Fighting against Gravity: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 3)

by Isabella Cassazza

  “Hey, little guy.” I smile at him, while he keeps up the eye rubbing.

  “Not lil.” He brushes his chin against my shirt and rubs his nose on me. Three weeks ago, I would have freaked out about snot or other fluids on my shirt. Not anymore, not since I’ve cleaned his butt after a number two. Not since I was in real danger of being peed on.

  “No, you’re not little anymore, Johnny. You slept without your night diaper.” Ellie ruffles his hair.

  The little guy wiggles again on top of me while I’m holding my breath. All this talk about diapers and not peeing on me is making me nervous. Who says he has control over his bodily functions in his half-asleep state? The last thing we need right now is for an accident to happen in the wake-up phase.

  “Come on. Let’s go to the bathroom.” I hold him tight and sit up.

  “Will you be all right?” Ellie asks.

  “Sure. The little guy here is learning to take care of himself now.” Johnny pushes his fist against my chest and drops down from me, leaving me empty and cold. I’m still not over how warm the little guy is.

  “Not lil.” The moment his feet are in contact with the ground, he stomps his foot. Twice.

  I chuckle. He won’t take shit from me. Just like his mom. “Come on, big guy. Let’s take care of business.” As it is, I need to use the bathroom myself.

  After we’re done, he runs down the hallway in front of me. I curse my limb for being unable to keep up with him. I make a mental note to find a new physical therapist today. It’s been on my agenda for too long already.

  My road to some kind of recovery will be long and bumpy, but I want to know how far I can take it again. As it is, the muscles in my back ache from a night on the couch and my knee is stiffer than ever before. But it was all worth it. I want the little guy to like me—not only because of Ellie. I don’t want him to leave here thinking of me as a monster. I want us to be friends. For him to think of me as a play buddy.

  After making sure Johnny is occupied with his toys and far away from potential danger, I shuffle into the kitchen area where I set up everything we need for breakfast—not that there is much to do. Sergei keeps the kitchen organized, and he has prepared everything to perfection.

  Tomorrow I’ll try to make pancakes again, but for today the only thing left for me to do is to make coffee, put Johnny’s and Ellie’s porridge in the microwave, and warm up my scrambled eggs.

  Who would have thought I could be so… homey? This exploring new options thing is more fun than I thought it would be. Having a kid around isn’t that bad either. I’ve already experienced the worst with the butt wiping, haven’t I?

  “Mitel is ve’y tood readin’ tino tarts.” Johnny abandons his toys and runs to the table once Ellie’s back from her trip to the bathroom.

  “It’s ‘good.’ And it’s ‘cards,’ Johnny. But I’m here for you anytime, little guy.” My eyes meet Ellie’s over the rim of my coffee cup once she’s sat down at the table. I could be wrong, but I think hers are shining suspiciously this morning.

  “Not lil,” he grumbles but nods. Then he climbs on his chair and pushes his spoon into his porridge with so much enthusiasm that most of the yellow mush splatters over the table.

  “Johnny.” Ellie is about to reach for her crutches, but I’m faster.

  “I’ll get it.” My mom would be proud of me right now.

  She sighs. “Thank you. Could you bring tissues as well?”

  I return with the box and a towel, grab Johnny’s hands and clean the food splatters from him and his T-shirt. His fingers are sticky, but I couldn’t care less.

  “Tanks.” He looks at his shirt. Then back at me.

  “You’re welcome.” The crooked smile he gives me is worth dealing with his mess.

  I’m not sure when it happened, but the little guy has wormed his way into my heart. One dino card at a time.

  Chapter 17

  Ellie

  “You loot preet’, Mommy.”

  “I look pretty?” I ask. Johnny nods. Twice. “Thank you, pumpkin.”

  “Aren’t you a darling.” The hairdresser claps her hands. “Now, what do you think? Should we make you look good too?”

  Before I can protest, Johnny nods twice again. That’s a first. He hates it when I cut his hair. But I’m not a fancy hairdresser who can even make my unruly curls look like I’m a hair model.

  I accept my crutches from Lucy and get up from the chair while she swipes away what little of my hair she cut. It joins Michael’s in a neat pile on the side of the living area.

  One would think I’m living a queen’s life right now. Michael insisted he needed his hair done this morning. Two hours later Lucy showed up with her mobile hair salon.

  Half an hour later, not a single hair on Michael’s head looked out of place. An hour later she had styled mine into glossy perfection too.

  “Mommy to.” My son meets my eyes in the mirror in front of him while Lucy puts a towel around his neck.

  “You want me to go?” I hold his gaze and raise an eyebrow.

  He nods. Once.

  I chuckle. “Okay, pumpkin.” I then turn to Lucy. “I’ll be in the guest room if you need me. Just holler.”

  “We’ll be fine.” She gives me a reassuring smile. “Now, Johnny. How should I cut your hair?”

  “Tool,” my son says in a way too serious voice while I take a few steps away from them. Who knows if he needs my support? He’s never been to a hairdresser.

  Lucy chuckles while her fingers trail through what I know is silky soft nearly three-year-old hair. “I can do that.”

  “Mommy to,” Johnny insists again when he catches me lingering in the hallway.

  I shake my head but do as told. My son knows what he wants. And what he doesn’t. He always has.

  “Wow,” Michael says when I pass his bedroom. “Where are you going, pretty lady?”

  I smile. I can’t help it. Butterflies instantly throw a pop-up party in my stomach because of his compliment.

  Michael can’t help it either. He’s a charmer. But only if he wants to be one.

  “I’ve been thrown out. Johnny wants Lucy all to himself.” I pause in the doorway and admire the view. Who knows when I next can take my fill of his impressive pecs? I’ll have to keep my eyes under control once my sister and her husband arrive in an hour.

  Michael winks. “She’s a gem. I’m sure he’ll like his new haircut.”

  I sigh. “You’re spoiling him. You’re spoiling us. And you shouldn’t. I—”

  “Shh.” He closes the distance between us and places a finger over my mouth. “I needed my hair cut. And—”

  I tilt my head to one side. “You didn’t. There was practically none of your hair on the floor.”

  He chooses to ignore me and checks himself out in the mirror at the end of the room. “I don’t like when my hair is out of place.”

  I use the mirror to stare right into his eyes. “Michael…”

  He sighs. “All right, I didn’t need my hair cut. But…” He closes his eyes for a second. “Ellie, I don’t want to insult you. I really don’t.” He turns around and places a hand on my shoulder. “But… do you know what it’s like to be made fun of because you have a bowl-cut?”

  I shake my head slowly. “I don’t think Johnny was ever made fun of because of his hair.”

  His eyebrows shoot up until they nearly meet his hairline. “How can you be sure about that?”

  I bite my lip. “Um… he never said so.”

  “I never told my mom I was mocked because of my haircut.”

  I gasp. “You were bullied? When? I mean… I don’t understand.”

  He takes a step away from me and plops on his bed. “My parents couldn’t afford a lot. Practically everything they earned went into private skating lessons and hockey equipment, so my mom cut my hair. I’m sure she gave it her best, but… kids can be cruel.”

  I sit down beside him. “I—”

  “Let’s not talk about it anymore. N
essy and your sister will be here soon. I need to get dressed.”

  When I open my mouth again, Michael silences me with a kiss. A deep one. A lingering one, accompanied by his hand on my breast. And on my neck. And….

  My heart slams against my ribcage and I pant when he pulls away.

  “Sorry.” He grins. A boyish grin. A cheeky one.

  I shake my head. Then I risk a glance in the bedroom mirror. Great, I’m flushed all over my body. My sister will see right through me. I meant to keep my… whatever Michael and I have from her. But it’ll be difficult with the way my lips are swollen now.

  “Just wait until tonight, boy toy. I’ll tease you until you’re begging me to stop,” I say with a wink.

  “I can’t wait,” he yells after me, but I’m already out of the room.

  While I change my outfit, I can’t help but wish it was nighttime already too.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Daphne is on me the minute the men and kids head outside to kick a ball around.

  I lower myself beside her on the couch and place the crutches next to me. “I didn’t want to ruin your honeymoon.”

  She sighs. “Ellie—”

  I place one hand over hers. “We were fine. Sandra is taking care of the shop until my cast is removed.”

  She sighs again. “How come you even know Michael King?”

  “I… uh… I was supposed to redecorate his house. He was at the shop when I broke my leg.”

  Two lines appear on her forehead. “I’m sorry, but… not to offend you, the décor in your shop doesn’t exactly fit in here.” She motions around while she speaks.

  “Michael wanted a… warmer look.” Even to my own ears, I sound lame.

  Daphne straightens her back and folds her hands in her lap. “It’s still hard to believe that someone like him would frequent your shop.”

  I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean? And just so you know, I’ve done some redecorating for Emilia Ravelli and Tyler Wolfe.”

  My sister’s eyebrows shoot up. “How come you never told me about that?”

  “I couldn’t. My clients value their privacy. You can’t tell anyone. They come to my shop because no one bothers them there.”

  Daphne reaches for the cup in front of her and takes a sip of coffee, eyeing me the whole time. Why do I feel like a schoolgirl right now? “Alright so he was at your shop when you broke your leg, but that doesn’t explain why you’re staying at his house. Don’t you know this man is a well-known womanizer and a party boy? Are you sure you want Johnny to be around him?”

  Why does she know so much about Michael? I should read more gossip blogs. How come she judges him though she doesn’t know him in person?

  “Not everything in the media is true. Michael has changed. He isn’t a party boy anymore. I couldn’t have climbed the stairs and…” My eyes find the subject of this conversation outside. He watches the others play with a grim expression on his face. And his knuckles on the cane are paper white. Nessy and the kids kick and chase a soccer ball through the yard. He’s left out.

  My heart goes out to him. I was the one no one wanted on their team when we played softball in school. I wanted to be like the others. To belong. Seeing him like this rips a deep wound into my chest.

  “Ellie. Hey, where did you go?” Daphne waves her hand in front of my face.

  “Sorry. About Michael. He offered his help and I accepted.” I reach for the crutches and push up from the couch, presenting my sister with my back.

  “Are you sleeping with him?” Her voice rings in my ears like a fire alarm.

  I freeze in place. Then my eyes fly back to her. “Uh…” Shit, I knew she’d see right through me, but I still don’t know what to say to her.

  Daphne sighs again. “Look, I know it’s none of my business. You look great with your hair done this way. But… Ellie. He’s… um.” She presses her lips together.

  Too good-looking for you, I finish her sentence in my head. “You don’t have to say it. I know it won’t last. Now, let’s join the others.” I walk out of the door as fast as possible. Away from her questions and prying eyes.

  “You’re handling these crutches really well now, Ellie,” Nessy says once I’ve reached the group.

  I smile. “Thank you. A little practice is all I needed.”

  He chuckles. “Good to hear. And the leg is healing?”

  I nod. “Everything looks good. Once the cast if off, it’ll be brand new.” My gaze finds Michael as I say the words. He flinches.

  “Daddy, Daddy. You have to be the goalie now,” Freddy screams just when Nessy opens his mouth. He shrugs apologetically and runs to the kids.

  “Did you wreck poor Patrick? How many goals did you each shoot?” Nessy asks once he’s reached the kids.

  “Tree.” Johnny doesn’t give the others the chance to answer but jumps three times in place to emphasize his words. “An’ F’edie sot for. An’… an’ Wiwie two.”

  “Wow. Good job, everyone. So, whose turn is it?”

  “Mee,” my son screams at the top of his lungs. He’s having the time of his life.

  I close the distance between Michael and me while Johnny places the ball right in front of their makeshift goal between two trees and readies himself to shoot.

  Michael’s knuckles have turned from paper white to lifeless looking. I don’t have to ask him whether he’s alright. I know he isn’t. With one hand, I brush slightly against his side. But he keeps his eyes on Johnny.

  The little guy doesn’t disappoint. Or Nessy makes sure he doesn’t. He shoots a goal.

  “Mommy. Dit…” Johnny races over to us and gulps down air. “Dit you zee. I sot a toal.” His little arms fly all around his body, and his eyes are wide open while he talks.

  “Sure, we—” Johnny spins around and races back to take his place behind Vivi before I can finish my sentence.

  I brush against Michael’s side again. He holds himself rigid while his eyes are glued to the goal. Vivi has no problem shooting the ball past her dad in the imaginary net either. Freddy scores next.

  Nessy high-fives the kids and motions for Patrick to play goalie again. While my brother-in-law squats down between the trees and claps his hands, Nessy strides over to us again.

  “Good thing you aren’t a goalie.” I jump in place when Michael’s voice hits my eardrums.

  Nessy laughs out loud. “Good thing indeed. Something’s wrong with these guys. Must be all that bending and stretching.” He chuckles some more.

  “Yeah,” Michael says, but his expression remains serious.

  Nessy scratches his neck. “You know—”

  “Mommy. Mommy. I sot… I sot anoter toal.” Johnny races around us like a tornado.

  “I saw. Johnny, slow down.” I shake my head. His level of energy still fascinates me.

  My son stops right in front of me and I reach out my hand as much as the crutches allow me to stroke his hair. But he ducks under my touch. Then he uses his fingers to fix his hair again. Hair I never even touched.

  Oh boy. I better add a visit to the hairdresser to my monthly budget. Michael was right. Johnny hated his haircut. I’m a terrible mom.

  “Do you want to be a soccer player, Johnny?” Michael asks out of nowhere again.

  “Ho’tey payer,” Johnny says, looking straight into my eyes.

  “You want to be a hockey player?” I gasp. How much does hockey gear cost? Didn’t Michael just say his parents spent all their money on extra training and equipment? I’ve only let him watch short clips on my laptop when Michael wasn’t around since our trip to the Ice Tigers’ headquarters, but Johnny always asks for more whenever we’re alone. I already suspected that he had found a new obsession when even the dino cards couldn’t distract him, but hearing him say it out loud makes it real. Too real.

  Johnny bites his lip and nods. A little crinkle appears on his forehead. He is dead serious.

  “You liked our locker room, didn’t you?” Nessy laughs.

  “So, to
ol.” Johnny waves his hands in a big circle around himself. My son is priceless.

  While Michael had a mental breakdown, he made his career choice. How did I ever end up in this craziness?

  Nessy looks at Michael. “He sat in your place. Here, I took a photo.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and swipes over the screen. “Here we go. Your name is still there. None of the new guys got your number.”

  Michael’s hand trembles as he accepts the phone from his former teammate. I wish I could touch his back and comfort him, but my crutches and my sister’s prying eyes make that impossible.

  “You should come over. Join us after training or a game for a beer.”

  “Yeah.” Michael stands up straighter, but his eyes remain on the screen.

  Nessy winks. “We miss our team diva. The shower doesn’t smell fancy anymore.”

  Michael grips the phone tighter, then hands it back. “Sure. I need to use the bathroom. Be right back.”

  I stare after him. He shouldn’t be alone right now, but what kind of excuse could I give the others for why I hobble-run after him?

  “Who’s ready for a little soccer game? The kids and Nessy against Patrick and me,” my sister asks.

  “You can be the referee, Ellie.”

  “Sure,” I say without any enthusiasm. My attention isn’t on the game but on the closed patio door, willing it to open again. But it remains shut all through the game.

  Two hours later, our guests are finally ready to leave. I can’t say I’m sorry we’re about to be alone again. I feel as drained as Michael looks right now. He’s joined us again once we returned inside to eat and drink something, but he hasn’t said more than yes and no.

  Johnny is yawning with his mouth wide open. The little one will be out in no time. And I can finally talk to Michael.

  When I hug my sister goodbye, she whispers in my ear. “I don’t want to see you hurt again. Remember, I was there when Steven left you. Please don’t make me go through that again.”

  “I won’t,” I whisper back. But I wonder the moment the words leave my mouth if I can keep this particular promise.