Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
brODY
It’s easy to steal from the condo unnoticed this morning, with Bianca sleeping in the den. Stopping in front of her closed door, I pause, gripping my luggage handle tightly so I don’t raise my hand to knock, don’t push the door open and go to her, kiss her good-bye while she sleeps.
A long breath shudders from me, and I force myself to move on. I should be concentrating on hockey, not thinking about how soft Brooks’ skin is, how warm and pliable she is in the mornings.
Fuck.
I stop in the kitchen and fill my Whalers to-go cup with coffee, then empty the rest into the carafe for her. I could have made a single cup, or picked up a coffee on the way to the arena, or waited until I got there for coffee. But I thought of her, wanted to make coffee for her.
Shaking my head, I grab my coat, push through the door, and take the elevator down to the garage.
I need to stop thinking of her, considering her, wanting her.
We have a two-game road trip that I need to concentrate on. Starting now.
Most of the guys are animated, even at seven a.m., as we climb the boarding stairs to the team’s private jet. A cold breeze picks up, and I barely feel it though I’m carrying my coat instead of wearing it.
“What are you made of, Holden? Ice?” Windy nudges me from behind. “You don’t feel the chill in the air because you’re colder than—”
“Shut up, Windy,” I snap at him instead of ignoring him or laughing like I normally would.
Sabien follows me and takes the seat next to me where Ax usually sits.
“To what do I owe the honor?”
“I figured you could use someone to talk to—someone who knows what’s what.”
“You mean someone who might be partly responsible for my current predicament?”
He surprises me when he nods. I can’t actually blame this fake marriage fiasco on him even if he did start the ball rolling. I could have stopped it all at any time since day one.
Maybe it’s time I looked at the reason why I didn’t.
“This,” I raise my left hand and finger the ring, “is not on you. I take full responsibility.”
“What about Brooks? How much responsibility do you put on her?” His words are more curious than accusing, and I give him a sideways glance, then take the last gulp of my coffee.
“I’ll need to drink something stronger than coffee to answer that question.”
He snorts. “Okay. We’re rooming together, so we can have that discussion after the game tonight.”
I don’t bother responding, closing my eyes instead and envisioning myself skating on the Washington Capitals’ rink, outracing their team, outdoing them on the face-offs, and winning.
Then I open my eyes because I remember I’m benched. “Fuck.”
“What?” Sabien looks at me, brows furrowed.
“I’m benched for tonight.”
“As long as you play against Boston you’ll live. The team won’t fall apart. Just don’t pull any more shit, especially in the playoffs.”
I give him the finger since he knows I’m on my best behavior now. I have something to prove to the team, to make my talk about being a team player a reality.
“Will Brooks be coming down to the game in Boston?”
“No.” I never asked her, but I know she won’t.
Not now. Two days ago I would have said hell yeah.
I would have rented a luxury suite overlooking Boston Harbor and had her wait for me in bed so I could walk into the room after the game and find her there, a gorgeous, sexy, warm woman who stops my breath when I look at her.
That scene is one of my favorite fantasies, and now it won’t work unless she’s the woman in it.
I push the seat back and glance out the window. There’s nothing to see but clouds.
I’m not sure why I’ve never arranged that fantasy before. Guess I never had a woman I looked forward to sleeping with this much. A pain shoots through my gut, and I close my eyes again.
“Why not?” Sabien presses.
“Grilling me about Brooks isn’t a good idea right now.”
“Everything okay?”
My only response is a grunt.
Which he interprets correctly and says, “Something’s wrong.”
“I don’t have what she’s looking for.”
“What might that be? You have money, looks, charm—”
“I’m not capable of the kind of romantic relationship she’s looking for.”
He laughs. “Who says?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m serious.”
“When have I ever had a romantic relationship? Never. I don’t do romantic relationships. All I have are three categories of relationships with women: family—which doesn’t count—friends, and lovers. Brooks wants neither of those.”
“What do you want?”
I snort. “Are you serious? I’d be her lover all day long until she kicks me out.”
He smirks. “Sounds a lot like a romance to me. Aren’t you the one who kicks your lovers out of bed? And usually before morning?”
“This isn’t the same as that.” He’s right, though, and the fact that what’s going on with me and Brooks isn’t the same as my usual female relationships makes me more than uncomfortable. “Nothing about this is right.” That’s the only thing I’m sure of.
“You sure about that?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” My voice is fiercer than I meant it.
“Take it easy, dude. Keep your voice down.” He looks around, and Ax stops in the aisle at our row.
Sabien nods at him, and after a quick glance at my glowering face, Ax gives Sabien the thumbs up and moves on.
Without exchanging a word, they communicated the exchange of seats.
The same way I communicate with Brooks sometimes.
Except when Brooks and I communicate, it’s not about something so simple as exchanging seats on a plane. We go deep, and I can’t deny it any more than I can explain it.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I mutter.
“Try me.”
I give him a look and shake my head. No way I’m opening up the mysterious vault of my current relationship with Brooks. Too many feelings may jump out.
“Shit,” I mutter, pushing a hand through my unruly hair. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Look, I know you have feelings for her. It’s as plain as an empty net goal.”
“Of course I have feelings for her,” I kid, rolling my eyes as if it’s no big deal.
“Not romantic feelings. She’s Brooks. I respect her professionally.
And we get along. We’re friends.” And we have this amazing sexual chemistry.
I stop talking because I can’t stand the knowing smirk on Sabien’s face. I elbow him.
He chuckles. “This is more fun than it should be.”
“What?” I snap under my breath as I feel my glower deepen.
“You falling in love—”
“What the fuck? Don’t even think that. You can’t be serious?” My outrage sputters from me as my heart suddenly hammers like it’s getting ready to run.
Lifting both hands to my head, I shove them through my hair, barely resisting the temptation to pull it out. Shit. Shit. Shit. What if he’s right?
I feel like I’m going to lose my non-existent breakfast, and the plane hasn’t even lifted off the ground.
“Take it easy. It’s not the end of the world. After all, you’re already married and sleeping—”
“Shut the fuck up.” I glare at him. His words sound somehow disrespectful, like I’m using her, and nothing could be farther from the truth.
“All I mean is you’re in the perfect position to test out your relationship and see how far your feelings go.” The way he looks at me, more compassionate and serious than I’ve ever seen him, is like the final snick on the lock of my vault.
Feelings pummel me from inside, violently demanding release, and I can barely control them, can’t get a read on them as I try to hold it together.
“That’s exactly what I’m fucking afraid of,” I grit out the words and take a deep, shuddering breath. “Been there. Done that. Never going back.” I fold my arms across my chest as if that’ll protect my thudding heart from Cupid’s dangerous arrows. Or at least slow down the unhealthy thundering.
“But—”
“We’re getting divorced. As of next week.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “What’s the rush?”
“It’s Brooks’ idea.”
His expression goes from shocked to sympathetic quick enough for me to backpedal. If there’s anything I hate even more than this confused messed-up swarm of emotions, it’s misplaced sympathy. Sabien looks like he’s feeling more sorry for me than I am about being benched.
“Don’t get all sappy. It’s for the best. We can’t carry off this fake marriage forever. That would make it a real marriage. This charade needs to end before it blows up. Brooks called it, and I agree a hundred percent.”
“Won’t that affect her job? She can’t still be your agent if you’re divorced. The union would cite that as a conflict of interest.”
I nod. “She’s working on that. I told her I’d help, point some business to the agency.”
He’s quiet for a few beats, staring at me, looking like someone’s mother checking for symptoms of something. I suppress whatever I’m feeling, not wanting to know, but it’s fucking hard to keep my mask in place, to keep the churning in my gut from getting to me.
He nods. “Cherry told me Brooks is thinking of taking on music industry talent. She has a friend who sings?”
I smile, the staccato rhythm of my heart easing up, my unsettled emotions receding from my gut with the safe ground of talking business. “The mysterious Kat. I haven’t met her or heard her sing, so I’m not sure how ready she is for prime time.”
“She’s good. Real good.” Sabien grins. “She’s also hot, which doesn’t hurt.”
“How do you know?”
“We checked out her YouTube channel when Cherry told me about her.” He picks up his phone and scrolls through until he finds what he’s looking for, then he hands it to me.
It takes me less than ten seconds to be impressed. “Wow. Maybe she is good client material.”
“Maybe you can help,” he says. “Add your star power while it’s hot and recommend her, get seen around town with her, and post some pics. That kind of thing.”
“Since when did you get so savvy about social media promotions?”
“Since I’ve been helping to promote my wife’s dog portrait business—which is kicking ass, by the way.”
“Right. You know as soon as I get a dog or cat, she’s the first call I’ll make.”