Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Viktor
We win game two, and I’m gratified because by putting Holly completely out of my mind, I’m able to give my all in the game. And it made a difference.
I allow myself an hour to wallow in self-pity, and then I bury all the emotions as deep as I can and focus on hockey.
These next three games in Anchorage are going to be brutal.
We’re already dealing with a handful of minor injuries but it doesn’t take much to mess up the vibe or make the guys more vulnerable.
I’ve barely seen Holly since our conversation.
She still sleeps at my side but has made herself invisible the rest of the day.
I’m not sure how she’s spending her time and I don’t ask.
The growing distance between us feels wrong but there’s nothing I can do about it.
She made her choice and I have to live with it.
She’s right that it’ll make the divorce that much easier.
What she didn’t take into consideration is the fact that I don’t want to divorce.
Of course, I never told her that, but I thought I was showing her.
Maybe gifts aren’t the way to tell a woman you love her.
I thought the whole bear thing, with the note about my heart, would tell her how I’m feeling.
Once again, I totally misjudged the situation.
And now she’s moving to New York.
There’s no doubt in my mind she’ll get the job.
She’s smart, brilliant, and beautiful. Not to mention connected to a politician. They’re going to make her an offer and then she’s moving to New York City. A thousand miles away from me and the life we’ve started to build in Atlanta.
I thought maybe she felt the same way I do, but then why would she even consider taking the job? It’s complicated, I know that, and we’ve been together five weeks. That’s not enough time for…anything. Is it?
No.
And it’s not fair for me to tell her how I feel when everything around us is so uncertain.
Especially once she asked me about going back to Russia.
I don’t have any idea what I’m going to do when I retire.
Am I going back to Russia?
I only said what I said to protect myself. Which was stupid, but in the moment, she hurt me. I’ve tried so hard to show her how I feel and she just blindsided me with the New York thing.
How the hell is she going to fall in love with me if we’re living a thousand miles apart? It makes no sense. I thought there were feelings. I felt the damn feelings.
So, how the fuck did we get to where we are?
There’s nothing I can do about it, so that’s why I put it mostly out of my mind and am putting all my energy into hockey.
One win in the books, three more to take home the championship.
Coach Teller has been incredibly supportive since the loss in game one, reminding us statistics are just numbers—we control the future. Some of it is motivational bullshit but we’re a tight, solid group. We can make this happen. And we will if I have anything to say about it.
Alaska is cool despite the fact that it’s June and I take a moment to stare up at the clear blue sky.
It’s beautiful.
I enjoyed living here. The only thing I didn’t like was playing in Aaron’s shadow.
As he got older, he had increasingly more serious injuries, so I got to play a lot.
That’s why the Thunder took me in the expansion draft.
And that’s also why the owner of the Blizzard, Gage Caldwell, let me go.
I was supposed to be the future of this team but he knew I’d been waiting a long time.
I’m grateful he gave me this opportunity to shine in Atlanta.
But after everything that’s happened, I almost wish he hadn’t.
I’d still be here, playing in the championship.
Except I wouldn’t be the starting goalie.
We won the whole thing several years ago, and I mostly rode the bench. So, I have my name on the damn trophy, but I didn’t actually earn it.
This time, if we win, it will feel different.
Since my parents have been to Alaska several times, visiting me when I lived here, I don’t feel the need to play tour guide or spend time with them. I already warned them that I would be busy with the team.
It’s harder to explain Holly’s absence, and I only told them that she had a job opportunity but would join us on Wednesday. I don’t even know if that’s true but it’s keeping them off my back for a little while.
“You okay?” West and I ride up in the elevator at the hotel together.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Why?” I snap, more irritated than I should be.
“Because Serena got up to get some water last night and found Holly in the kitchen crying.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
This isn’t the time for this conversation.
I’m doing my best to put her out of my mind.
So, I shrug. “We had argument. That’s all.”
He frowns. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, if you say you had an argument, I believe you, but I don’t think that’s why she was crying. It was something to do with her father.”
I frown, now paying more attention. “Did she say what?”
“No. She kind of made excuses and then went to bed.”
“She didn’t say anything to me.”
“What did you argue about?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You do something stupid again?”
“Not me,” I mutter.
His eyes widen. “What happened? You can talk to me, Vik. That’s what friends are for.”
That’s another weird thing.
I’ve never really had friends.
Yes, I’m friendly with my teammates. I’ve had roommates and guys I could go drinking with, but making friends has been hard because of the language barrier.
It got easier in Atlanta because of Kelly, and now I speak much better, but I’m still not used to the idea of friends.
Like West and Bodi and Simon and Felix. We’ve had a lot of fun together, and it really didn’t end just because West and Bodi got into serious relationships.
We still spend time together. Laugh a lot. Share things.
And he deserves to know what’s going on because he’s been here, supporting me, for all of it. Not to mention Serena and Holly are extremely close, so he’s going to find out anyway.
“She has job interview in New York City. A firm on Wall Street.”
He knits his brows together. “I don’t understand. Why would she do that?”
I throw up my hands. “This is my question! Why? I do not understand and I’m…pissed.” There. I said it.
“Understandable.” He hesitates. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, and I’m only playing devil’s advocate because it might bring you some clarity. Is there anything you said or did that could have made her think you weren’t serious about giving the marriage a try?”
That’s been on my mind too.
I know one part of it and that’s the thing I’m struggling with.
In the moment, I lashed out because I was hurt.
In retrospect, I may have been unconsciously pushing her away because we’ve danced around the one major issue between us: whether or not I would expect her to move to Russia after I retire.
Would our conversation have gone a different way if I’d answered differently? And by the same token, does she not love me enough to go with me? To at least visit and see if she might be happy there?
I didn’t offer up the possibility of staying here, though, either.
So, we’re both bad about communicating our needs and wants.
The thing is, I don’t know if she loves me. Without that, it’s impossible to make important decisions.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit finally. “My feelings are a jumble. My head, my heart, my stomach—everything feels sick and weird. This is why I am only thinking about hockey. I cannot think about her right now or…”
He nods sympathetically. “I understand, buddy. Really. But it’s impacting you whether you think about her or not.
And I think you owe it to her, and to yourself, to have one completely honest conversation.
Otherwise, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering.
What if. What might have happened if I’d just been honest… you know?”
I nod. “I cannot do it now.”
“No. But if she comes on Wednesday, you have to.”
“How do you know you’re in love?” I demand as we step out of the elevator.
“You know that sick feeling you just described? That’s your answer. If you didn’t love her, you’d be pissed or frustrated or whatever. But not sick. You’d just want this to be over with. The fact that you still want her, still want to talk to her, maybe work things out—that’s your answer.”
“This is bullshit,” I mutter. “Love is supposed to make you sick?”
“Sometimes. Especially when you’re fucking it up.”
“Well, that is fucking bullshit,” I repeat in annoyance.
And the bastard just laughs.