Chapter 37 #2
“Am I supposed to let you support me? Sit around the house all day, building 3-D puzzles, waiting for ‘my man’ to come home so my purpose is fulfilled by fawning over him like he’s the center of my universe?
” He took up the crossed-arms pose again, his dark eyebrows inching toward one another, deepening the vertical creases between them.
“Quinn, I need to prove to myself—and my family—that I can stand on my own two feet and that I’m capable of providing for myself. ” Her plea leaked out in her voice.
“But you already have! That’s exactly what you were doing long before Wolf derailed you.”
Stubborn man! “Why can’t we just move everything to the back burner for a bit and let it simmer while we figure us out?”
“You mean while you figure us out. I don’t need to figure out a damn thing, except whether this was just a fling for you all along.
‘Meh, a younger hockey player might be a fun way to pass the time.’” He paused a beat and gusted out a breath.
Her brain was firing like an ignited pack of firecrackers, and before she could process, he said, “All right. You want a break? You got it.”
With that, he pivoted and trod toward his room without a backward glance. Stunned, all she could do was watch him go.
Quinn went from drawer to drawer, an automaton yanking out clothes and stuffing them into a duffel.
“This is your own damn fault, you stupid fuck,” he muttered to himself.
“You’re the dumbass who told her to use you any way she wanted.
” But he’d never expected her to take him up on it.
No, cocksure as he’d been, he’d believed she was in as deep as he was.
His mother’s words slammed him relentlessly, like the Hulk beating Loki as though he were a dust-filled rug: She’ll give you a run for your money because she’ll be the only woman you can’t impress with just your smile.
Fuck me!
His duffel was overflowing—with what, he wasn’t sure—and he hadn’t touched his closet.
He needed at least one suit and some dress shirts and shoes, didn’t he?
But going in there, seeing himself reflected in the mirrors, without her …
Fuck it! She’d be gone next week, and he’d come back and get the rest. By then, maybe his wounds wouldn’t cut so deep and he could move around the space with a detachment that eluded him at the moment.
He snatched the beanbags from his nightstand—resisting the urge to stop and juggle—threw them in the duffel, and zipped it shut. Relief washed over him when she was nowhere in sight—he wasn’t sure if he’d rail at her like an ass or beg her to stay with him like a pathetic dweeb.
But Archer, the all-seeing, all-knowing wonder dog was there, and Quinn gave him an extra-long scratch.
With his duffel over his shoulder, he grabbed his stick and gear bag and hustled to his truck.
As he backed out of the driveway, he wondered what he’d left behind.
Besides Sarah. He’d sort it—all of it—at the condo, where he could think without smelling her perfume or seeing her diamond-bright, gold-starburst eyes he’d want to drown in.
An hour later, Quinn stood in his condo alone.
The tenants had been on a month-to-month and had moved out weeks before, but he hadn’t done a thing to get it back into the rental pool.
Fortuitous procrastination, as it turned out, since he was moving back in.
The concierge had met him to inspect the unit, and she’d departed with a breathy, “It’s good to have you back, Mr. Hadley.
You know where to find me if you need anything. ” Emphasis on “anything.”
Yeah, no thanks.
Now that she was gone, he ran his fingers over the polished, monolithic white island and let his eyes wander to the two-story wall of glass. He’d always loved that view, but now, as he took it in, it left him … cold.
He turned toward the hand-forged stainless-steel-and-glass stairway that led to a spectacular master suite.
The staircase had always awed him because it seemed to be suspended in air.
Suddenly, he saw it through a new lens. Sarah’s lens.
His focus sharpened on a series of cables and bolts he’d never noticed, and he gained an entirely new appreciation for the structure.
But like the wall of glass and the counter, it left him cold.
The big-ass house he’d never liked flashed in his mind’s eye, filling him with color and warmth.
Was it the house or the beings in it? His mother, Sarah, Archer.
A reminder from the concierge beeped on his phone.
Rooftop party in ten. Practice your social distancing.
A sign that more pandemic restrictions were being lifted, but he didn’t give a flying fuck.
He pictured pretty people clustered in small groups, engaged in a familiar mating dance he wanted no part of.
A pang dug into his chest. God, he already missed Sarah.
He couldn’t do this.
With a sigh, he eyed his phone and dialed Paige. She picked up on the first ring. “Security system running okay?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s great. I was just wondering about the lease. It was for six months?”
“Yep, so you’re up at the end of next month, but you have an option to extend for another six.”
“I’d like to exercise that option. Can you set that up? I was also wondering if you could come by the condo and have a look. I’m thinking of putting it on the market.”
“Yes to both questions. I’d be delighted. By the way, I just went over Sarah’s recommendations on my build-out. She says you helped her. I had no idea you were an engineer too.”
He couldn’t hide his surprise. “She said that?”
“Yep. She was very complimentary. So I guess when your hockey career’s up, I can call on you too?” She let out a lilting laugh.
“Nah. She was just being generous. Anything I contributed—and I say that laughingly—was blown out of the water by her expertise. You’ve got a good structural engineer on your team. She knows her stuff.”
“I wholeheartedly agree. So will she and your mom be staying too?”
“Not sure yet. Still working out those details.”
“Well, no matter. Yours is the only name on the lease, so I’ll get the extension ready for your signature.”
He thanked her and hung up. A text blinked, and his pulse bumped up.
Sarah: Archer and I are back at Gage’s permanently. Mansion’s all yours.
His thumping heart sank to his stomach.
Quinn: You didn’t have to leave.
Sarah: I know. Just thought it would be easier on everyone.
His mind reeled. All he could think to text was, Do you think it’s safe?
Sarah: Yep. We’re Wolf-proof.
Whatever the hell that meant. At least Gage was there to protect her, though from the most recent report Quinn had received, Wolf was too busy juggling new trouble in Seattle to come Sarah-hunting.
Accusations of fraud—brought by his wife, no less.
What goes around … Quinn couldn’t think of a more deserving candidate.
Quinn: So you’re back in the Pepto-Bismol room?
Sarah: Just for a few days until we move and I have the guesthouse to myself.
His fingers hesitated over the keyboard. What could he say? Killing me here. Come back. I love you. No. She didn’t want him. She’d walked out. Instead he typed, Hope the move goes well. Thanks for letting me know.
He got a thumbs-up emoji in response. That was it, then. His heart constricted, on the verge of imploding.
Needing a lifeline, he dialed a different number.
“Mom? You and Dad busy? Can I stop by and say hey?”
His anger and hurt retreated a fraction when she said, “Of course! We’d love to see you.”
Quinn patted his belly in the tidy eat-in kitchen at his dad’s place. “Dad, that was great! Didn’t know you could cook.”
“Neither did I,” his dad chuckled, “until I had to live on my own. Your mom did make the potatoes.” His dad threw his mom a smile, and she beamed.
Quinn was surprisingly gratified by his dad’s efforts to please his mom, treating her with the reverence she deserved. Not to mention he was highly amused observing his dad trotting out a domestic side Quinn had never seen before.
Father and son worked side by side cleaning the kitchen while his mom lounged on the couch out of earshot. They talked about Quinn’s return to play, then Quinn asked his dad about his plans.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“But you’ll still coach, right?”
His dad shook his head. “It’s probably time for a change.” Pausing what he was doing, his dad turned and looked him dead in the eye. “I’m no good at it.”
Astonished, Quinn frowned. “Since when?”
An extended, cheek-puffing sigh. “Never had a winning season in Poland.”
“Because you didn’t have the right talent.”
“No, it goes way back. Started with you and your brother. I … I’ve needed to say this for a long time, but it isn’t easy, so bear with me.
” His father’s voice shook, and Quinn could have sworn his eyes glazed.
He swallowed around a lump in his throat and stood still as his dad continued.
“I recognized you and your brother’s talent, so I pushed both of you.
Too much, too hard. I thought Ronan had the better chance at The Show, and …
In the end, Ronan didn’t make it, and that was my failure—on so many levels, especially with the accident.
In the meantime, you were on the rise, and you were doing it without my help.
Maybe that ate at me too. Bottom line, I messed up royally, and then I ran.
Ran to Poland to lick my wounds and forget, I guess.
“I’ve regretted it every single day. If I had it to do over again, I would’ve stayed and confronted my demons like a man.” He paused and swiped a thumb over his eye. “I screwed everything up with my sons and my wife. For that, I’m truly sorry,” he choked.
Tears welled, pricking Quinn’s eyes. Stunned speechless, all he could think to do was draw his dad in for a fierce hug, pounding him on the back. “It’s okay, Dad. It turned out the way it was supposed to.” His dad returned the embrace, nodding against Quinn’s shoulder.
After a few moments, it grew awkward, so they pulled apart. Tears streaming down his face, his dad squeezed Quinn’s nape. “In spite of your old man, you made it—all on your own. I’m so proud of you, son.”
The tears Quinn had been blinking back rimmed and spilled. “Not all on my own, Dad. You set the bar high, and that was the best thing you could’ve done for me. It gave me something to shoot for, something to prove.” He paused and smiled. “And maybe it’s better you didn’t butt in.”
His dad laughed, and the mood lightened, lifting an old, toothy wound out of the way. The air was clearer, sweeter, as father and son continued their chores, exchanging stories and bantering about this and that.
“What are you two yukking it up about out there?” Quinn’s mom called. “And why wasn’t I invited?”
“Nothing, Mom. We’re just giving Ronan a ration of sh—crap behind his back.”
His dad laughed low. “She’s really got you buttoned up with the swearing.”
“She’s been training me for a while. I guess it’s sticking, which is too fucking bad because swearing is so goddamn … liberating.”
“Amen to that.”
Quinn’s mom appeared around a corner, surprising them both. “I heard that.”
“Of course you did.” His dad winked at her. “We said it for your benefit.”
“So what were you saying about Ronan?”
“Nothing interesting because Ronan’s not interesting,” Quinn quipped.
“Did you know he whisked Jen away for a romantic, us-only staycation?” His mother’s eyebrows bounced.
“Hadn’t heard that. What motivated him?” Quinn imagined a showdown where Jen threatened to leave the douchebag.
His mom shrugged. “Beats me. He said something about how lucky he is, and how he needed to step it up. Apparently, he’s got it in his head she might walk out on him some day, and he doesn’t want that. Wonder who planted that bug in his ear?”
He listened? “Who knows? Maybe he finally wised up.”
“Well, it was long overdue. Hopefully my youngest son will wise up too.” His mom bobbed her head as if to emphasize her words.
He gaped at her. “What does that mean?”
Gleaming, wise blue eyes darted to the ceiling and back again. “Don’t let Sarah get away.”
“I don’t want to,” he spluttered. “But that girl has a mind of her own, and I’m not sure that mind is convinced I’m anything but a fling.”
“Give her time. Then convince her otherwise. Show her you are the man for her, just like you showed your team you’re their best winning goal-scorer.”