Anders rubbed his hands forcefully across his face, a deep pressure to chase away the unsettled feeling in his bones. “I don’t think it was what I preferred. I guess it was what I needed to do to protect myself. How do I change it?”
Karl studied Anders for a long moment. “What made you come to this realization? Or should I ask who?”
“Liv.”
Karl chugged his smoothie and placed his glass down on the table. “And are you questioning this because she wants you to change, or because you do?”
Anders shook his head. “Listen, don’t become all amateur psychologist on me. Liv and I, well, we talked about where this was going. I’m not going to share with you what was said. But some things really hit home about the way we’ve both been living our lives to this point. Do I want to change for her? Sure. But do I need to change for me? Most definitely.”
Anders glanced at the clock on his phone. “We need to go get ready for practice.”
They stood at the same time, but Karl shocked the hell out of him by pulling him into a hug. “We’ll figure it out, Anders. I’ve got your back.”
And for the first time in the longest time, Anders believed him.
13
Adrenaline ran through Olivia like a million spiders crawling beneath her skin. It was a continuous itch. In four days, the launch of the rebranded Dyer’s Vintage would go live. Her father’s pride and joy mixed with Jake’s innovative spin, and a retro-style packaging to honor its legacy in the Dyer family. The country music she had playing in the background did little to distract her from the source of her excitement and anxiety.
Olivia stood and straightened the burgundy cashmere sweater Anders had presented her with and smiled. Unlike the red turtleneck he’d given her, this one had a deep V and looked perfect with the gold jewelry she’d added. As she ran her fingers over the soft wool, she could hardly believe it was only five days since their declaration of love in the chalet. He was off to Anaheim that evening, so she’d agreed to meet him for lunch. Wearing the sweater was just an exclamation point on how much she loved him.
The morning had been busy. She’d checked off items on her spreadsheet like a fiend. The retailers involved in the launch had all received their orders, and bottles with the new branding would be shelved over the weekend. The media spend kicked into effect on Monday. Even though she knew everything was set, Olivia had flipped through the social media software she used to sequence all of their posts to make sure the pipeline was full. This week was dedicated to the story of their father, and his personal quest to create the smoothest contemporary gin. It focused on the love affair with her mother, and the distillery’s development. It featured fresh images of the original bottles and labels that had wrapped the gin. She included images of the stills with stories about how their names came about. All the social media and marketing materials were grounded in the notion that family and a passion for great gin is everything.
She was thrilled with the way the campaign looked, how the labels stood out on the shelf. The emergency printer had come through with the labels, and they looked great.
“They look amazing,” Jake said, bounding into her office, just as she was pulling her coat on.
“Don’t they, though? You’ve done an amazing job of breathing life back into Dad’s recipe and finding ways to make enough of it for us to do this.”
Jake shrugged. “All part of getting us back on our feet.”
Jake had been able to nearly double the amount of gin the distillery had been able to produce.
“It was a smart call to promote Stan to head of the bottling process as well as warehouse manager, it gives you more time to focus on the gin. And Sienna was a great promotion too.”
Jake had promoted Sienna to assistant production manager, and they had started a split-shift system. Jake ran Dyer’s Medallion on the main day shift using all three stills, and before he was done for the day, he’d start the Dyer’s Vintage. He’d stay until the head of the gin was cut and made sure it was being produced at the right flavor profile, then he’d leave Sienna to cut the tail when it weakened into the early hours of the morning. It had meant giving Sienna keys to the factory, but the sassy blonde was more than up to the task.
“Yeah, I’ve not tried a bottle in the morning yet that was too weak. She might be cutting off too early, if anything, but I’d rather that than poor-quality product.”
Olivia grimaced. “I love gin as much as anybody, but the idea of tasting the batch just after breakfast makes me feel ill.”
Jake shrugged. “You get used to it. How’s Anders?”
“Anders is good. He had a tough game against Buffalo but felt better about Carolina.”
Jake laughed. “Look at you and me talking hockey. Dad would be impressed.”
She thought about her dad. “It’s hard to believe he’s been gone nine months already. Do you think he’d like Anders?”
Jake nodded. “I think he would. He’d really appreciate the seats, though.”
Now it was Olivia’s turn to laugh. “Anders is not a one-man ticket factory. I’ve told him not to spoil you.”
“Come on. It got Connor out of the house and gave me and him some male bonding time.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “You guys don’t need bonding time. You see each other nearly every freaking day.” She grabbed her purse and phone and headed for the door. “I’m meeting Anders for lunch then working from his place this afternoon once he’s gone. He has a delivery arriving.”
“Cool beans. I’ll see you later.” He gave her a hug and Olivia set off.
Twenty minutes later, she walked toward the restaurant. The sun was shining, and it felt as though it were the first day of spring, even though it was still ten days away. She’d watched the Carolina game with Natalie in the team’s VIP seating. She’d planned to refuse, but then she remembered everything Anders had told her about his conversation with his agent and Karl, and suddenly fitting in seemed like the most important thing to him. It felt like something really small she could do to help him, and she could get to know some of the other wives and girlfriends.
As she reached the windowed front of the restaurant, she saw Anders inside, who waved in acknowledgement.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Olivia Dyer.”
An icy chill trickled its way down Olivia’s spine. She swallowed deeply. God, she knew that voice. Slowly, she turned. “Mr. Harding. This is a violation of your restraining order. You need to leave.” Her words came out with more confidence than she felt.
“Did you know I lost my job? It’s hard to run a security firm with a police record. And Gina left me. You left me with nothing.”
The fact that he looked unkempt compared to his usually smart wardrobe squeezed her heart, feeling some responsibility for him. But then she remembered the bruises he’d left on her arms when he’d found her in the distillery parking lot that morning in July. The menace in his threat that he was going to ruin her. To ruin the distillery. And she’d had no choice but to go to the police.
Did you know I lost my job?
Olivia knew all about him. “I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know. But there wasn’t anything any of us could do about the storm, and there isn’t anything I can do to make this right.”
Harding scoffed. “Make it right? Make it fucking right? I see you and your distillery. I noticed all the protective cladding is coming down, and construction material is piling up, less than a year since my wedding disaster. You’re about to rebuild. Nothing about this mess is permanent for you.”
His tone turned harsh, the glint in his eye, steely.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.”
He stood between her and the door to the restaurant, but she pulled her shoulders back and walked past him.
His hand snaked out and he grabbed her throat, hard.
Olivia clawed at his wrist.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” he growled, pulling her back. “You can go when—”
“Get y
our hands off her,” Anders said, shoving him against the glass front of the restaurant, holding him there by the edges of his jacket.
Olivia hunched over and sucked in big gulps of air. She saw one of the customers seated at the long bench that ran along the window get their phone out to start filming.
“Anders,” she cried, hoarsely. “Don’t.”
Anders looked at her, concern in his eyes, but it gave Harding the opportunity he was looking for and he swung at Olivia. His fist glanced off her cheek and caught Anders firmly in the jaw.
“I said keep your fucking hands off her,” Anders yelled, punching Harding forcefully in the stomach.
Harding lunged forward, catching Anders in his middle, but Anders stood like a mighty, unshakeable . . . iceberg. Cold, calculated, and determined to look after her.
When Harding raised his fists again, Anders wrestled him to the ground.
Olivia pulled her phone out and once she was satisfied the police were on the way, she realized two servers from the restaurant were now holding Harding down as he continued to rant, raging at the destruction her family had caused him.
Tears filled her eyes and she began to shake.
“Hey, Liv. Look at me.” Anders placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her away from Harding. “Are you okay, älskling? Did he hurt you?” He took her chin gently between his finger and thumb and checked her cheek and throat.
“No. I’m . . . he . . . I didn’t . . . oh, god, he hurt you.” Blood trickled from the corner of Anders’s mouth and his knuckles were banged up.
“Don’t worry about me. Who is he? Do you know him?”
Olivia nodded. “He’s the guy whose wedding was cancelled. The first one. God, it was awful. He showed up that morning, yelling and screaming. Dad called the police. He assaulted a police officer. He missed his own wedding. I have a restraining order against him.”
Anders pulled her tightly against his chest. “We can talk about why you didn’t tell me about the restraining order later, but fuck, I wish I’d got another punch or two in. As it is, this will be all over the news by dinner.”
Oh, god. His future contracts, his free agency. “I’m so sorry, Anders. This is going to be a mess for you. You should—”
“Stand here and hold you so we both calm down a little. And then wait with you until the police arrive.”
“But you’ve got to go. You’ve got your flight to Anaheim and your nap and—”
“Stop, Liv. I’m not going anywhere. There’s not a damn thing more important than standing right here next to you. And even if I didn’t want to, let’s say I put the game first and left. I just fought with the guy. I’m pretty sure the police will want to talk to me. So, just shut up and let me hold you. Okay?”
He looked down at her and a wave of love for him so deep it was bottomless washed through her. “I love you,” she whispered.
“And I’m here because I love you.”
Anders’s anger simmered beneath the surface. Like lava, it waited for the moment it could erupt. The Rush had come through for him before he’d even spoken to the police officer. Lenny Sanders, the club’s legal counsel, had been at his side, guiding him through the process. He knew the officers were just doing their jobs taking statements, but in their overly zealous attempts to be neutral, they’d made provocative comments to ensure the authenticity of them. Like suggesting Olivia had overblown Harding’s comments, which were made before people had started recording. Or that Anders had used unnecessary force to apprehend Olivia’s assailant, even though there was video proof that Harding had attacked Liv first.
He watched Olivia as she entered his home and stood in the hallway, as if suddenly out of steam and unable to take a step forward. Initially, she’d been profusely apologetic for the bad publicity he would have to endure. Concerned about the impact the public brawl would have on his contract negotiations. Then she’d become progressively more reserved and focused. She’d called Jake and Emerson and sent them the press release she intended to post on the company website. They’d wanted to rush to her, but Olivia had assured them she was okay. Which she clearly wasn’t.
“Let me take your coat, Liv,” Anders said, reaching for the lapels of her coat.
“You should go and pack,” Olivia replied. “If you go now, you’ll still be ready for the match tomorrow against—”
“I’m not playing tomorrow.”
Olivia’s eyes met his. “What do you mean you aren’t playing? You have to. What about the call with your agent? New York will be concerned if—”
“Liv. Stop.” He didn’t want to tell her why, but he had to. “I’m on the injured list for the game.” He held up his right hand to show her the swelling around the knuckles of three fingers. “I need to go to the training facility to get a scan on it to make sure nothing is broken. But even if they aren’t, I still couldn’t play because I can’t grip a stick properly.”
Olivia walked to the staircase and dropped down to the bottom step. “I’m so sorry, Anders.”
Anders sighed, slipped out of his coat, and crouched in front of her. “Stop saying sorry, Olivia. I mean it. I think you still have some work to do, kämpe. You’ve found a way to trace everything that happens now back to what happened last year, and you can’t carry that guilt around. Remember what we said in the chalet. We’d call each other out when we were living somewhere other than the here and now.”
Olivia gently stroked her thumb across his tender knuckles. “This is directly related to back then, though. I ruined the outcome of Robert Harding’s wedding day. And his frustration, which was justified, got him a criminal record and cost him the future he’d built with a woman he loved.”
Anders raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “But you are forgetting two very important things. The first: The reason he was so angry was because his wedding venue was destroyed by a storm. Not by you, unless you have some omnipotent powers I’m unaware of. The second: He was clearly a hot-tempered individual. Do you think if you and I were getting married and the venue cancelled that morning that I would go and beat the crap out of a police officer? Do you think I’d leave my handprint on the event organizer’s neck eight months later?”
Olivia shook her head. “Of course not.”
“Contrary to what happened today, I don’t particularly like fighting. Not even on the ice. I’ll do it in defense. But I’ll only ever finish what someone else starts. Robert Harding built a rod for his own back when he was unreasonable and came out swinging. Again, that isn’t you. You are not the reason he got arrested and lost his fiancée. He was. Was it awful for him? Sure. But it’s not like anybody died.”
Color faded from Olivia’s face. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered, before racing to the small bathroom off the hallway.
Anders’s chest squeezed with the agony he’d seen etched in Olivia’s features. He stood, grabbed a bottle of water for her, and hurried after her. Ignoring the sound of retching, he pushed the door open and crouched behind her. Gently, he pulled her hair from around her face and then rubbed her back. “You’re scaring me, älskling. Take a deep breath and try to calm yourself, if you can.”
The sobs and heaving slowed and Anders eased himself on the floor, pulling Olivia onto his lap. He reached for the toilet paper, pulling off way more than he needed, and cleaned up Olivia’s face. Her eyes were ringed with red, her coloring sallow.
He cracked the water bottle open and handed it to her, encouraging her to sip it slowly.
“You said nobody died . . . but I think I contributed to my dad’s heart attack,” she whispered.
Of all the things he’d thought she would say, that wasn’t it. “What do you mean?”
“When Dad died, I’d been in bed for two weeks. Hadn’t even showered. Dad had insisted I move in with him, and I gave up my downtown apartment. I know he was worried. He was worried about the lost revenue from the events hall, and he was worried about me. I also know now, but didn’t at the time, that he a
lready knew that we didn’t have the insurance for the building, because I hadn’t filled the forms out properly. I know I didn’t destroy the building, Anders. But the stress that came after was all due to me.”
Anders tightened his arms around her, holding her close. He began to understand the weight of the guilt she was carrying. The burden must feel enormous. And while it was easy to say trite things like her father probably didn’t blame her, it felt too dismissive of the pain she carried. “Did you talk to your therapist about this at the time?”
Olivia shook her head. “There’s more, Anders.”
When her voice cracked, his chest squeezed so hard for her he could barely breathe. He nudged her chin up so he could look straight at her. “Tell me.”
“Harding’s stalking became obsessive and the majority of it was online. But, then it became personal. I shut down my own social media profiles and turned off comments for the distillery’s social media. Acts of vandalism at the distillery, not enough to cause major damage, but inconvenient. Graffiti. Broken windows, but never ones in range of the external security cameras. We knew Harding owned a security company and would likely be aware of those blind spots, so we could never prove it was him.”
Olivia took a deep breath and then laid her head on Anders’s shoulder. He released his hold on her a little and held her hand. Her palm was cool and damp.
“One Saturday in the middle of July, I realized there was a whole bunch of stuff in my office that I had to hand off. Half-finished projects that I needed to send to Emerson to finish, that kind of thing. I decided to go to the distillery, but I didn’t want to see anyone, so I went super early, while it was still dark. When I got there, Harding was in the parking lot. I didn’t know until I was out of the car and halfway toward the building.”
Love In Moments: An opposites attract hockey romance (Love Distilled Book 2) Page 19
