43. Lavinia #2
It has the intended effect, and I lose the puck. He swipes it out from under me and it takes me a second to realize what he’s done. I whirl around and throw him a dirty look.
“If you can’t win fair and square then maybe you shouldn’t be playing,” I call out to him.
He scores a goal and turns around to face me, raising his arms in question. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I scored a goal fair and square.”
“Yeah, after you distracted me.”
His grin is lascivious. “Are you easily distracted by me, Blossom?”
“I’m easily annoyed by you.”
He drops the puck in the middle again and this time I’m aware of his dirty game, so I don’t let him distract me. When he tries to whisper filth in my ear, I elbow him and steal the puck. His laughter follows me as I score a goal.
“That’s 2-1!”
As I skate past him, he grabs my arm and stops me.
“Let me know if you need a break,” he says.
“What, scared of losing to me?”
Pushing him away, I take a few slap shots. It’s so freeing to be on the ice again. Sure, there aren’t any fans, no audience, no competition to win. But I was almost afraid to get back out here.
“You know this is the first time I’m skating since my injury?”
I look back at Roman in time to see him blink at me in surprise. “I figured you would’ve gotten back on the ice as soon as possible.”
“I wanted to. I had this debilitating fear that I wouldn’t be where I was before the injury.”
It feels monumental to be here, like I’ve broken invisible chains that have been holding me back for the last two years.
“You’re clearly still at the top of your game,” Roman says, wryly.
He skates up to me, ready for our face off again.
Before we get the chance, the door to the rink opens and a boy walks in.
He’s tall, with a head of curly dark hair, a bag pulled over one shoulder.
He can’t be older then seventeen or eighteen.
Roman straightens when he sees him.
“Ty, you’re early.”
The boy shrugs. “Figured I’ll get in a bit of practice before you showed up.” He ushers Roman closer but doesn’t realize that his voice echoes. “Did you bring her here to impress her? A little one on one session with Roman Maddox?”
I have to smother my laugh. Roman looks at me over his shoulder, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Kid, this is Lavinia Callahan. She wouldn’t be impressed by my hockey skills. Go get in your gear.”
He leaves and Roman skates back to me.
“I wouldn’t say I’m not impressed by your hockey skills,” I say. “Just that I appreciate some of your other skills more.”
He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer and kissing me until I’m giggling against his mouth. “I’ll show you all of my skills tonight.”
“There are more?” I blink up at him owlishly.
“Baby, we haven’t even scratched the surface.” Stepping away from me, he picks up the puck. “Do you mind if we stick around for an hour or two? I haven’t really had the time to play with Tyler, and I promised him that I’ll do it today.”
“Wait, you’re playing with him? So, he’s not a random kid who walked in here?”
Roman plays with the puck in his hand, keeping his eyes on it. It’s not like it’s dark in the rink so I can clearly see the tops of his cheeks turning red.
“Yeah, I play with him sometimes. He’s the captain of his hockey team and has a full ride to Mercer. You’ll be impressed.”
He shrugs it off like it’s not a big deal that he’s going out of his way to play with a random kid. Like it doesn’t even mean anything. Where are all the Roman Maddox haters now?
It’s a stark reminder that Roman’s a closed book.
Whatever he’s feeling, whatever he’s thinking, he keeps it to himself.
“Are you telling me that the bad boy Roman Maddox is secretly a good boy?”
Roman drops the puck onto the ice, raising his eyes to glare at me. “Don’t call me a good boy again.”
I can’t stop the shit eating grin that splits my face. “Oh my God, you really are a good boy.”
I laugh as he chases me, and then Tyler walks out onto the ice.
We spent the next hour playing hockey with him and it’s the most fun I’ve had in years.
Roman’s a great coach. He’s quiet and patient, he watches and corrects.
And he’s right. Tyler’s a really good hockey player, and he has what it takes to go all the way.
After we shower and change, I find Roman and Tyler standing outside the rink, both on their phones. When I ask them what they’re doing they tell me they’re trying to organize their schedules, so Roman can come back and play with Tyler again. It’s honestly so cute.
We drop Tyler off at the library where he tells me his mom is working. As we’re about to drive off, Roman gets a text message and he curses softly.
“We have to make a stop on our way back to the apartment. Is that okay?”
“Of course, is everything okay?”
Roman brings my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Everything is fine. Have you considered being more demanding? You don’t have to go along with everything all the time.”
“I like being easy-going.”
Roman drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on my thigh the whole time. His grip is possessive, and I feel my body growing warmer at his touch. If only he’d slide his hand a little higher.
He drives with the easy confidence that he does everything, and I love that he’s so sure about his place in this world, that he’s not afraid to take up space.
I realize that’s an odd thing to say about a man because when are men afraid to take up space. But I’m also starting to understand that the last thing Roman wants is attention.
It’s starting to drizzle a little and it’s already growing dark by the time we stop in front of what appears to be a Pilates studio.
“Are we going to Pilates as well?” I ask him, a little confused.
Roman looks at me, his eyes dark. “No, we’re not here for the class. We’re here for the instructor.”
As soon as he says it, the back door of the car opens, and a dark-haired woman gets in. She brings with her the scent of rain and sweet Jasmine.
“Thank you so much for picking me up,” she says in a rush. “I would’ve called ride share, but the dads saw a documentary about women being kidnapped and forced into sexual slavery and now I’m not allowed to take ride share anymore.”
She’s stunningly beautiful with thick dark hair, bright red lips, and a nose ring that glitters each time the light catches it. Her dark eyes look at me and widen in surprise.
“Shit, are you on a date? And you still stopped to pick me up?”
Roman sighs, starting the car and pulling out into traffic. “This is Lavinia. My wife.”
The woman is even more surprised to hear that. “I’m sorry, what?” She blinks at him. “The consummate bachelor Roman Maddox is married ? I thought we were going to grow old together.”
“I don’t know why you thought that, considering the only time I hear from you is when you’re texting me murder stats, and now you asked me to pick you up like I’m your personal taxi.” Roman looks at her in the rearview mirror.
She shrugs before turning to me. “I’m Elena LaFleur, by the way. Roman’s cousin. The only family member he can stand to be around.”
“That’s not true. I also love your fathers,” Roman corrects.
“You’re the cousin texting Roman hockey injury stats,” I say.
Elena turns to me with a beatific smile. “That’s me! It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. Though, probably not as much as you’d assume given the fact that I had no idea my only cousin had gotten married.”
“Just like I had no idea you moved back to Boston until the uncles sent out their monthly newsletter,” Roman says.
“Your family has a monthly newsletter, and you think my family is odd?” I ask.
Roman glances at me quickly. “I think your family is odd because they’re so close and I don’t know what that’s like. Mine has a newsletter because they don’t talk to each other.”
In the backseat, Elena is nodding. “It’s true, they hate each other.”
My family isn’t exactly perfect. We don’t talk to my dad’s brother and his family because my aunt hates my mom.
I have a cousin, and we were close when we were kids.
We still keep updates on each other’s lives, though we’re not that close.
I think he works in cyber security. Definitely something to do with the internet.
“I've been training most of my life. I can't blame Roman for not being a part of it,” Elena says.
“Oh, that's so cool. What were you training for?”
“I was a professional ballerina. I'm a retired old crone now,” Elena replies.
I get what she means. As an athlete, I know that we have a limited number of years that we can play before our bodies start to give out. I'm a prime example of that.
“And now you're a Pilates instructor?” I ask her.
Roman makes a noise which I think is a laugh.
“I dabble,” Elena says. “I teach Pilates, I teach ballet to littles, and I teach pole dancing to their mothers and guardians. When I'm not doing that, I also play roller derby.”
I turn around to look at her with excitement. “I've always wanted to try roller derby.”
“Is there a sport you haven't wanted to try?” Roman asks with a laugh.
I think about it. “Probably baseball. I wouldn't know what to do.”
“You should come play with us sometimes,” Elena says. “It's totally amateur so you don't need to know anything other than the rules, which we’ll teach you.”
“I’d love that, thank you!”
I sit back against my seat, smiling out the windshield. Roman squeezes my thigh and when I look up, he smiles at me. It’s small and warm, filling me with so many scary feelings I’m not sure what I’m going to do.