She wasn’t the same person anymore. Grief and the responsibilities of parenthood had tamed once and for all any adventurous streak she might have had. So had coaching a group of women who, for the most part, were a decade or more younger than she was. Spontaneous, she was not. Carefree, no way. She was mature, methodical, a leader. She didn’t take risks or do stupid things like have a fling with her ex-girlfriend. The fact that Eva was anxious to get involved again, well, what did that say about Eva? That she was still a rolling stone with nothing to lose. That she remained somehow stuck in the past, blinded by something that no longer existed. Or by something that could never last. Yeah, that was Eva, looking for the next thrill, this time at Niki’s expense. Well, hell. It wasn’t going to happen. Not this time.
Eva guided her into a narrow cobblestoned alleyway, a shortcut back to the hotel, she explained.
“Eva, look. I was thinking, back at the brewery, I didn’t explain myself ver—”
In one swift move that Niki never saw coming, Eva pushed her up against the brick wall, crushing her body against her. She pressed her mouth to Niki’s, cutting off any further conversation, and kissed her hard, unequivocally, possessively, thoroughly. Niki inserted her hands between them to create space, but Eva was having none of it. She pushed herself harder into Niki, kissed her more deeply, until a warmth, thick as honey, began to roll through Niki’s insides. She shivered again, but not from the cold this time.
The kiss went on, ungluing her from all sense and rational thought. Oh fuck, she thought, silently acknowledging that all the road signs pointed to danger ahead and yet all she could do was press harder on the gas pedal. It’d been so long since she’d felt this kind of animal attraction for someone, been so swamped with desire. The feeling was foreign, like a memory she couldn’t quite bring to the front of her mind, and yet it was the most familiar thing in the world. It was wrong and yet it couldn’t be more right. It was Eva, the first woman she’d ever made love to. Her first love. Her only sexual addiction. When they were young, they couldn’t get enough of one another. Sex in the shower, sex before (and after) breakfast, sex before (and after) dinner, sex at bedtime, sometimes sex in the middle of the night too. One had only to lift an eyebrow in the other’s direction before they were peeling off clothes, grinding into one another or sliding hands, mouths, tongues, between legs, sending one another to the moon and back on wave after wave of orgasm.
Her hands found Eva’s thick hair now, her fingers clutching and tangling themselves there. She pressed her mouth and her body against Eva’s, matching her power, reveling in the familiarity of Eva’s body—the feel of her hard muscles that at the same time easily yielded and molded to her, the smell of her skin and hair (cedarwood and jasmine), the softness of her lips. How, after all these years, could her hunger for Eva ignite so effortlessly? So quickly? So completely? And what did it say about her love for her wife? Was it gone, buried six feet under along with Shannon’s cancer-riddled body? Or had her marriage been a sham to begin with? Why else, it occurred to her, would she be so demolished, so trashed, by her desire for Eva.
The thoughts raced around in her mind like a carnival ride, fighting what her body demanded. Hands, warmer than they should be, reached under her coat and crept up to her breasts, making her gasp and clench her teeth as Eva’s mouth dropped to her throat. Her nipples, goddamn them, tightened painfully, and she reared her head back against the brick wall. She had to take control of this before it was too late.
“No, Eva.” She put her hand to Eva’s chest and pushed her away. “We can’t do this.”
“We don’t have to talk about the future right now. I get that.” Eva’s voice cracked with unspent desire. “We can take it a step at a time. One slow step at a time. I can wait for this, Niki, I promise you I can.”
Still catching her breath, Niki said, “That’s not the message your body is sending. It seems to me like you want it all right now.”
Eva’s grin brought a rush of warmth to Niki’s face. “Of course I want you in my bed. I’ve never stopped wanting you in my bed. And you know I want more, but I also understand why we can’t. At least right now.”
“So what was all…this about?” Niki spread her hands out. “For old time’s sake or something?”
“Dammit, Niki!” Eva ran her hands through her hair. “I wasn’t thinking, okay? I just…I don’t know.” She sagged against the opposite wall, the tension visibly leaking from her body like air from a balloon. “I’ve never stopped loving you. Never stopped wanting you. All those other women…I meant what I said at the rink last night. They weren’t you. And I guess I thought eventually one of them would be like you, but they weren’t. Not even close. You ruined me for anyone else.”
Niki stepped closer. There was a tear on Eva’s cheek, illuminated silver by the soft glow of a streetlamp a dozen yards away. Eva never cried, and seeing that she was doing exactly that knocked the air from Niki’s chest.
“I’m so sorry, Eva.”
Roughly, Eva said, “I just want a chance, Nik. Even if we can’t, if we don’t ever…I need something that gives me a sliver of hope, all right? I want to somehow make things right with you again.”
Niki swallowed. There were too many confusing things tangled up in her mind, in her heart, right now, to even consider having an honest conversation with Eva about where they stood. She needed time. And some distance, because when they were together, her brain went as mushy as the snow beneath her boots.
“Look,” Niki said. “I promise you, you’re not the only one who suffered from our breakup. And I’m not saying never to us, okay? But I am saying not right now.”
Eva straightened, wiped the tear from her cheek. “Well, I guess that’s something, isn’t it?” Her tone had a bite to it, which Niki chose to ignore.
“Walk me back to the hotel?”
“Of course,” Eva said, but she remained silent during the five-minute journey.
“I’ll go in first,” Niki said. “Maybe you could wait a couple more minutes.”
“Fine.”
“Eva, I know you want more, but you’ve got to give me space. Time. I have some things to work out before I move on with anybody. Including you. I’m not there yet, and right now I need to focus all my energy on these damned Games, all right? That part, I know you get.”
Eva nodded soberly. “I guess I’ll see you in Vancouver in a few weeks.”
“You will.”
“Is Rory going to be there?”
Niki’s heart stuttered a beat at the mention of her daughter’s name. She hadn’t forgotten how well Eva and Rory had hit it off in Toronto. On the phone, Rory still asked about Eva. “She’s flying in for the two weeks.”
Eva smiled, and the sadness it failed to veil cracked Niki’s heart. “Good. I’ll see her there too, then.”
Niki took the stairs to her fourth-floor room, glad for the time alone in the echoing, cinder block stairwell so she could clear her mind. She was taking the easy way out with Eva, telling her she needed to concentrate on hockey right now, on getting her shit together, which was true. They both had their priorities, and becoming lovers, or something more, wasn’t—couldn’t—get in the way of those priorities. As for beyond the Games, well, she simply didn’t have the mental or emotional energy to think about that right now.
In the corridor, the sound of loud voices made her stop in front of Lynn’s door. There was shouting, two women going at it, but their words were muffled, impossible to decipher. She hesitated only a moment before rapping sharply on the door. If Lynn was in some kind of trouble, perhaps she could help, or at least break up the yelling match. But as she knocked, the yelling halted. Goddammit, Lynn, open the door. She knocked again, faintly making out some rustling noises in the room, before Lynn finally opened the door.
“Are you okay?” Niki asked. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, why?”
“What do you mean, nothing? I heard yelling, two people arguing, a minute ago.” S
he tried to look past Lynn, but her assistant coach was a big woman.
“I’m the only one here,” Lynn said with a look of bewilderment. “I had the TV on, maybe you heard that?”
It damn well wasn’t a television she heard; it was Lynn arguing with someone. But she couldn’t exactly force her way into the room. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, absolutely. Thanks for checking, though. Goodnight.”
Niki stepped back, more convinced than ever that Lynn was up to her ears in something. But if it was personal, it wasn’t any of her business, just as her own private relationships—her renewed friendship with Eva, for instance—wasn’t any of Lynn’s business. “All right. Goodnight.”
* * *
Eva watched her tape-to-tape pass to Dani bounce off her stick and sail wide into the corner. In frustration she smacked her own stick against the ice and shot a look at Alison, who quickly looked away. Dani was about as focused as a five-year-old kid on a sugar high. It was the third consecutive pass she’d outright missed. Passes that should have been easy to corral.
On the next drill, Dani’s lack of concentration sent the entire line in offside. Once again Alison, who would have had a stroke if it’d been anyone but her precious Dani screwing up, didn’t seem to notice.
Eva skated to Dani and tried to cool her temper before she spoke. The team was supposed to be getting tighter, cleaner at this point, not sloppier. The Olympic Games started in a little less than two weeks, and if her line didn’t get its shit together, the three of them were going to be busted down to the fourth line. “What’s up, Comps? You seem distracted today.”
“I’m fine,” Dani hissed and peeled away.
Great, Eva thought, she won’t even listen to me. Alison was being of absolutely no support. She was so sick of all the drama and bullshit. She didn’t remember it being this emotionally exhausting twelve years ago in Nagano or eight years ago in Salt Lake. Well, okay, maybe it was this bad, but she knew one thing: her patience, her ability to let things roll off her back, had diminished over the years.
She leaned against the boards, watching the next line of forwards execute the power play drill perfectly—the way her own line should have done. A curtain was slowly lifting in her mind, because for the first time she could remember, she could envision a future that didn’t include ever playing competitive hockey again. The picture was a bit gauzy, very much unfocused, but it was there. And it wasn’t entirely because her body was breaking down from all the wear and tear, nor because of all the drama and stress. Mostly it was because her needs, her desires, had begun to shift and change, taking on new shapes. Niki’s reappearance in her life made her see that there was much more to life outside the hockey rink. She’d been stubborn, selfish, too immature to realize it the first time around with Niki. A glory seeker, an adrenaline junkie, that’s what she’d been those years ago. More recently too. But the sun didn’t—couldn’t—stay at high noon all day. And she no longer wanted it to.
Her thoughts drifted to what it would be like coming home to someone at the end of the day, sharing her life with that person—the big things and the little things, the highs and lows and everything in between. Where she didn’t before, she was beginning to understand the appeal of building a life with someone, of becoming something that was bigger than herself. A vision of Rory floated through her mind, and she smiled. What would being a stepmom be like? Especially to a young girl who seemed to click with her, a kindred spirit in a four-foot-nine frame. She could easily imagine herself and Niki teaching hockey skills to Rory, cheering her on at her games. Maybe the two of them even coaching her team. Now that would be a hoot! Rory was—
“Psst! Eva!” Kath waved frantically to her from the gate that led to the locker room.
Eva skated over to her. “What’s up?”
“There’s something you need to see.” From behind her back, she pulled out a copy of the Vancouver Province and held it up for Eva to see.
“Yeah, so?”
Kathleen flipped to the sports pages, pointing to a headline above the fold that read: “Coach Caught in Compromising Position with Rival Player.”
Eva’s face, her whole body, went numb. “Oh, fuck.”
Chapter Eighteen
Checking from Behind
Niki’s BlackBerry buzzed with an incoming call. “Hello?”
“Coach Hartling, this is Jason Danko from The Sports Network. Do you care to comment about the photo in today’s Vancouver Province?”
“Excuse me? What photo?”
The reporter hesitated, cleared his throat like he didn’t want to have to spell things out. “Uh, the picture of you in a hot tub, kissing Eva Caruso.”
“What?” She was walking to her rented car in the rink’s parking lot and couldn’t be sure she’d heard correctly. She adjusted the volume on her phone. “Can you repeat that please?”
He did. Niki’s knees wobbled and she leaned against her car to steady herself. Everything she’d put into her job since early September—the long hours on and off the ice, the punishing travel, the endless meetings, the agonizing over strategies—was quicksand moving and shifting and sinking beneath her feet. Because she knew what this meant. “No, I have nothing to say right now.”
As soon as she ended the call the phone rang again. “Hartling here.”
It was a radio reporter this time, asking the same thing. “No. I have nothing to say at this time.”
She got into her car and started it. She’d been planning to get a bite to eat, but now all she wanted was the sanctuary of her hotel room. A complimentary copy of the paper was stuffed under her door every morning, and earlier today, like every other morning lately, she’d been in a hurry and stepped over it.
Her phone buzzed again. “What?” she barked into it.
“Niki, it’s Dan Smolenski.”
Shit. There went her final shred of doubt that a compromising photo did, in fact, exist. “Guess we need to talk. Are you in town?”
He’d flown in last night, he told her. With the opening of the Games eleven days away, the executives of all the leagues were beginning to arrive in Vancouver. The women’s team had been ensconced in the city for a few days now, getting acclimated to the city and to the rink at GM Place, where they would play their games.
“I’ll book us a conference room at your hotel,” he said, his tone divulging nothing of the shitstorm that was surely coming. “I’ll be there in an hour. Make sure you and Coach O’Reilly are both there.”
Niki’s heart leapt to her throat. How stupid, stupid, stupid of her to have kissed Eva. And in public, no less. A minute, two tops, of reckless, selfish, irresponsible behavior in that damned hot tub. And for that, she, and by extension her team, were going to pay for it with something worse than their blood—their dreams.
She stopped at the nearest convenience store for a newspaper, unwilling to wait for the one sitting in her hotel room. With trembling fingers, she opened the paper to the sports section.
The headline screamed out at her like a wagging finger of condemnation: “Coach Caught in Compromising Position with Rival Player” and the subhead, “Hartling Kisses Up to Team USA—Literally.” Below was a photo, the size of at least a third of the page, showing two women kissing in a hot tub, the caption suggesting it was Niki and Eva getting cozy in a resort hot tub last month in Whistler. The photo was dark, grainy, but the two figures did vaguely—okay, a little more than vaguely—resemble her and Eva. The story, mercifully, was short and little more than speculation from unnamed sources. The only named source was a so-called friend of a player on one of the teams, who said Niki and Eva had once lived together—that wasn’t news—and that rumors suggested they’d rekindled their romance. Another source, an anonymous “insider” with Team USA, squarely fixed the blame on Niki, saying an affair with Eva meant she’d intentionally compromised her team and that her credibility as a coach was damaged beyond repair. The source practically dared Hockey Canada to keep her on the ben
ch.
The shadow of a migraine began to throb as Niki drove back to the hotel, her foot pressing harder on the gas pedal than was wise. The story and photo had to be Alison’s doing. Her record spoke for itself—that she’d stop at nothing to drive a wedge between her and Eva, that she’d do anything to give her team an edge, that she’d be only too happy to destroy and humiliate Niki in the process. And even if Smolenksi didn’t blow things up, she knew that a distraction like this so close to the Games could be catastrophic for her team.
Lynn was already aware of the situation by the time Niki collected her at the hotel. In the elevator to the floor that housed the conference rooms, her assistant coach could hardly look at her.
“I suppose you knew nothing about this until today?” Niki asked carefully.
Lynn concentrated on the ceiling. “Of course not.”
“Are you going to tell me I was reckless? That I was courting danger having anything to do with Eva in Whistler?”
Lynn continued to stare at the ceiling. “Nope.” Her tone implied that she couldn’t be more disinterested.
“It never went beyond what happened in that photo, you know. I’d never put myself, or my team, at greater risk than a stupid, ill-timed kiss.” Niki was more fucking sorry than Lynn or anyone else could ever try to make her feel. And yes, there’d been that dark alley too, but she couldn’t even think about that right now.
Lynn shifted from foot to foot, pressed the elevator button again as if by doing so, it would speed up and she could escape Niki faster. Niki wondered why Lynn hated her so much, what she could have possibly done to offend her so much. And why couldn’t she have her back like a good teammate? She would never expect Lynn to lie for her or cover for her, but couldn’t she show at least a little support?
Delay of Game Page 13
