Breakaway (The Rule Book Collection)

by A. M. Johnson

  “Three broken ribs… I swear to God, if we hadn’t won last night, if you took that hit for nothing, I would’ve found Paulsen and took out his knees myself.” Her green eyes flared and her no-nonsense attitude I loved so much cracked my smile. “But I guess annihilation is a much better revenge than assault. Six to one and Bryson made that asshole his target for the rest of the game.”

  I’d been hurt before, but never like this. Paulsen was known for this shit, but the fucker always seemed to make it look like a clean check, otherwise, he’d be suspended by now.

  “I’m sure Bryson will tell me all about it.”

  I hoped, for the sake of my team, they put last night behind them. They needed to stay focused if they wanted a shot at making it to the playoffs.

  She pulled my bag from the closet and shut the door. “The team sends their…” She held up one hand to make quotes. “Love.” I laughed and it rained knives. Fuck, this was going to be a long four weeks. “I assume everything you need to travel is in this bag?” she asked, setting it onto a chair. When I nodded, she laid the yellow envelope on top of it. “The rest of your luggage was shipped overnight back to Tampa. You should be all set to go.” She turned her head to the door. “As soon as that nurse gets her ass in here. I’ll be right back.”

  Kristy’s petite frame disappeared beyond the soft click of my hospital room door. The room went still, and without her whirlwind of a presence I was forced to sit there, listening to the brash silence. And, like the tiny cracks on my ribs, Stevie’s voice infiltrated my thoughts.

  Come back to me…

  I tested my pain tolerance and moved to the side of the bed, letting my feet fall to the floor. It was uncomfortable, but I closed my eyes and let the sting be heard. Pain was a warning, it was tangible and an ever-present reminder that you were still able to feel. I’d rather this pain than the numbness I’d forced upon myself this week.

  My eyes fell to the hospital phone on my bedside table and the craving, the overwhelming need to hear her voice, the plague keeping my mind in knots, pricked at my fingertips, spread up my arms until all I wanted to do was pick up that fucking phone. My cell had been off the whole trip, sealed away in my luggage, and now on its way back to Tampa. I knew her number, it was a fingerprint. But the fear, the anger, even after all that had happened; the insecurity I’d held onto, his hands on her face, his name on her lips, distrust was a muscle memory, and I couldn’t seem to find a way to retrain my heart.

  I glanced back at the door before I picked up the phone and dialed. It rang twice, and my mom’s voice, a kiss to my wounds, sifted through the receiver.

  “How you holding up, kiddo?”

  I was a child again, sitting on the back porch, the summer sun on my face, and my mother’s hand on my scraped knee. My world was toppling down around me, and I wished for that summer day. I wished for it, because back then, I could let it all fall. This brave face, this mask I’d put on every day since I’d left her, was starting to crumble.

  “Really good,” I lied. “I get to go home.”

  “That’s great news.” Her voice carried through the phone as she yelled to my father, “He’s going home!”

  I laughed despite the pain. “Did you let Molly know?”

  “I did, good thing Poppy was sleeping, missed everything.”

  “Thank God.” A piece of relief snapped into place.

  “You sure you’re okay? You must be hurting?”

  “Pain meds.”

  She chuckled. “Another thing to thank God for.”

  Kristy walked into the room with a nurse.

  “Hey, Mom, the nurse walked in, I gotta go, let everyone know I’m alright.”

  “Love you, Mark.”

  “I know.”

  Her warm laugh made me smile.

  “Call me when you get home.”

  My smile faded as the line went dead.

  Home.

  I wasn’t sure where that was anymore.

  “Thanks, Val.” I watched as the doorman set my luggage and gym bag on my living room floor.

  “Not a problem at all, Mr. Carmelo.”

  “It’s Mark, come on now, you know that.” I gave him a crooked grin.

  His eyes swept over my chest, looking for some sign of injury. “That was one hell of a hit.”

  “Nah, nothing but a few broken ribs.”

  “Hope you heal up real fast, we need you on the ice.”

  I handed him a few bills. “I’ll try my best.”

  “Good to see you’re okay.” He smiled and slipped the tip in his pocket, nodding his chin before turning to leave.

  Once the door shut, I turned to face my empty apartment. Remote and unrecognizable. This apartment was a phantom limb, an extension, but not a home. My eyes scanned for a detail that felt familiar, but this place was a shell. My dog wasn’t here, my stuff, my life was neatly folded in the drawers of Stevie’s dresser. Calling her wasn’t a choice anymore, it was an inevitability. Apprehension had a cold sweat prickling at my temples as I moved toward my luggage—my footsteps a vacant echo.

  Bracing myself, I bent over and unzipped my suitcase. I dug through almost ten days’ worth of laundry as I ignored the dulled sensation on my side. It was better than the nausea brewing in my stomach. I found my phone and charger at the bottom of the bag, and as I walked into the kitchen to plug it in, something cold and lonely gripped my spine. Pressing the power button, my phone exploded in my hand, vibrating with all the missed calls, texts, and voice messages.

  I opened the lock screen and the first name I saw was Bryson.

  Bryson: Dude, you better call Stevie. Talked to her this morning, she’s freaking out. Don’t be a dick.

  She’d watched.

  She’d actually watched.

  I clenched my jaw, swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth as I flipped through at least fifty text messages from her. My eyes caught on words like, call me, are you okay, I’m a mess, freaking out, where are you, I’m so sorry. She’d watched and I let her drown in her own panic. Fuck, for how long? I pulled up a voice message from sometime last night and the terror in her voice ruined me. It scratched out my stubborn veins, and kickstarted my heart. She was sobbing, fractured. I deserved every fissure that had found its way across my bones. I listened to the next message, and then the next, each one was reliving the hit from last night, over and over again, but through her eyes. I listened to the last message in horror as my girl came apart at the seams. My hand of silence had picked away each thread.

  “I’m scared… I l-love you so much… and it’s so real it hurts… please… let me hear your voice.”

  Fury seized my throat, clenched my fists at my side. I’d let Mia…. No, I’d done this to Stevie.

  I was responsible.

  She loved me. She loved me and I hadn’t listened.

  The fear of losing her coiled its way around each broken rib. The guilt of what I’d put her through tugged at the reins until I couldn’t fucking breathe, until my legs moved quickly toward the front door regardless of how much it hurt, or how scared I was. I pulled my keys from my pocket, locking the door behind me, and not giving two shits about the no driving rule.

  The throbbing in my side had reached a new level of fucked by the time I got to Stevie’s house, but I welcomed it. I welcomed it because it meant I’d finally found my fight. Her car was parked in the driveway, and my heart was parked in my stomach. I didn’t know how she would feel about me showing up unannounced, but I had to see her, tell her I was sorry, that I loved her, too. So damn much. Mia had taken away my ability to trust, and I’d done the same thing to Stevie. At the first sign of struggle, I’d run away like a goddamn coward.

  Her front windows were open, and I heard Atlas bark as I climbed the two stairs to her front door. The humidity, or maybe the fact I was scared shitless I’d lost her for good, had my palms sweating. I pushed up the sleeves of my shirt, sucked in a breath, letting the fire burn away my nerves and knocked on the door. Atlas
barked again, and I heard the scuttle of paws on wood floor before she finally opened the door.

  She was devastation in the flesh. Her brown eyes were weary and wide, her skin pale. She had her dark hair piled on the top of her head, a few stray pieces had fallen from the knot and kissed the curve of her neck. She was tragically beautiful standing in her doorway. Tears instantly welled in her eyes as she took in my form. Her bottom lip quivered, and I was about to reach out to her, when she flung herself at me. Her arms, warm and perfect, cinched around my ribcage and I flinched.

  “Shit.” She unhooked her arms before I could tell her it didn’t matter. I needed her wrapped around me, no matter how much it hurt.

  Stevie took a step back, and as if she just realized who was standing in her doorway, a sudden flash of anger crossed her eyes. She smacked me in the middle of the chest, and I hissed, the muscle in my jaw working as agony rattled through me.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Her resentment spilled away like the tears down her cheek.

  She was crying, and it was my fault. The sad set of her mouth made me take a step forward. “Can I come in?”

  She wiped under her eyes and stepped to the side. My feet permanent as I walked into her living room, no empty echo—no old ghosts. This house had become a part of me, a part of us. Atlas lingered at my feet, his head down, like he sensed my discomfort. He took tentative steps until his soft fur was under my palm, his hot breath on my fingers.

  “Hey, boy.” I chuckled as he pushed his body against my legs. Stevie’s scent surrounded me and I raised my eyes. Her cheeks were wet and rose and the last piece I’d been missing clicked into place. “I’m—”

  “An idiot,” she interrupted.

  Atlas left my hand cold and walked into the other room.

  “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t good enough, and when she took another step backward, the damage I’d caused barreled down on me. The corners of my eyes stung as I looked at her. She was shaking and all I wanted to do was hold her, show her I wasn’t going anywhere, tell her I fucked up, and I was here to make it right.

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  “I didn’t think you’d watched.”

  She scoffed, her tears coming faster.

  “I-I saw everything.” Her chest was rising and falling faster with each second that went by.

  I chanced a step forward, and when she didn’t immediately move, I stole another inch. I took each inch with grateful steps until her breath was my breath, and her scent found its way back home inside my chest.

  “Your sister called me… then Bryson this morning, but not you.”

  Her wounded eyes fell from mine, and I feared I’d pushed things beyond repair.

  “I shouldn’t have shut you out.” I dared another inch. “I should have called you, talked to you. I should’ve had the balls to tell you I loved you so much it fucking terrified me…” Her eyes, brilliant in amber and swimming in tears, locked onto mine. “I’m sorry, and I know that’s not enough to fix this… it’s not enough, Stevie. I can’t change that I ran away, but I love you enough to know I’ll never do it again.” Her tears soaked the skin of my palm as I held her face. “I saw you with him, and I knew better, but it—”

  “Hurt.” Her throat contracted as my thumbs brushed away the tears from her cheeks.

  I leaned down, letting my nose bury itself in her hair, in her sweet summer scent as I kissed the top of her forehead.

  She gently gripped the fabric of my shirt in her hands, her head fitting under my chin, her cheek to my chest as she whispered through a sob, “You hurt me, too.”

  My body rebelled as I folded my arms around her, but I’d suffer through the pain if it meant I got to pull her closer.

  “Tell me how to fix this…. Tell me what to do.”

  She exhaled a thick breath and leaned back. “This is a good start.”

  A smile gambled its way across my lips. “Yeah?”

  She lightly framed my rib cage with her hands. “I watched you fall… like your body didn’t belong to you anymore. In that second, everything felt so trivial. When you didn’t get up…” Stevie’s eyes shadowed. “It didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t matter as long as you were okay. As long as you came back to me.” Her fingers skated slowly down my ribs to my waist. “I’m mad, Mark, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I love you so…” she stuttered, blinking her wet lashes as she shook her head with a small smile. “So much.”

  I cradled her jaw with my hands, dipping my chin, bringing my mouth close enough her breath poured over my lips. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

  “The biggest.”

  Stevie pressed her hesitant lips to mine and I didn’t miss how they trembled, or how she started to cry as I deepened the kiss. I could taste the salt on her lips as she laced her fingers through my hair, turning this week into static. Her eyes met mine and then dusted down my face, and my jaw. She stepped back, her hands fixed on my hips, her appraisal sliding over my chest, her fingers moving up and feathering under my shirt and over my stomach. My skin shivered beneath her touch as I lifted my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor. The pain subsided, as she traced the giant bruise covering the right side of my rib cage. The tips of her fingers walked softly, exploring. “It wraps around to my back.” I turned slightly and she gasped. I faced her again, hating the worry in her eyes.

  “I’m fine.” My palms rested on her hips as I drew her against my chest, and it was me and Stevie and the rhythm of our hearts. “As long as I have you.”

  Two Years Later

  “Stevie, watch out!” Poppy hollered from the bench.

  It was too late, though, and I chuckled as Stevie took a hit into the boards. If you could really even call getting checked by an eight-year-old a hit.

  Poppy let her face fall into her hand as the opposing team stole the puck from Stevie and made a goal.

  “She’s terrible.”

  I laughed, knocking my shoulder into hers. “Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking smack about.”

  “Your wife is terrible, you should be ashamed. Can you not teach her to keep her head up, she’s always—” My smile spread across my face as I listened to my niece shit talk her aunt. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Maybe I should let you coach.”

  She narrowed her eyes, deciding if I was being funny or serious. “I don’t think this is the time for jokes. Our team is down by four.”

  I clenched my jaw in an attempt to hide the smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Tell you what, I’ll let you pick the teams tomorrow.”

  Her eyes lit up. “That’s a much better idea.” She gave me the side-eye. “I’m benching her.”

  We both turned to look at Stevie at the same time and my heart skipped two full beats. She held her stick with one hand, wobbling like a stack of bricks about to fall, her head was tipped back, and I could tell she was laughing by the way her shoulders shook. Three of the kids from the opposing team were giggling as they pushed and shoved her in an attempt to get the puck she’d trapped between the blades of her skates.

  I blew my whistle as I stood and, when my skates hit the ice, she locked her eyes onto mine. As I got closer, the gorgeous smile on her face soaked her eyes with humor, and I shook my head trying to maintain a serious face, keeping up the front that I wasn’t enjoying this, or that I didn’t love how sexy she looked in all that gear, or how watching her with these kids didn’t fucking light me up inside. I’d tell her all of this later, when we were alone, in our room.

  Some would say a hockey camp for kids wasn’t the best place to go on your honeymoon, and maybe they were right for the most part, but the reassuring scrape of steel on ice, the cool air of the rink, the kids laughter mixed with cheers and shouts were the things that made this place special, had made it a sanctuary for me every summer. And I wanted to share it all with her. She hadn’t been able to make it up last year, and after we’d gotten married last month, we’d both decided to do this together. I might
’ve also promised to take her on a proper honeymoon before I had to report to training camp at the end of the summer. Maybe somewhere tropical or some shit, definitely somewhere we could be alone for an entire week without any distractions.

  Stevie’s voice cut through my wandering thoughts. “What’s the whistle for?”

  She gave me a sly grin as I said, “Delay of game, two minutes in the sin bin for you, Carmelo.”

  Her eyes fell to my mouth. “I’ve gotta get used to that.”

  I skated closer, the rink fading away around me as I placed my hands on her hips. I was grateful she wasn’t wearing a helmet with a full mask as I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her supple lips. The other coaches were probably staring, and I think I heard a few of the kids catcalling, but I didn’t give a shit.

  “Now who’s delaying the game?” She pulled away and I lifted my hand to her face.

  “Two minutes…” I brushed my thumb over the satin skin of her cheek before letting my hand fall to my side as I skated backward slowly. “FYI, Poppy said she might bench you.”

  “Thank God.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I argued.

  “Hey, Coach.” Simon, one of the new six-year-olds, pulled on the hem of my shirt. “Carrick isn’t letting anyone else get the puck.”

  I ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, little man, I’ll make sure everyone gets at least one shot on goal today, alright?”

  He nodded, a small smile on his lips as he skated off.

  I opened the penalty box for Stevie, and the smile on her face hit me right in the chest. She watched me, her eyes filled with something I could feel in every beat of my pulse. “I’m glad we decided to do this.”