Chapter 18 Henrik
HENRIK
The narrowed look of suspicion on Ren’s face makes me laugh. Really laugh, head back, joy rumbling up out of me like a grizzly’s first meal after a long hungry winter.
“Who are you, and what did you do with my friend?”
“The grim, silent bastard? He’s too busy smiling at Darby to give a fuck what you’re doing.”
“Even if I’m smiling and looking too.”
I hear the question at the end of that statement.
See the doubt in the tightness around his eyes.
I grab the coffee decanter and top off his cup.
“I told her I’d do anything to get her to stay right here with me.
With us. Even invite you to help yourself to some of that dessert you glimpsed in the window last night. ”
Still guarded, he searches my face, no doubt looking for the booby trap. “Since when does the Mighty Zon want to share with the Hotshot?”
Decades of jokes and tabloid stories rattle between us like rival announcers on repeat. Gustafson’s the top scorer on and off the ice. The Blizzard’s center can’t be blocked. No puck—or lady—is safe from his charm.
Versus my reputation as the silent, cold goaltender.
The Mighty Zon beating the groupies off him like a bodyguard.
Slinging my drunk center over my shoulder and carrying him away from the table of eager fans.
Standing guard at his door so he could get some sleep without another fan slipping into his bed—because he would never send them away.
“We made a hell of a team then,” I drawl out. “Maybe we can be an even better team now.”
He rolls his eyes. “You hated playing with me.”
His words cut through me with surprising sharpness. Any other time, I might have shrugged it off, assuming I was mistaken. But with Darby hanging in the balance, I won’t fuck around and mess this up. “What the fuck, man. I fucking loved playing with you.”
“You left the team without a word. Never even told me why, though I could guess. You’d finally had enough of my bullshit, and rightfully so. I was done with my bullshit too, but I couldn’t escape until the bitter end.”
“You were the best player on the ice, and my best friend off the rink. Why I left had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.”
His eyes flare, his mouth opening for a moment, though he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t buy it but also doesn’t want to piss me off and get into a full-blown argument with my love interest upstairs.
I’m going to have to rip off the scab and tell him the truth. Though this time it’ll be easier after telling Darby the story last night. I owe him the truth. Especially if it’s been eating at him too.
“It was Harley, okay? I couldn’t bear to see her every fucking day and know the only reason she deigned to even speak to me was because she hoped to get in your pants.”
His eyes blink. Muscles flex over his jaws. His knuckles whiten on the coffee mug’s handle. He’s frozen. Like the ice we both loved for so long.
“I felt like a fucking idiot,” I mutter, knowing my face is darkening. My blood pressure’s sky high. “I bought her an engagement ring.”
His mouth sags open, and he finally manages to splutter, “You were engaged?”
“Fuck no. But I was thinking about the future. I was willing to play out the slow burn wait because I thought she was the one, and I know I’m not easy to get to know. I’m downright scary.”
He chokes out a laugh. “Maybe in the beginning. You can be a bit prickly on the outside.”
“If I moved too fast, she flinched,” I say quietly. “There was history there I didn’t like. So I bided my time. I wined and dined her. I didn’t come on hot and heavy. Then I saw how she was with you, and I realized the truth.”
He sighed. “She was hot and heavy for me.”
“Exactly. She admitted she was using me to get to you. So I tossed the ring in a lake and told my agent to get me out as soon as possible.”
“You could’ve said something to me.”
Shame churns in my stomach even now. Humiliation. Regret. “My ego hit the boards, man. Hard. But yeah, I should’ve told you the truth. I didn’t realize you blamed yourself for me leaving the team.”
He sips his coffee, while I turn back to the dishwasher, finish loading the dishes, and start it.
“Darby’s not scared of you.”
Wiping my hands on a towel, I lean back against the counter. “Which is exactly why I know she’s right, and why Harley was so wrong.”
“I get that.”
Though there’s an unspoken hesitation between us. “But?”
Letting out a deep breath, he meets my gaze head on. “It makes even less sense to me now why you’d even think about working out a partnership.”
“For one thing, we’ve both matured since then. Look at us being all civilized, talking about our feelings instead of beating the shit out of each other on the ice.”
He smirks as I hoped he would. “I earned every black eye and bruise I ever had.”
I step closer to him, twisting the towel in my hands. Letting my shoulders cord, my pecs pop beneath my shirt. I’m a foot taller than him and outweigh him a good fifty, sixty pounds. If it came down to war between the two of us, I’d wipe the floor with his ass.
But that’s never been our relationship. He mouths off, starts a fight, and I come in to protect his ass, wiping the floor with everyone else who thought they were only dealing with the cocky Hotshot and not his giant goalie.
“I see the way she looks at you,” I say. My tone, while soft, could be interpreted as menacing. For a moment, I do see a flicker of concern in his eyes. Not fear, he knows me better than that. But an internal bracing, as if the one thing he’s always feared is about to come to pass.
Keeping my tone even and low, I lean closer. Hands planted on the island, making the wood groan beneath my weight. “And I care about her too much to take anything away from her. Even—especially—you.”
DARBY
Maybe it’s my imagination, but as I come back downstairs, the air feels charged with electricity. Did they have a disagreement?
About me?
Gulp. My heart pounds so hard I can’t hear anything but rushing blood in my ears. Remember the plan. I have no intention of getting involved with any of the other guys. Especially Ren.
Evidently he has other ideas.
His cocky grin is still there, but now his eyes burn with a sultry, come-hither look, despite his best friend standing feet away. Like he peeked into my head and caught me thinking about him.
“Everything okay?” Henrik asks.
My gaze jumps to his, and his eyes narrow.
The wooden island creaks beneath his mighty hands.
His face darkens. Something inside me starts to shrivel with dread, reliving all the horrible arguments with Michael.
The abject misery of feeling trapped with someone who’s supposed to love you but now acts like they hate the sight of your face and the sound of your voice.
Arms engulf me, pulling me up off my feet against a broad, heavy chest. Henrik holds me against him, my face in his shirt, his heartbeat loud in my ear. The spicy, woodsy scent of his cologne thick in my nose. His chest hairs tickle my face.
He bows his head closer and rests his chin on the top of my head. “Whatever it is, it’s okay, Darby. Let me help. Please. We’ll figure it out.”
“You’re not mad?” I whisper. “At me?” At Ren?
A rumble vibrates his entire body against me. “Why the fuck would I be mad? Because you took a phone call from your friend? Hardly. But I’m about to tear apart whatever or whoever made you cry.”
“Oh.” Geez. Talk about my guilty conscience trying to betray me. “I did get some news from Kirstin but I’m over it already. I was sad, yeah, but…” I shrug my shoulders and tip my face up towards his so he can see the relieved smile quirking my lips. “I’ve got way bigger things to think about now.”
He scowls as he sets me down on my feet. “How big?”
My smile widens and I huff out a laugh. “So big. The biggest.”
“Humph. Sit that cute butt down and tell me what’s going on.”
Sitting at the island puts me within arm’s length of Ren. He’s still eating his breakfast, but he turns partially to face me. Close enough the hairs on my arm prickle beneath the hoodie. Like there’s a physical charge in the air rolling off him.
Henrik fills my cup, and I add some half and half, stirring a little longer to gather my thoughts. I don’t like delving into my past. Even if I leave in a few days, Henrik deserves to know the truth. He bared his soul about Harley last night. The least I can do is tell him about Michael.
Even though it makes my stomach clench. I very carefully focus on the cup in my hand, unable to watch Henrik’s reactions.
“Michael and I started dating in high school. I was the quiet geeky choir A+ grades kid, and he was popular, outgoing, played all the sports, did all the things. Everyone was shocked he wanted to date me, to be honest, but he said my steady, studious ways helped him get into college, and he certainly talked me into being more outgoing and taking risks I normally wouldn’t have taken.
“He got a scholarship to CU, so we married right out of high school and left Vegas for Denver. College was harder than he expected, and he didn’t play at all despite having to do all the practices and camps.
His grades slipped and then he got kicked off the team anyway.
He dropped out and hopped around at various jobs.
It was tight, but I found a job working at a bakery close to campus, and I was able to graduate with a business degree. ”
I pause a moment to sip my coffee, fortifying myself for the next part of the tale when things really went south.