Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Viktor
Game one. The semi-finals. Four wins away from competing for the championship.
It’s what we all dream of, and this is the closest I’ve come to getting there as a starting goalie.
I’ve won a championship with the Blizzard, but I was the backup, so it was different.
This is literally what we play for every single season.
And yet, I’m not thinking about hockey. Not as we share the pre-game meal. Not as I change into my gear. Not even as Coach comes in to give us a pep talk.
All I can think about is my beautiful wife.
Who told me I make her feel safe.
Who told me she doesn’t think it’s inappropriate for me to touch her.
Who all but threw herself at me last night.
And I turned her down.
Gently. Pragmatically.
But it was still rejection.
When we skate out for the warm-up, I search the crowds gathered along the glass. I see Serena, then my parents. Aunt Irina. Olga.
But no Holly.
Dammit.
I ignore my parents because I’m incredibly annoyed about what my mother pulled last night. I promised Holly I would let her handle it but that doesn’t mean I like it. And now she’s not down at the glass with the rest of the wives who flew out for the game.
“You ready?” West is our team captain and he drops down into a squat beside me as we stretch.
“I think so.”
“Crowd is loud tonight,” he murmurs.
“This will be a tough team,” I say needlessly.
“I feel like our system works,” he says. “It’s gotten us where we are. We just have to play the game we’ve played all season.”
I shake my head. “No—we must be prepared for a different game because they know our system. They have been watching since the playoffs started.”
“You sound like Coach,” he jokes. “You plan to take over for him when you retire?”
I chuckle. “Probably not. My English not so good.”
“I’d say you have a while to work on it. Besides, between Holly, Kelly, and the rest of us, we’ll get you there.”
“I think I’m going to puke,” Ashton says, coming over to join us.
“Only think about hockey,” I tell him. “Forget everything else.”
He grimaces. “My mom is here. My brothers are here—Kingston is going to sing the national anthem.” His brother Kingston is the lead singer of one of the biggest rock bands in the world—Onyx Knight—and it’s a big deal that he’s here tonight.
“Block it out,” West says. “Let your body take over.”
I look over to where Simon is taking shots in net—the starting goalie usually sits out the warm-up other than some stretching—and I try to focus on the task at hand. I glance at the glass again and then I see her.
Holly is standing with Serena, a soft smile on her face.
She’s wearing my jersey.
And then she waves. It’s discreet, a small waggle of her fingers, but I see it.
I’m propelled forward as if by magnetic force. As I get closer to the glass, Olga presses forward, grinning. But I ignore her.
I only have eyes for my wife.
“Hi,” I say softly, putting one hand flat against the glass.
“Hi.” I can’t hear her, and I’m sure she didn’t hear me, but we can read lips.
And eyes. Because hers are saying a million things I’m not sure either of us could vocalize at this point.
There’s something between us, no matter how hard we try to resist. It’s been brewing almost since the first time we met, when I decided saving her would also save me.
Deal or no deal, the pull between us is stronger than anything I’ve felt in a long time. Maybe ever. And no matter what I said last night, or my resolve to keep things platonic, my gut tells me we’re hurdling toward a cliff at full speed.
It’s just a matter of how long until we go over the edge.
And how hard we crash when we land.
We pull out the win 4-2 and it’s breathtaking.
New York has a great team, but tonight we were better, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Everyone in the NHL is good. Every team has a shot. It’s just a matter of being a tiny bit better than your opponent on any given night and doing it more often than anyone else.
Tonight, we made it happen.
One win down, three more to go.
We strike another box off the board we have, keeping track. It takes sixteen wins to lift the Stanley Cup, and we just won game nine.
“I want everyone to go back to the hotel and rest,” Coach Teller says when he joins us. “I’m not even kidding. If I see reports or video of any of you going out tonight, unless it’s to get food, you’ll pay me five grand. Understand?”
Everyone nods.
This group is pretty good about following the rules, especially since Coach is pretty relaxed about most things. But tomorrow is a day off and the next day we play this team again, in their arena. If we can head back to Atlanta up 2-0 in the series, it makes our job that much easier.
I shower and change, anxious to get back to the hotel.
Coach told us not to have friends and family come down to the locker room after the game—too much chaos in another team’s arena—so we’ll meet up with everyone at the hotel.
Holly was supposed to have dinner with my family but I don’t know if that happened.
“It doesn’t seem fair that we can’t celebrate,” Blaze Villaverde says as we file out to the bus.
“You are not old enough to celebrate,” I point out, since he’s only nineteen and not old enough to legally drink.
He rolls his eyes. “Not everything is about drinking.”
“You don’t need to pick up some bunny in the middle of the playoffs,” Ashton tells him.
“How else am I supposed to relax?” he complains.
They climb the bus ahead of me and West chuckles. “Remember when all we thought about was sex?” he asks me.
I remember well because it seems to be all I’m thinking about today.
“You no longer think about sex?” I ask playfully.
He laughs. “I do, but not twenty-four-seven.”
“Because you know you have it waiting at home. Is more complicated when you are single.”
He meets my gaze curiously, but since there are so many people around, he doesn’t ask what I think he’s going to ask.
“Don’t,” I warn as I sink into a seat.
“I didn’t say anything,” he laughs, sitting beside me. “None of my business.”
It’s not, but I really wish I could ask for some advice.
So I do.
“If you were in my situation,” I ask quietly. “Would you…do it?”
His eyes widen just a little. “Dude, if you’re asking me whether or not I would sleep with my wife in your situation…fuck yeah.” He pauses. “Assuming she’s into it. I think that goes without saying.”
“She is,” I murmur without looking at him.
“Then what’s the problem?
“You do not find this…complicated?”
He shrugs. “Why? If you weren’t married, and just dating, you’d probably be sleeping together. Yeah, there’s a chance you’ll break up, but there’s always that chance. This shouldn’t be any different.”
“But there is no…future.”
“Why not? Because you plan to retire to Russia? What makes you think she wouldn’t want to go?”
I finally look at him because that literally never crossed my mind. “Why would she…I mean, life in America is much better!”
“Then why wouldn’t you stay here?” he counters.
Suddenly I’m as confused as I am frustrated.
“I do not want her to feel…pressure.”
“Then make sure you talk to her.”
Why does it sound so easy when he says it like that?
The bus pulls to a stop in front of the hotel and we all pile out. I see friends and family milling about in the lobby, along with a handful of what have to be fans. But all I see is Holly. She’s standing with Serena and someone I don’t recognize, and they’re laughing about something.
She’s so pretty when she laughs. It lights up her entire face, her overall sweetness practically radiating out of her.
It’s one of the things I love best about her, the way her smile lights up not just her face, but the entire room.
And she’s oblivious to it. I think that’s something else I really like, how she doesn’t seem aware of her beauty, or how it impacts everyone around her.
She’s genuine.
I take two steps in her direction, anxious to say hello, maybe even have a conversation about the things I’ve been thinking about, but before I can get to her Olga steps in front of me.
“Viktor. What an amazing game!” she says.
Then she throws her arms around me for a hug, pressing her cheek to mine.
“I’m very proud of you,” she whispers.
I quickly unwind her arms from around me and step back. “Don’t do that,” I say in Russian. “I don’t know what my mother’s told you, or promised you, but this ends here.”
She actually laughs. A loud, full-blown, throws her head back kind of laugh. The kind that makes everyone turn around. “Don’t be coy, Viktor. We know what’s going on. Where did you find someone to pretend to be your wife? What’s in it for her?”
I don’t even hesitate. “The marriage is real. When we return to Atlanta, I can show you the marriage license and certificate. Stop embarrassing yourself, Olga. Holly is my wife and nothing you or my mother do is going to change that.”
I step around her and walk over to Holly.
“Hi.” She smiles at me. “What was—”
I don’t let her finish. Instead, I wrap one arm around her waist, pull her close, and drop my mouth to hers.