Chapter 68
JORDAN
“Where’s your jersey?” Bea asks through a mouthful of nachos at the game two weeks later.
The first period just ended with the Storm up by two points, the band is playing in the arena, and the Zamboni does laps around the ice. We’re playing Los Angeles. Keir Fraser, the player who didn’t want to be traded, glowers from their bench.
She’s wearing a kid’s-size Storm jersey in the black and white colors from the last era, with WARD stitched across the back. Adorable.
“I don’t have one.”
She looks on either side of us at Pippa, Hazel, Darcy, and Georgia. “They all have one.”
“They’re all married or engaged to players.” Hazel’s jersey stretches across her expanding baby bump.
She frowns, unsatisfied with this pathetic answer. Fair. Compared to them, I stick out like a sore thumb. One of these things is not like the other. The sore spot aches like an annoying bruise before I shove the thoughts away. Who cares? They’re just jerseys.
“Maybe you should marry my dad and then you could wear his jersey.”
I choke on my pop. “What?” I croak, coughing. On either side of us, Georgia and Darcy turn with slow, devious grins.
“You and my dad could get married,” Bea says. Is she messing with me? It’s so hard to tell with her. She’s too smart. “You already live together.”
“We don’t live together.” My eyes are the size of dinner plates. “I live in the guesthouse.”
“Bea, I like where you’re going with this,” Georgia says, and I give her the shut up eyes.
Darcy puts on a thoughtful expression. “Is there a specific reason you think they should get married, Bea?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m going to break your calculator, nerd.”
“You already threatened to do that,” she says primly with a smile. “You’re all bark and no bite.”
“My dad laughs a lot around her,” Bea adds.
Darcy’s eyes light up. “Really.”
“Uh-huh. And he smiles more.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat.
“And,” she continues, “Jordan brings him pizza because he likes it, and she remembers his favorite flavor.”
“That,” Georgia leans in with a bold smile, “is a very thoughtful gesture.”
“And no one takes care of him but Jordan does.”
My pathetic little heart aches and I avoid everyone’s gaze. Thank god Hazel and Pippa are deep in conversation about something else.
“And he makes me be very careful with her records and record player because it’s important to her, he said.”
“Wow.” Georgia’s smile turns curious and soft.
“Anyone would do that.” I keep my eyes forward.
I don’t let any of Bea’s words mean anything. Thankfully, Hazel stands to get another pretzel and Bea begs to go with her.
“So,” Georgia says the second they’re out of earshot.
“When’s the wedding?” Darcy teases.
“You used to be so quiet,” I tell her with mock disappointment. “What happened?”
“You found me an awesome co-op student and I learned that you’re secretly nice,” she says.
My heart does a warm, happy hop.
“Have you and Tate slept together yet?” Georgia prompts, right to the point.
“No,” I rush out. “I mean, not really.”
They raise their eyebrows.
“We haven’t.”
Pippa leans in. “Are you talking about—”
“Jordan banging Daddy Ward,” Georgia fills in.
A strangled noise slips out of me. My face is probably beet red. “Keep your voice down.” I glance at the guys behind us, who aren’t listening. “No one is banging. Or getting banged.”
I wish.
“It’s nothing serious,” I tell them.
Georgia gives me a patient look. “Would something serious be the worst thing in the world?”
No. It wouldn’t. It would actually be incredible, if I let myself picture it.
Sleeping in his bed every night. Laughing as he pretends not to be afraid during scary movies.
More of those quiet conversations where we talk about the real stuff, the stuff we don’t tell anyone else, like at the Italian restaurant.
Him smiling at me like he believes in me and loves being right.
Waking up tucked against him like the other morning.
“We’re just . . .” I force the words out even though they don’t sound quite right. “Having fun. Keeping it casual.” I hesitate. “Please don’t say anything to Bea. We don’t want her to be disappointed.”
When it’s all over, I don’t say.
For the millionth time, I replay what Tate asked me a month ago. Do you want kids?
No. I don’t. Right? I always said I didn’t. I don’t want to be pregnant. I don’t want to have a baby.
A kid, though. That’s different. Bea’s a full person, with thoughts and opinions and jokes and dreams.
What would that be like, to be part of her life as she grows up? Watching her become a teenager, and then an adult. Seeing the incredible person she’s bound to become.
A powerful sense of longing expands through my chest, moving up my throat.
That would be just about the best thing I could imagine, being part of Tate and Bea’s life forever. One word appears, the word that washes away all the loneliness I’ve been experiencing since my mom passed.
Family.
If it doesn’t work out, though, it’ll hurt so much more, knowing I disappointed Bea, too. Knowing what I had and lost.
Hazel and Bea return, the second period starts, and we turn our attention to the game.
Halfway through the period, Keir Fraser hits the ice, and I glance to Tate at the bench. He’ll be watching to see if Fraser fits in better with the new team. Something to give him peace of mind.
The Storm win a face-off and my attention snags on Fraser. He’s playing differently tonight. With more aggression. More force.
He’s angry. I can see it in the sloppy, furious way he skates and passes the puck, checks guys and defends his net. He wears a bitter sneer as he plays, and my stomach tightens.
Since Alexei left the team, we no longer have an enforcer to deal with situations like this. Someone to lay down the law and protect the guys.
It’s one of the gaps in the team that we weren’t able to fill before the trade deadline.
The puck comes to Rory and Keir checks him from behind.
Rory’s knee slips out from under him at an unnatural angle. The energy in the arena changes as the fans leap to their feet, everyone watching or yelling for a penalty. Me included.
“Shit,” Georgia whispers as the whistle blows and Hayden, Luca, and Carey skate over to Rory to check on him, still down on the ice, wincing in pain.
“What the hell was that?” I mouth through the glass as Keir skates by, protective fury beating through my veins.
Rory tries to stand on the injured knee and collapses back to the ice. A murmur of desperate concern ripples around the stadium.
Hazel’s hands are on her mouth and tears fill her eyes as Hayden and Luca help Rory off the ice. The energy in the arena is thick like a fog, tense and terrified.
He’s our captain. He’s our star player. He’s the heart of the Vancouver Storm.
“Bea, can you stay with Darcy and Pippa?” I ask. “I’ll come get you before the end of the game, okay?”
Her eyes are wide. “Promise?”
“Promise.” I gesture to Hazel and Georgia. “Let’s go.”