“Everyone in the Blades bench was standing up, craning to see what had happened. And when I turned, there was my little brother sprawled out on his stomach on the ice, not moving at all. Still. Deathly still. I dropped my stick and gloves and moved. I don’t think I’ve ever skated so fast or so slowly in my life.
“It took forever to get over there, and I was screaming his name. People grabbed me, held me back. I remember them yelling, ‘Don’t touch him! You can’t move him!’ but at the time, the words meant nothing. I just wanted to get to him. I just wanted him to wake up.”
The tremble in his voice stole her breath.
“Then there were team doctors, and ambulance crews and spine boards. And they took him away, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to help him. He’s my little brother, Holly. I was supposed to protect him!”
Luke scrubbed his hands over his face and she could feel his struggle to pull himself together. With a sigh, he sat straight and tall on the hard wooden bench, eyes still glassy with the old pain. She doubted he knew there were tears streaming down his face.
“It was the worst fucking moment of my life. And it haunts me every single day. It’s always there. And it makes me feel like an asshole. Because if that’s how it feels for me, I can’t even imagine how much worse it is for him.”
Holly knew the chain of events, of course. She’d watched the career-ending hit. And the aftermath. But hearing Luke tell his story, to actually see his pain, still so close to the surface, it made her heart bleed.
And all she could do in that moment, high in the dimly lit bleachers of the chilly, small-town arena, was put her head on his shoulder and cry with him.
11
HOLLY STOOD AT the counter of her father’s kitchen, dicing onions, while Luke Maguire chopped peppers. It was like playing a surreal version of house, and Holly had to remind herself that the domesticity was just an illusion. After their trip to Millerville, they’d both wanted to continue seeing each other. But they agreed on very clear rules for their dalliance. Just sex, no commitments. Still, the lines kept getting blurred.
Like how he’d dropped her off at home at four o’clock, and by six she was on her way to his place, with only a quick stop to drop off her niece’s newly signed Team USA jersey to slow her down.
Like how she’d spent the next two days at his fancy condo with him, having sex and watching movies and eating takeout.
Or how it had taken everything she had to keep her standing Tuesday night dinner date with her father and leave Luke behind. But when she told Luke why she was leaving, he’d volunteered to come with her.
Things were getting very complicated.
“Do you know what I enjoy about this?” He gestured back and forth between them with the knife.
Holly raised an eyebrow. “About the fact that I have boobs and you don’t? I could take a wild guess.”
Luke winced with annoyance. He was so easy to bait. “No. And keep your voice down. We’re at your dad’s house.”
He was adorable, she decided. “Yeah, but he’s not here,” Holly reminded him, glancing at her watch. 6:20. He always ate at 6:30 on the dot. Where on earth is he?
“Besides,” she added, “what else am I supposed to guess with you waving that blade around at chest height?”
“I was gesturing to signify us.” He lowered his voice. “Our illicit affair.”
“What do you like about us?” she asked, ignoring the way her heart stuttered at the topic.
“That we don’t talk hockey.”
She hoped her face didn’t give away her disappointment at that answer. “Oh?” She turned back to the onions, dumping them into the pan on the stove. They sizzled as they hit the hot oil, releasing their fragrance almost immediately.
“Everyone in my life wants to talk about hockey. About Ethan. About the Storm. My thoughts on our last game. My thoughts on our next game. My thoughts on games I’m not even part of. Sometimes it feels like I don’t talk about anything else. It’s actually kind of a relief that you don’t care about it.”
Holly added the peppers Luke had cut to the pan, as well as the bag of stir-fry veggies she’d left in her dad’s fridge last week.
She knew he meant it as a good thing. He was trying to say he was comfortable with her, and it was a lovely sentiment. But it made her gut hurt. Because that thing that he liked about her? It wasn’t her at all. She was dying to debate hockey with him. Ask him his thoughts on all those things he was tired of talking about and share hers.
She gave the veggies a halfhearted stir, forcing a smile when he stepped up behind her and kissed her neck. “I’m glad,” she lied.
And it reminded her that their entire relationship was based on lie after lie. Luke might be comfortable with this woman who didn’t exist, but it was Holly’s real heart on the line.
There was a big commotion at the front door and while it was right on time, it was much too big to be just her father.
Holly groaned inwardly. Her brother and niece must’ve decided to come over for stir-fry. Karen was probably working a stretch of nights at the hospital, and Neil was a notoriously lazy cook when his wife wasn’t around to supervise.
Holly’s suspicion was confirmed a moment later when a hungry eight-year-old girl came rushing into the kitchen. “Smells good, Auntie. Dad and I were going to have McDonald’s but...” Melissa trailed off, eyes round as hockey pucks as she started to hyperventilate. “You’re Luke Maguire. Ohmygosh, you’re Luke Maguire!” By the end of the sentence, Melissa’s voice was so high-pitched only dogs could hear her.
Holly laughed. “Breathe, monkey.”
“Dad, Luke Maguire is at Grandpa’s house! Are you staying for dinner, Mr. Maguire?”
Luke nodded. “That’s the plan.”
“That is so awesome! Your brother is my favorite player of all time. No offense.”
“None taken,” Luke assured her.
“Aunt Holly got my Team USA jersey signed by him. How cool is that?”
“She did?” Luke’s raised brow held questions she didn’t want to answer.
“Luke, will you sign my hat? Aunt Holly, is there a marker around here so I can get my hat signed?”
Saved by the autograph seeker. Holly rooted through the junk drawer as Melissa flitted around like a butterfly drunk on excitement. “My team’s in the play-offs, too, you know. Just like yours.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. And we’re gonna win, too. Dad! Luke Maguire is in Grandpa’s kitchen. He’s gonna sign my hat. Dad?” Melissa disappeared back into the living room in search of Neil.
Thank you, she mouthed at Luke, tossing him the marker she’d found. He caught it easily, but he waved off her appreciation like it was no big deal. Considering he’d finished explaining to her how much he’d been enjoying his hockey reprieve, she found his kindness toward her niece even more touching.
“So that’s why you went to see Ethan before we left. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, you know,” she said, nudging the drawer shut with her hip. “I was worried your fragile ego might not be able to handle that Melissa’s heart belongs to your brother.”
Luke made a halfhearted effort at a laugh, but his preoccupation was obvious. “He actually signed it, though?”
“Yeah. He signed it.”
The relief on Luke’s face was heartbreaking.
“I’m really sorry about all this craziness. I understand that you were trying to escape hockey. I didn’t realize it was going to be a full house.”
Whatever Luke was about to say was cut off as Melissa marched back into the kitchen, pulling her dad along by the wrist.
“Nice try, monkey. You expect me to believe a hockey superstar is hanging out in Grandpa’s kitchen and...”
“Told you.” Meli
ssa pulled off her ball cap and handed it to the hockey superstar hanging out in the kitchen.
Holly suppressed a laugh as her brother lost all ability to speak. His complexion, every bit as fair as her own, flamed red as he recognized their guest.
“Neil, meet Luke. Luke, this is my older brother, Neil.”
“Hi. Wow. Hi.”
Luke grinned as he signed Melissa’s hat and handed it back to her. “Nice to meet you, Neil.”
“You, too. Wow. Just...wow. Why didn’t you warn me, Hols?”
“Or me,” added her father. “When you said you were bringing someone home for dinner, this was definitely not who I was expecting,” her father said gruffly, extending a hand. “Frank Evans. It’s a pleasure to have you in my home.”
Luke shifted the marker to his left hand so he could return the handshake. “Thank you for having me, sir.”
“Okay, dinner’s almost ready. How about everyone who just got home goes and washes their hands so they can help set the table.”
“The table?” her father scoffed. “The first game of the Buffalo-Wisconsin series is on TV right now and you want us to eat at the table?”
Holly shook her head in defeat. “Why do I even bother?”
* * *
TEN MINUTES LATER, Holly was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between Luke and her brother, with Melissa on the floor at Luke’s feet. Pop, as always, was comfortably ensconced in his recliner. All of them were enjoying heaping bowls of teriyaki chicken stir-fry.
The first period featured some pretty intense hockey, and her family was in fine form, heckling the refs and players alike, hypothesizing the trades they’d make if they ruled the hockey world.
“Hey, Luke?”
He grinned down at the star-struck girl at his feet, and Holly hated her traitorous heart for noticing how good he was with her.
“Hey, Melissa?”
“Um, remember the time you scored that goal against the Wyoming Stallions back on October seventeenth? You stole the puck from Alfredsson at the blue line and then you skated so fast and scored right through the five-hole? And the goalie was just lying there ’cause he couldn’t even believe it?”
Luke chuckled at the description. “I have a vague memory of that, yes.”
“I was at that game,” Melissa told him. “It was awesome. Aunt Holly took me for my birthday.”
Oh my God. As if her “I don’t speak hockey” cover wasn’t tenuous enough before the last few hours. Now a witness had placed her at the scene of the crime. Holly jumped to her feet. “Okay. I think that’s enough hockey talk for today. Who wants dessert?”
The answer was a unanimous yes. When Luke tried to help her gather up the supper dishes, she shook her head firmly. “I got it,” she said, hurrying into the kitchen.
Thankfully, her family was too caught up in the on-ice battle to notice Holly’s odd behavior. Luke, however, followed her into the kitchen before she’d even finished unwrapping the store-bought brownies.
“You sure you’re okay? You seem a little distracted tonight.”
She reached into the cupboard to grab a stack of napkins. “It’s fine.” She tried to smile. “I just feel badly for you. You were saying earlier how nice it was not to talk hockey every moment.”
“Sure, but that?” He thumbed in the direction of the living room. “That brings back memories. Yelling at the television, armchair coaching and that instant connection you can have, even with a stranger, as long as he’s wearing the same jersey as you. I’d forgotten how great the game could be from this side of the boards. It’s a lot different than watching game tape.”
Holly was touched by his kindness. He was trying to fit in and put her family at ease.
He stepped closer to her and his hands came to rest on the small of her back. “But somehow, I don’t actually believe that’s the reason you’re so distant tonight.”
“Oh no? What, are you a mind reader now?” she joked, resting her hands on his chest.
“Maybe I am. Are you thinking of the number...four?”
She shook her head, not understanding. “Four?”
“It’s numerology,” he said. Holly had to forcibly remind herself to breathe during the pause that followed. “If you add up all the letters in Vancouver, you get four. Not nine, like you said. Not nine, like Jay’s birthday. Four.”
Uh-oh. That was not an auspicious start to the conversation. Dread seeped through her stomach lining, and the stir-fry soured in her belly. “You’ve known for that long?”
“I did the math that night, when I got home.”
Busted. On the bright side, it was probably the nicest way she’d ever been called a liar.
“I told you the day we met that I was on to you. Hockey is not a sport for the weakhearted. You’re either all in, or all out. And I had a hunch you were all in. But now... I just wanted you to know that I know. You don’t have to pretend with me anymore. Okay?”
Holly nodded. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
He leaned in and the kiss was sweet and filled with relief. It was nice to be assured that she didn’t have to hide that part of her around him anymore. That some part of what they had was based in truth.
“Great. So let’s go watch some hockey.” He grabbed the plastic tray of brownies and stack of napkins she’d set on the counter.
Her phone rang, and she recognized the name of one of her freelance clients, Sports Nation, on the caller ID. “Right behind you. I just have to take this first.”
“More brownies for me, I guess,” Luke joked, heading back into the living room.
She was smiling when she answered the phone.
“Holly? It’s John Marshall from Sports Nation.”
“Hey, John.” That was odd. He was the senior editor at one of the biggest blogs she wrote for. Except for the day he’d called to offer her the freelance job, he usually stuck to email, and even then his messages tended to come through lackeys. “I’m just waiting for the final buzzer so I can finish up tonight’s game wrap-up. Should have it to you within the hour.”
“That’s great, Holly, but it’s not why I’m calling. I actually wanted to talk to you about publishing one of your op-ed pieces.”
Holly’s heart revved, thudding against her rib cage. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Don’t play coy with me,” John joked. “Every second week, you submit an article about something going on in the world of sports and beg me for a byline. I’m finally going to give you what you want.”
“Oh my God! John, that’s amazing. Seriously. I couldn’t be happier.” Holly was practically bouncing. This was a big deal. She couldn’t wait to tell her dad.
“Which article finally convinced you? The one about the evolution of goaltending equipment? No, it’s my analysis on the new hybrid icing rule, isn’t it?”
“Actually, it’s neither. Those were solid pieces, but I could publish them any time, interchangeably. There’s no oomph to them. The one that really impressed me is not only provocative and well-argued but incredibly timely. It’s the perfect storm of sports articles.”
“Don’t leave me in suspense! Which article are you...”
Oh no. Holly’s shoulders hunched even as all her muscles braced for bad news. He doesn’t mean...
“How Luke Maguire Is Hurting His Team.”
Holly’s stomach bottomed out.
“It’s fantastic, Holly. Obviously, I’ll have to update it a bit since you wrote it at the beginning of the play-offs—his scoreless streak has hit sixteen games now—but all in all, it’s got huge potential for our site. If it does as well as I think it will, who knows? I’m always on the lookout for insightful staff writers.”
The line between dream and nightmare blurred. She’d been sending in articles for two years without a word from John, a
nd the minute she got hired by the Portland Storm, the minute she and Luke were, well, whatever they were, this happened? She’d written that article two months ago. Before the Women’s Hockey Network had even existed.
“You can’t publish it, John.”
“Yes, I can, Holly. The submission guidelines clearly state that once you send it in, I own it. And I will publish this article—”
She didn’t have time for legalese right now. “Fine. Publish it, but I need you to pull my name off it.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve been begging me for a byline since the day I hired you.”
“John. The article is yours, but no names, okay?”
“I guess we can go with Anonymous. Might give the article more legs if everyone is speculating about who wrote it.”
Great.
“You’re sure about this, Holly? Sports Nation is a major player. Being published with us tends to help careers.”
Holly’s fingers migrated subconsciously to her lips. Lips that had just kissed the mouth of a man she cared for more deeply than she’d ever expected to. There was no choice.
“I’m sure.”
* * *
STANDING OUTSIDE THE Storm’s dressing room with the puck set to drop in about two hours, Holly knew she’d made the right decision.
She’d been concerned about Luke, first and foremost. She hadn’t even thought about this job in the moment. That meant something. Something big. Something much too complicated to dissect right now.
But as she stood with Jay and the rest of the scrum, waiting for pregame access to the dressing room, she realized she was having fun. Sometime in the last month, she’d come to really enjoy this joke network of hers. Publishing with another company would have voided this contract, and she wasn’t quite ready to do that.
The doors finally opened, and she stood back, letting the rest of the reporters head in. She had a good relationship with all the players on the team now, so she never wanted for interviews. Even the big names would carve out a little time to tell her whether they preferred dogs or cats.
Playing to Win Page 13
