CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN LUCY
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LUCY
I’m halfway down the tunnel when I hear commotion coming from the ice. The crowd’s going wild and as I get closer to the bench, my stomach sinks when I see who’s against the boards, tangled up with another player. I push past Gage, stepping beside the bench as I lift my hand to my mouth.
A defenseman from the other team has Theo by the front of his jersey, both of their helmets are on the ice, sticks and gloves scattered and they’re delivering blows back and forth.
This entire game has been chippy and physical and it’s only gotten worse into the third period. Multiple fights have already broken out, which is expected when playing our rival team. However, Theo isn’t normally a fighter.
I don’t know what the hell happened. I ran to the bathroom quickly and came back to see that all hell had broken loose.
There’s literally nothing I can do from here and judging by the way the refs aren’t too involved yet, they’re letting them hash it out. The crowd in the arena grows louder with bloodlust and my stomach is on the fucking floor.
I hate this part of the sport. Not only does it make me nervous with them skating around on sharp blades of steel and if someone gets hit the wrong way, it could be deadly, but the fights are equally just as terrifying.
And I know I’m powerless. I’m utterly helpless as I watch the two men fall into the ice. Theo’s on top of him, driving his fist into the side of his face. The defensemen gets him in the jaw and I swear I see blood fly from his mouth.
The refs finally break it up, pulling them away from one another. One drags Theo onto his skates, pushing him back as he shouts at the other player. They’re exchanging words I can’t make out, both with wild eyes, looking like they haven’t finished whatever the hell that was.
I glance up at the time on the scoreboard. There’s less than five minutes left. Theo’s undoubtedly done for the night now.
His hair is disheveled and damp with sweat as he skates over toward the bench.
His gloves are tucked under his arm, helmet hanging from one hand and his stick in the other.
Blood trickles down the side of his face from a cut over his eyebrow and as he gets off the ice, I see the blood spilling from his busted lip.
He lets out a ragged sigh, his breathing shallow as he rushes past the bench. He barrels past everyone else, his eyes flicking to mine before he continues down the tunnel to the locker room. I glance at Tucker, whose lips are pursed, shaking his head.
“Can you take care of him?” he asks, his voice low as he walks over to me.
“I’m not supposed to,” I remind him, arching a brow.
Tucker glances at the bench and back at me. “It’s alright. I’ll deal with anyone if they have an issue with it.”
I give him a curt nod, my hand cradling my stomach instinctively, spinning on my heel.
I stop by the trainer’s room and grab our go-basket of supplies.
Theo’s already half-undressed in the locker room and his back’s turned toward me as he hangs up his skates, putting everything where it’s supposed to go.
I step into the room, the silence wrapping around us. Theo inhales deeply, letting out a heavy sigh as he plants his hands on either side of his stall, hanging his head. My eyes are on his back, trailing over his taut muscles as I walk over to him, carefully sitting on the bench next to him.
He turns his head to the side, his head hanging between his toned biceps. His face is flushed, his damp hair hanging in his face. “Hey,” he breathes, his bloodshot eyes probing mine.
“Hey,” I murmur, reaching for the top of his pants. “Come sit. Let me look at your face.”
He drops his hand to cup the side of my face. A shiver trails down my spine as he brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. “Only because you asked so nicely.”
His other hand releases the side of the stall and he turns around, wincing as he takes a seat.
He turns to look at me, his hands sliding onto the tops of my thighs, and I get a good look at the damage.
I purse my lips, shaking my head as I grab some gauze pads, pouring antiseptic wash onto them, cleaning the cut on his forehead.
He inhales sharply, his fingertips digging into my flesh, but he doesn’t stop me.
I get it cleaned up and secure two Steri-Strips over the cut, holding it together before moving to his lip. The bleeding has stopped already. “What happened out there?” I ask as I clean his face.
Theo swallows. “Nothing… Some players just know how to get under your skin with the shit they talk.” His nostrils flare, his pupils dilating. “He started it and knew how to get me engaged.”
“What did he say?”
The muscle in his jaw tightens and he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t want to repeat it.” His eyes flash open and he gives me a pained look. “Please, just… I’d rather not think about it.”
“That’s okay,” I say softly, cupping the sides of his face. “They were just words. It doesn’t matter what he said.”
His fingers tighten in my skin as the horn sounds through the building as the game comes to an end. His eyes linger on mine, and I know I have to be the one to move. We’re not in a compromising position, however, if anyone finds us like this, it won’t be good.
I force myself away, standing up from the bench. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
His eyes are still on mine, and he gives me a curt nod, his expression unreadable. I don’t know what was said on the ice, but whatever it was is still sitting with him—and I don’t like it one bit.
Theo’s hand is wrapped around mine, battered and bruised and covered with tape I wrapped around his knuckles. The silence stretches between us and I hate it. He hasn’t said much more to me after I saw him in the locker room. The tension in the air is borderline suffocating.
“You scared me tonight,” I admit.
The muscle in his jaw tightens. “Sorry,” he murmurs, turning into the development. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” I say softly, rubbing the side of his hand with my thumb. “I just—” I pause. I don’t want to press the issue. He made it clear he didn’t want to talk about what was said on the ice and I shouldn’t push him. “Let’s try not to do that again?”
He glances at me from the corner of his eye as he stops short in the driveway, waiting for the garage door to open. “I can’t make any promises, Luce,” he whispers, shaking his head, a pained look in his eyes as he stares at me for a moment. “Not when someone says the shit he was.”
My stomach sinks as he pulls the car into the garage, puts it in park and kills the engine.
He’s quiet as he gets out, yet still comes to my side and helps me out.
The silence stretches once more as we head into the house.
He tosses his keys onto the counter, huffing out a breath as he plants his hands against the marble surface.
Even looking like hell, he still looks good.
“Do you want some ice?” I ask softly, rubbing his back gently as I stop beside him. “For your hand?”
He swallows hard, giving a swift shake of his head. “No.”
“Maybe some water?”
He huffs. “I’m not thirsty.”
My hand falls away from his back. “Look, I don’t know what happened on the ice, but I didn’t start the fight with you. You can stop growling at me.”
He pushes off the counter, his head snapping toward me with regret flashing in his expression. “Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t pry but just talk to me.” I stare up at him, my eyes searching his. “Please.”
He drags his hand down his face. “If I say it out loud, I’m going to lose my shit again.”
My stomach knots together. “Did he say something about the baby?”
His nostrils flare and his body goes still.
My eyes widen, my heart hammering in my chest. “What did he say?”
“Not about the baby.” He shakes his head, eyes closed and pinches the bridge of his nose. “He was talking shit about how I knocked up the new trainer.” He swallows hard, anger flashing in his irises as he looks at me. “He asked how many other players you worked through before me.”
Nausea rolls in the pit of my stomach and my mouth falls open. It’s not unusual for low blows on the ice, but this isn’t one I was prepared to hear.
His voice is rough, his eyes bloodshot, expression unreadable. “He asked who the real father is because there’s no way you would have fucked me.”
I stare at him, my heart hammering in my chest. He’s hurt by what that asshole said to him. We both know the baby isn’t his… But the last part is the farthest thing from the truth.
And he believed it.
“Hey.” I reach for him, stepping into his space. I lift my hands to cup the sides of his face as he ducks his head, trying to conceal his emotions. “Look at me.”
“Luce, stop.” His voice is strained. He shakes his head and I turn it to look at me. His eyes flick to mine, glassy and raw.
What the hell?
“You know that’s not true,” I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. I roll my lips between my teeth, slowly releasing them. “It’s the farthest thing from the truth.”
He stares back at me, his gaze unwavering. “Lucy…” His voice trails off, pained, and he shakes his head once.
“After the things we’ve done together, you really think I don’t want you like that?” I let out a soft laugh. “Theo, Theo, Theo.” I tilt my head. “You are a silly, stupid man.”
His eyebrows cinch together. “Excuse me?”
“We’ve both made each other come… multiple times.” I trail my fingers along the side of his face. “Do you know how much restraint it’s been taking to keep my hands to myself?” I brush my thumb over his bottom lip, careful to avoid the cut. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.”
His nostrils flare, the muscle in his jaw tightening as his pupils dilate. “I—” He pauses, his eyes searching mine with embers burning in his irises. “Fuck,” he mutters his voice strained as his hands wrap around my waist. “I’ve never done this before.”
My breath catches and I blink. He’s never done what before? “What do you mean?”