by Stacy Lane
“It’s been a couple days,” I reply to Jo when she asks. “He’s avoiding me, and I don’t know why.”
“Maybe he’s busy with work. The trade deadline, you know.”
I suppress the grin threatening to break out on my face. “Trade deadlines are in February.”
Jo’s trying her best to understand hockey, I shouldn’t laugh.
“Oh. Then what’s with all the trading and signing on new players?” she asks, smothering a fry in ketchup.
Triplets is relatively calm for a Thursday evening. Cam said he expected the decline of patrons in the off-season.
“That’s just what happens around July. Some guys are free agents, and some have contracts that are about to expire.” I reach for the pickle on her platter that came with the burger.
“Well, that sounds like time-consuming stuff. I bet he has a heavy workload.” Jo smacks my hand. “Get your own.”
I asked Cam if I could just order a pickle. He told me no.
And here I thought I’d get special treatment for dating one of the owners.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I answer Jo.
I don’t want to sound needy, because I’m not. Alex doesn’t have to account for his whereabouts. He’s a busy man with his first season as the GM right around the corner.
But something feels off.
Alex is attentive and present. He shows up even when I don’t realize I need him. He involves me in everything that goes on in his day-to-day.
Then suddenly to not hear from him?
“Is something else going on?” Jo asks.
Oh, right. I have other problems happening in my life too.
“The interior design dream is not panning out as I had hoped.”
“That’s nonsense. You can’t give up.”
“I have no clients, Jo.” Tears puddled in my eyes. I suck in a quick breath of air to keep them at bay.
Saying that aloud was a rush of sadness I wasn’t expecting.
Jo hands over her pickle. She’s such a good friend.
“I feel like a failure,” I say.
“Don’t make me slap you. You are not a failure, Chels.”
“Tell that to my very empty client list.”
She swivels in her stool, back straightening. “Fine. I need my bedroom redone. Brooks has taken over my space, and it’s not working for me.”
“That’s a pity offer,” I smirk.
“When you don’t have clients, you can’t be choosy. And I guess I’ll just have to dump Brooks and kick him out to get my cohesiveness back. Then I’ll be heartbroken, and it’ll be your fault.”
“Now that’s just blackmail.”
“Who ya blackmailing, angel?” Brooks drapes his arm over her shoulders, stepping into our conversation.
“Me,” I grumble.
“If she doesn’t let me hire her, I have to kick you out.”
“Drastic. Maybe we have been living together too long,” Brooks grins.
“I think the bar could use some zhooshing too,” she adds, flinging her hand in no general direction.
“What’s wrong with my bar? And what the fuck is zhooshing?” Cam snaps his bar rag at Jo.
“Just a little spicing up,” Jo replies.
Cam winds up his towel to slap her with it again. Before he pulls the trigger, I say, “Actually, I wouldn’t change anything at Triplets. Which is saying a lot because I typically want to rearrange a chair, at the very least.”
“Thanks, Chelsea. You’re my favorite sister now.”
“You can’t play favorites,” Jo argues.
“I used to be second?”
“You’re an idiot, Cam,” Brooks chuckles, shaking his head.
“There’s always a favorite. You all know I’m number one in every category. Son, brother, brother-in-law, best Labelle in the sack…”
“Ehh,” Jo disputes.
I shake a finger no no no no.
“I’m not even mad at those reactions. We all know you wouldn’t have fallen in love with Brooks and Alex if you liked me more. My brothers need love too.”
Jo and I throw peanuts at him.
“So what’s wrong with our bedroom?” Brooks asks.
“I don’t have any work lined up, and your girlfriend is trying to fix that.”
I lift the martini to my lips. A look passes between Brooks and Cam. I catch it because Cam was busy shaking the front of his shirt free of cashews when his hand jerked to a stop.
“What’d Alex say?” Brooks asks, but they are both avoiding eye contact with me.
“I haven’t talked to him in a few days.” Carefully, I watch for their reaction. I can tell what Cam is not number one in. His shifty look gives it away that they know something. “What’s going on?”
Jo glances at Brooks as my gaze sharpens.
“Alex has to answer that, Chels.” Cam scratches along his jaw, his gaze roaming up and down the bar for any new orders he may need to take. But Triplets is dead tonight.
“Do you know where he is?” I ask.
As if the hockey gods were on my side—clearly the Labelle brothers were sticking together—I hear a name mentioned on the TV behind the bar that catches my attention.
The hockey network station plays on a loop. Analysts sit around a table, three guys and one woman. At the bottom of the screen, the news ticker with the Fury’s logo has a short headline: Buyout discussion for Victor Matthias.
“Turn that up, Cam,” I tell him, zeroing in on the woman’s voice.
“Chels, they don’t know shit. You can’t listen to that.”
“They obviously know more than I do.”
“Does buyout mean he’s getting rid of Vic?” Jo looks around at the three of us.
I can’t take my eyes off the screen. They really aren’t saying anything we don’t already know.
The Fury’s budget was in bad shape. Alex doesn’t have the money to buy out Vic’s contract. The possibility spikes interest of there being an internal conflict between the new management and Matthias.
And that conflict is me.
“Where is he?” I ask again, this time with more grit.
“Alex wants to get it all handled before he explains what’s been going down.”
“As he’s the one I’ve been dating, he should know I don’t want anything handled for me. Especially if it jeopardizes his job. Brooks, the Fury doesn’t have the money for that. Alex is good, but even he can’t clean up your team’s cap problems overnight.”
“He’s doing it for you. There’s a plan, I have no doubt. Alex is smart.”
“He’s leaving me out of something I’m apparently in the middle of. I assure you, he’s not being smart.” I stand from the stool, snatching my purse off the back.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to check his house first,” I reply to Jo.
“He’s in his office. At the arena.” Brooks pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call the gate, tell them to let you through.”
“Thank you, Brooks.”
• • •
AT THE VERY end of the hall is one opened office door. A mixture of overhead lights and the setting sun pours over the threshold.
If no one gave Alex a heads up, then he will hear me coming.
My heels click on the tiled floor, reverberating down the hallowed hallway. I pass other offices, but whomever they belong to have gone home for the night. Only my guy is still working.
Working on a stupid deal, I might add.
Vic is behind this plan, I know it. My instincts are always dead on with him. It’s what happens when you share a good chunk of your life with someone. Divorce is just paperwork. The deep-rooted emotions attached to that person take longer to separate from.
Alex has said nothing up to this point. I assumed Vic would show his ass once he found out I was with his boss, but not for a little while longer. And not this drastic.
I step through the doorway. To the right, with a view of the bay
and a marina at his back, Alex sits behind his desk.
His sharp gaze was waiting for me.
“You must really be avoiding me if you’re working from this office instead of the one I just designed for you. Mine is better, by the way.” My footsteps go quiet as the flooring changes to carpet. I stop in front of his desk, trailing a finger over the hardwood. Big and clunky just like the one I got rid of at home.
“You saw the leak,” he concludes.
“The buyout plan.” Alex nods at my confirmation. “I’m guessing he knows about us.”
“He does.”
“Well, tell him to get the fuck over it.”
His lips twitch. “It’s more complicated than that, sunshine.”
“It’s really not, Alex. We knew he would throw a fit. This is what Vic does. He knows how to manipulate any situation to get what he wants. He’s cruel enough to cause your firing and coward enough to take the easy way out.”
“I’m not going to be fired.”
“A buyout with what money then? Because a stupid move like that will get you fired.” I rest the palm of one hand on the surface of his desk, my other one on my hip.
“I love it when you’re testy.”
“Alex,” I groan.
“I love that walk of yours too. I could hear you coming from the second you stepped into the hallway.” He stands, coming around his desk in a prowl. “I love your fire. Your light. And that goddamn red lip.”
He’s going to make me forget what I came here for. Which I’m sure is his plan. I’ll let him have his way for a little while. Because sweet baby Jesus he looks hot when he’s in his element.
My purse slips off my shoulder.
Alex turns my body to face his.
He runs his thumb across my bottom lip. The sunset reflects in his eyes.
“I’m not going to get fired,” he says. “But if it were this job or you, I’d choose you, Chelsea.”
“Is it coming to that? Why are you saying this?” Concern laces my voice. Alex may say he would choose me over hockey, but I know guys like him. They live and breathe this game. Other stuff will come and go, but hockey will always be their constant.
“The buyout is a risky move, but I’m shuffling some things around to make it work. Coach Monty is on board for half of my plan.”
“Shuffling,” I repeat with skepticism. “What did he do?”
“Well, Coach is worried about trading Eddie—”
I throw my hand up. “Your plan is to trade your starting goaltender? Have you lost your mind? I was referring to Vic, by the way.”
I step out from between Alex and the front of his desk, throwing my purse into a chair nearby. In the center of his office, I spin around, ready for a face-off.
“Vic has to go. Quite frankly, so does Eddie,” he responds, propping against his desk and crossing his ankles. Alex’s jaw ticks with repressed anger.
He’s made up his mind.
“You’re letting whatever Vic has done cloud your judgment,” I say softly. “You want to trade Eddie, fine, but make sure you’re doing it because the Fury needs a goalie who performs better. You do not buyout Vic. You are stuck with him for two more years. Maybe his contract was a dumb move, but that’s not on you. That was Peters.”
“This is not about the team!” Alex yells, shoving off his desk and walking to the window.
I take a few steps toward him, then stop.
“There was a no fraternization clause in our contract. Due to past relations, that extended to partners and spouses. I broke my contract.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say.
“Kendricks cleared me of any repercussions. I told him you and I were serious. This was not just a fling.” Alex turns, arms folded across his chest. The cut of his jaw still raging. “Vic didn’t like that you came back. He’s been sabotaging your client list. Eddie tipped off Leon.”
I would love to be unaffected by Vic’s schemes, but hearing what he did still hurt. The difference between the hurt now and the pain from before is that it doesn’t consume me.
Vic’s actions and words used to push me over the edge of a steep mountain. I felt every sharp rock I hit on the way down. Up until lately, I was still falling. Now I stand at the bottom, bruised and cut, but strong enough to walk away.
“As long as he’s here, Vic will find a way to control you. And I will not allow that.” Alex closes the space between us.
“Allowing Vic to believe he can control any situation is what gives him the power. I’m asking you not to give him that.”
“What about your business?”
“I have a job lined up, possibly two if Cam agrees,” I smirk, one tiny tweak coming to mind that could benefit Triplets.
“The deal is not done, but I’m not throwing it out just yet.”
“How did you convince Mr. Kendricks not to fire you? Breaking contracts and now this stunt…”
“He’s a big softy,” he grins. “I went to his house the night we were all at Triplets with your sisters. He answered the door in his pajamas. I told him we weren’t dating yet, but we were going to be—”
“So sure of yourself,” I insert. At that time he hadn’t even asked me out yet.
“—and he could do whatever was necessary. Suspend me, fire me, whatever the consequences, I would not argue.”
“You chose me.” My arms slide around to his back.
Alex cups the side of my face, locking eyes. “I love you. I was going to fall in love with you no matter what, so you’ve been the only choice, Chelsea.”
His eyes brighten in a way I’ve never seen before. They remind me of the odd Florida rainy days where it’s gray and cloudy, but the sun still breaks through with its intense shine.
“Love, huh,” I say in a whimsical, stupid way.
But really, I’m feeling a little loopy with him saying he loves me.
It’s how he said it. So firm and final.
So very Alex like.
“Yeah,” he breathes, smiling. “I love you, Chelsea Lewis.”
“I love you, too.” My fingers slide into the hair at his nape, bringing his mouth down to mine.
Alex’s hands swoop around me, pulling me into his body with a secure hold.
We kiss with promise and passion; fire and light. With everything of who we were, and all the ways we’re better now that we have each other.
“Let’s go home,” he whispers against my lips.
EPILOGUE
ALEX
2019-20 season, Tampa Fury home opener
THE ELEVATOR DOORS parted as I was buttoning up my suit. I tucked a hand into my pocket and walked along the quiet hallway of the executive suites. It was much calmer down these carpeted halls compared to one floor below and above.
My new assistant stood outside the room I would be overseeing the game from. He was lean, tall, and wore a similar suit to mine. No bright pink or purple shirts like my last assistant. Marcus really was better off working with Chelsea, but I sort of missed him. His replacement was a lot similar to my personality. Chelsea liked to remind Phil to stop grimacing so much by pressing her finger in the center of his forehead.
We were just under an hour from puck drop. The adrenaline coursing through my veins was surprisingly similar to how I felt before playing in a game. I think this was first-time jitters though. My debut, so to speak. I’ve had months of preparation and press conferences, but this was the day it really begins.
“Do you have it, Phil?”
“Yes, sir.” He holds a bag out.
“Wonderful, thank you.” I wrap my fingers around the blue bag and continue down to my family suite. “I’ll be back before face-off.”
“Yes, sir.”
After the draft, some trades, and training camp, the new season was finally starting. Our family has grown in numbers in the matter of one season, so I’ve reserved a suite for every home game. Mom even attends more now that Jo and Chelsea are around. Cam finds it more accessible to come and go this way. Dad�
�s the only one who gripes, but he has a ticket reserved in the crowd of fans if he wants to leave.
I step into the Labelle suite, eyes immediately falling on the TV mounted up on the wall. The teams are on the ice, warming up. Our new goaltender was brought up from the farm team. He’s young, and his English is quite broken, but he plays damn good hockey. I was disappointed in Peters for not seeing this kid’s talent sooner.
Eddie was traded in July. It was a professional and personal decision I made in the end. Vic I’ve overlooked, he’s a selfish prick who will stir up trouble for anyone he deems weak enough to let him, but Eddie went too far by sending Leon to see if Chelsea would sleep with him. I wanted to murder Eddie every time I saw his face or heard his name.
Chelsea had been right about Vic anyway. When she didn’t move or quit her business, he moved onto someone else to manipulate.
And her interior design company was taking off now. It’s how she finally stole Marcus from me.
“Hi, baby,” Chelsea struts up to me as soon as I close the door behind me. Her luscious red mouth smiles as she tilts her face up.
I lay a kiss on her, sinking into it.
“He’s going to do good, right?” I’ve asked this question a million times, but only to her.
When I traded Eddie, I got a ton of heat from spectators. Rookie GM mistake, they liked to repeat. I never showed an ounce of apprehension to the public or even my family. Just Chelsea.
She was more than the love of my life. She’s also my teammate. Having her to discuss these heavy topics of hockey made me love us even more.
“Yes. I believe you made a good call with this new guy. If it makes you feel better, I can get Jo over here again and repeat Eddie’s stats with the robotic probability thing she does.”
Jo told us once why she thought Eddie was a mediocre goaltender. When everyone was going crazy over the trade because our backup goaltender was not starter material, Jo spits out a list of mathematical theories why Eddie would continue to lose more games than winning them.
I shook my head. It’s just first game nerves.
“No. I don’t want to distract her. I’m sure she’s freaking out,” I say.
