarsen skated past, his glove raised. “I couldn’t hear you, Coach. Think you can yell a little louder?” he stage whispered behind a hand.
I glared at him. This isn’t a fucking kindergarten. Not that anyone would know from the team’s behaviour. “You want line drills after practice, player? Because I’ve got time.”
Shannon skated away, rolling his shoulders, staring straight ahead. That’s what I thought.
“They played hard. Killington were good.” Huxley Radfield, the Chimeras’ captain, sprayed ice in Incarsen’s wake as he stopped beside me.
“They weren't that good.” My teeth ground. “Neither were we. That’s why it’s called extra practice, captain.” I fixed the dark haired player with a hard stare. “Shouldn’t you be making an example of yourself out there?”
He held my glare, unflinching. “I am.”
“By doing nothing? There’s a dozen laps with your name on them.”
Hux watched me a moment longer. A muscle worked in his jaw, then he left for his laps. One of the team’s forwards, Knox, muttered in his ear. I missed that comment, but Hux’s reply bounced across the ice at me plain as day.
“He’s in a mood. Always happens this time of year.”
I clenched my teeth hard enough to grind my molars together. Fuck. This was why I didn’t have a personal life. Except for one fucking day, and I still couldn’t hold my shit together. Maybe I could kick the habit but I just…
“Heads up,” I shouted as a puck skipped off the top of a mis-swung stick.
Valentine lunged forward, grabbed for the puck with his goalie’s gloves, and missed. I streaked forward, plucking the puck out of the air a moment before it would have slammed into Incarsen’s head as he pivoted on end of the blue line.
“It might be practice, but it would be nice if everyone was available for the playoffs.”
If we fucking well made it to round two of the playoffs. Every player on the ice focused on me.
Finally.
“I’m glad I have your attention. If it hasn’t escaped you, we have a crucial game this week that defines the future of this season.
It might be more than that.” I held out the puck.
“Think of your own future. How you’ve played this year.
I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t make all the decisions.
But I can promise you that if you put in the hours and if you make it hurt in all the right places every damn day, then we push at that last game, you’ve got the heart of every Chimera behind you. ”
The tightness that had reflected in every eye a moment before eased now.
Even Hux offered me a short nod. Incarsen stood with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at some point beyond my head.
His embarrassment at missing the puck that flew at his head like it was intent on ending his life was his problem right now, though his ego could deal with it later.
I surveyed the team again. “Good. That’s enough soppy shit. I’m not a kind man. I promised someone line drills. You got it, then hit the showers. Go see Hallie afterward. She’s got your new training schedule for the week.”
The team grumbled, loud and long. I didn't care, so long as each man bitched about me and not my assistant who helped out and knew more Chimera stats than anyone I’d ever seen.
I swore Hallie ate our numbers for breakfast along with a steady supply of avocados that the team’s previous defender, Solace, made sure she was kept in plentiful supply.
“Our next game is Friday night. It’s a late time slot and there’ll be a decent media presence, or so I’m told.”
Valentine inclined his head. His partner, Cora, took on the team’s PR mission with the sort of passion that matched every part of the Chimeras’ outlook. If she said Friday night was a shitfight in the making, I had no reason to expect she’d be wrong.
Let’s double it down on the damage.
I also had somewhere else to be that night, but my personal preferences would have to wait.
I glanced at Hux, silently asking if he had any input. He stared back at me, his mouth a hard line. Alright, if that was how he wanted to play, we’d have a productive week. Painful, which was my favorite sort.
“Alright. You know what you’re doing for the morning.
Get cleaned up.” I dismissed the team, and waited for Hux.
Usually we got on well. He was always the first man on the ice, always the last off at the end of the day.
He played the game the same way as me. Today was the exception.
“What’s your strategy for Friday night?”
Hux’s mouth twitched. “Do you want my input or are you going rogue, like last year?”
I exhaled slowly, willing my control to eke out in minute lots. “Keeping a calendar are we, captain?” My low voice was the only warning I’d give him to stay out of my shit.
“It’s the most important night of the year, right?” He shrugged, keeping the movement smooth and easy, though I read the attention in his usually graceful stance. It was my damn job to know each player intimately after all. “You want my advice?”
My field of vision narrowed. “Keep it about the game, Radfield.”
He nodded and glanced to one side. We stood alone on the ice. “Get her flowers. Something you know she likes for once.”
Don’t punch your fucking captain out. It’s a bad look, and a shitton of paperwork.
“Flowers,” I said flatly. “Funny, I never thought of that in twelve years of marriage. Thanks, Hux. Make it two dozen laps.” I made sure the little door to the ice took my anger as I moved off the ice, my back rigid, heart pounding in my too-tight chest.
I can do fucking flowers.
The hiss of Hux’s skates was the only sound as I left him alone on the ice circling in punishment laps meant for someone else.
****
“Media is set up for Friday night. I’ve pulled as many tame journos as I can, but no promises. And the toy toss.” Cora wrinkled her nose. “God, I hate those, even though everyone in the crowd loves them. The clean up is terrible. All those damp toys and I can’t let any of them go to charity.”
“The idea is for charity,” I pointed out irritably. “That’s why we do it.”
“I know, but still. It’s wasteful.” She perched her butt on the corner of my desk and tapped long nails on my worn leather diary. “What about if the team did a fun run next year instead? Get outside the boy aquarium, maybe?” She squinted at me hopefully.
I pushed a fresh coffee from her favorite cafe across the desk toward where she sat on the edge.
No one else had the balls, but she broke plenty of rules.
Valentine would have something to say about that later, I suspected, but that was between them.
I never came between a player and his girl, not unless I thought she was in trouble. My boys had behaved this year, so far.
“Don’t even try to bribe me,” she grumbled, collecting the coffee. She pulled the mug out of my reach as though I might snatch the prize away from her at a moment’s notice.
"Wouldn't think of it,” I murmured. “It sounds good, but maybe next season,” I promised her. “You can explain why their favorite fan activity has been swapped out for sweat and no skates.”
Cora’s nose twitched. “I’ll get them onside.” She slid off my desk and headed for the door.
A heavy shadow underneath suggested Valentine stood on the other side. He had his own tasks to complete, but I understood his need to ensure she was looked after.
“I don’t doubt that.” I spoke to her back.
Footsteps announced my office was my own again. I waited for the door to close, my head already down, working through the next video review session for the upcoming game. I hated that we’d lost two games in a row, and refused to add another to our tally.
“Ward.” Cora’s use of my first name drew me back to the present.
My concentration slipped. Damnit, there was only one other woman who used my first name like that. Everyone else in the building either had more respect or less guts.
“Yes?” I bit off the end of the word and tried to soften my brittle approach with a smile. From her raised eyebrows, that didn’t do much either.
“Why are there flowers on my list?”
I closed my eyes. “Ignore that. I’ll sort it out.”
I sensed Cora’s frown rather than saw it as she moved back into the room, her footfalls soft on the threadbare carpet.
My office was due for an upgrade, but I’d never cared how worn my floor coverings looked or how bare my office seemed.
Neither of those things defined a decent coaching session with any of the players under my responsibility.
“Ward. What’s going on? You’ve been unfocused for the last week.” The warmth of another body near me set me on edge. It wasn’t the one I wanted. The only one I wanted.
“I’m fine, Cora. Valentine’s waiting.” Christ, if she didn’t leave now, I’d end up yelling at her, but both she and Hux were right. This year was worse than ever.
It has to stop.
I’m out of control.
But I couldn’t stop. Not until I heard the words from her lips. Words I knew she’d never say because my wife was stubborn like that.
A vision from last year, of blonde hair mussed and knotted behind my gloved fingers. I couldn’t erase the image of her pretty, tear streaked face, her back arched before me as I railed into soft curves I knew as intimately as I understood my own body slammed into me.
I pushed my chair back from my desk, swearing. My knuckles drilled into the hard surface. Pain was an equaliser, bringing me back from the nightmare I lived over and over again. Pure pleasure and utter temptation. Because that was our deal. I could have her—my wife—for a single night, once a year.
Other than that I didn’t touch her. I didn’t see her. Didn’t contact her.
Not until our next anniversary.
Friday.
Four days from today.
“Ward?” Cora’s hand on my arm jerked me out of my reverie.
“Forget the flowers," I repeated harshly. She’d hate them, anyway. “Forget everything, Cora. Spend time with Valentine. You never know how short it is.”
I swallowed hard when Cora didn’t move away or drop her hand. Anyone else would have been scared shitless if I snapped at them. Even the men I trained on the ice, relentless in my personal brand of asshole.
“Tell me how to help,” Cora whispered. “I’ll do anything.”
A snarl built behind my lips that I camped shut. The worst part was that I knew she meant it. I’d seen Cora in action, sacrificing everything, even her own safety, to ensure the team’s survival. It was one of the reasons she and Valentine were suited so well.
“You can’t help. You’re not her.” I reversed her grip on my arm so I held her elbow firmly, and walked her to the door, pushing her into the corridor where Valentine waited, leaning against the opposite wall. “Look after her.” I shut the door in their surprised faces and locked it from the inside.
My next training session wasn't for a few hours, and I had phone calls to make. No, fresh flowers had always been a shitty idea. She’d bin those as soon as they arrived. There were better ways to torment the woman I’d loved since the day I laid eyes on her nearly twelve years ago.
I knew exactly where to start.