Penalty Play

by Lynda Aicher

  “Not cool, dude,” Feeney said, head shaking. “Not cool at all.”

  A brick landed on Henrik’s high, deflating it in a hard slam that pounded his chest. What the fuck did it matter to any of them? He glared at Feeney, more than done with the ass and his constant opinions. “Like it would’ve made a difference to you.”

  “Like you ever gave us the chance,” Feeney countered, his attitude replaced by steely challenge.

  Henrik leaned in, ready to let loose on the man.

  Hauke was there though, in his face, hand on his chest easing him back with little more than a look. “Not here.”

  Shit. The curse repeated in his mind as he took in the people filling his house. Right. Now was not the time or place for any of this.

  “Are you boys going to pay up or weasel out?” Vanessa’s voice broke through the tense silence to crack the hold it held on the group.

  A round of grousing went up as the losers dug into their pockets. Hauke eased Henrik back until he was once again cornered. What the hell was up with him being trapped in corners today? Walters was right there too. And great, Rylie moved in for the final block.

  Henrik grit his teeth and dug deep for the patience his mother had hammered into every one of her children. Grenicks didn’t lose their shit in public—unless he was on the ice. That was the only acceptable place where he could let his aggression and energy out and the sole reason why he’d taken to the sport in the first place.

  His fists ached with the force of his clenched hold, a tension that matched his pulse throbbing in his jaw. His skin was too tight, his blood pounding with the need to let go on something or someone. Both were unacceptable right now.

  He sucked a lungful of air through his nose, sought a calm he was nowhere close to feeling.

  “What’s going on?” Scott’s frown was loaded with concern. “Why are you so mad?”

  Henrik scrubbed his face and bit back his first response, which was actually pure bullshit. What right did he have to be mad at guys who judged him based on what he’d shown them? He’d given them every piece of ammunition they used against him on a daily basis.

  He dropped his hand, jaw loosening. What did he say? He was tired of pretending? He did care what others said about him? He used to think the cutting jokes were enough to feel included? To belong? They had been enough…until recently.

  “We have early practice tomorrow,” Hauke said, sending a look to Rylie. The defenseman had slipped into a leadership role this season that no one questioned. It all had to do with the respect he’d earned with his play and the bond he had with the other players.

  Rylie nodded. “I got it.”

  He moved away, weaving through the guys, nudges and comments being made that Henrik couldn’t hear. But it wasn’t long before his teammates were heading downstairs, grumbles of morning practice and needing to go filtering loudly over the talk.

  Shit. They had his back. Every one of them. Even though they’d obviously been hurt by his secrets.

  Real family or not, his teammates wouldn’t let him go down, even if he was trying hard to sink himself.

  Appreciation clashed with a huge dose of gratitude and guilt to storm up his throat and burn his eyes. His head dropped forward, so fucking heavy suddenly. He dug his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, damning the rollercoaster ride his emotions were on.

  “Hold it together,” Scott urged. “I have no idea what’s wrong, but hold your shit together right now. You have to.”

  The stern words weren’t harsh, just true. They were hounded in to every player the second he got onto a professional team. It didn’t matter what happened, who said or did what, they held their shit together until they hit the locker room. Until the media and prying eyes were gone. Until they were with family who understood, didn’t judge and sure as hell didn’t gossip outside the group.

  It worked too. Henrik straightened almost immediately, emotions banked behind the firm wall of responsibility. He stared at his guests, most of whom appeared to have started the departure routine. He needed to be the host, thank and assist where needed. It was his damn party, and not a fucking pity party for him.

  “Thanks.” He nodded at Walters then Hauke and stepped between them to do his duties. He felt their stares on his back, an unspoken statement that they weren’t done. One or both of them would be on him soon, demanding answers or at least a place to vent.

  Friends. He did have those.

  And a girlfriend—wherever she was.

  “Thanks for coordinating all of this, Mary,” he said to Jacqui’s mother when he reached her, eyes scanning the room for her daughter. “The food was fantastic.”

  “It was nothing,” she said, patting his arm. “And much better than that mass-produced stuff a caterer would’ve brought.” Her wrinkled nose of distaste said exactly what she thought of that. “It’s the least we could do after you opened your house to our tribe.” He chuckled with her, mind winding around the word tribe. A perfect description for the extended Polson family. “We’ll get it cleaned up too.”

  “No need,” he assured her. “I have a crew coming tomorrow to see to that.”

  “Well.” She stiffened, frowning for a second, clearly flustered. “We don’t leave a mess. It doesn’t work like that.”

  He couldn’t resist wrapping her in for a quick hug. “Do what you need, but please,” he said, letting her go, her stunned expression shifting to warmth, “don’t stress about it. You’ve already done too much.”

  He left her before she objected further, understanding it wasn’t in her makeup to expect caterers and a cleaning crew. Things he’d depended on since his youth. Had he ever cleaned his own place? Nope. Never.

  Where’d Jacqui go? He needed her right then. At his side, her silent strength securing him when he was so adrift. Yet she’d caused part of that drifting.

  She’s pulling back. Don’t let her. She’s scared.

  And how in the fucking hell did he stop her? Reassure her? Prove that he was here for her when he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough for her?

  “Henrik,” Jacqui’s father boomed, hand clasping his in a firm hold of belonging. “This was good of you, son.”

  Son. When was the last time—if ever—his own father had said that word with such pride behind it? Not when he’d been offered a scholarship to Harvard. Not when he’d been drafted in the second round. Not when he made the Glaciers’ roster. Not…

  Just not…ever.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Wayne,” he insisted. “I think we’re past the ‘sir’ stuff.”

  For how long? Henrik was accepted right now. Welcomed into the Polson family with barely a hesitation. It was all tenuous though, a thin hold that was slipping through his grasp as he watched, unable to stop it.

  “Right.” Henrik nodded. “I should check downstairs.”

  People were leaving, goodbyes being said in hugs and waves and promises of calls before Thursday’s dinner. Thanksgiving, another big Polson gathering, based on what he’d heard. Henrik wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that they had an away game that night. He’d be thousands of miles east in Boston, skating like any other night.

  Bags and gear were being collected, last drinks guzzled as more departure preparations took place.

  “Thanks, Roller,” Karver called. He was usually pretty quiet and one of the guys who didn’t give Henrik much shit. Was it because he liked him or didn’t? Henrik could never tell.

  Still no Jacqui though. Where is she?

  He was turning to head back upstairs when Vanessa cut off his path with one smooth step. Her usually cool expression was gone though, replaced by something that would be called warm on others, odd on her. Apprehension prickled over his skin as he looked for a dodge or pick, anything that’d get him out of the encounter. Her hand was oddly gentle on his arm when he’d expected a firm hold.

  “You’re changing, Henrik.” The statement didn’t require an answer so he gave none. Just like
he hadn’t the twenty other times in the last two months he’d heard it. “I think for the better. I hope it is for you, because that’s what’s most important.”

  Again, no answer for that. He swallowed, stared down at her dark eyes and waited.

  “Be careful though.”

  His dry laugh was void of humor. “About what?” he couldn’t help but ask. There was so many damn things waiting to fuck him up.

  “All of it.” She shifted in under the pretense of letting someone pass behind her, but she stayed there, too close yet not intimate. “Let me know what I can do. I’m here as your friend too.”

  She waited for his nod of confirmation before walking away. That was it. Direct and stunning once again. His friend? It was a new concept from her, yet he got that she cared.

  He said a few more goodbyes then headed back upstairs, still looking for Jacqui. He froze when he spotted her coming out of his bedroom, full backpack slung over her shoulder. Head down, hair blocking her face.

  She didn’t look up as she wove through the thinning crowd. Her path clearly marked for the front door before she pulled up. Her shoulders heaved, and he was moving to her. Had something else happened? Her chin lifted as he reached her, a thin smile pasted on in false joy.

  “There you are,” she chirped, tone too bright for her expression. “Max called. He’s sick and needs me to cover his shift at the store. I’m sorry about taking off like this, but I owe him. I can’t really say no.”

  She was leaving. He eyed the fullness of her backpack, the cracks in her story. Her departure plan was being put into action.

  His stomach ground around the sick weight of understanding. Running. He sniffed, debated what to say. “Is this about what I said?” I love you. That was all it’d taken. Three words to end their relationship. Fuck.

  Her brows drew down. “What you said?” She shook her head. “No. I have to work. That’s all.”

  The lie strung between them, wrapped in barbed wire and ready to rip him to pieces if he touched it. Hold it together.

  “I’ll see you later then, after work. Right?” He laid out the line of hope even though her path was clear. She wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight, unlike every other night this month when he’d been home.

  Her light touch on his bicep barely penetrated the coldness creeping over him. “I’m really tired after today and we both have early mornings. I think I’m going to crash at home tonight.”

  And takeoff had commenced.

  “I leave tomorrow after our game.” The ice in his veins had attached to his vocal chords, freezing them into a monotone. “I’ll be on the road until Friday.”

  “Damn.” She cringed over what he swore was relief. “That’s right. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.” He scoffed out a laugh, eyes closing to block his hurt. “Me too.”

  “Excuse me, Grenick,” a tall man with a rounding belly and thick glasses under graying hair interrupted. “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality. We had a great time today. I’ll remember that game for a long time.”

  Henrik shook his hand, managed some words of thanks, watched as Jacqui gave the guy a hug before he finally left them alone.

  She shifted, hitched her pack higher. “I need to go.”

  He managed not to sneer at her choice of words. Need to go. Running. So fast she couldn’t wait to get away from him. So much for the slow exit plan.

  “I’ll call, okay?” Her hug was brief, her eyes blinking rapidly when she pulled away. “Good luck in your games.”

  He followed her to the door, wavering on a thin line of anger and absolutely nothing. The motions were all familiar where his response was brand new.

  He helped her with her coat, said another round of goodbyes and thanks as people exited around them. He smiled—tried at least. Shook hands, accepted hugs—whatever it took to hold it together.

  Jacqui waved goodbye at Colin and stepped into the darkness of early evening. He was one step behind her, unable to stop himself. He had her spun around, backed against the brick exterior wall before he thought about it.

  Her lips parted in surprise, eyes going wide in the outside lights. He cupped her face, so many thoughts tearing through him to hammer at his brain, rip at his voice. “I know you’re running,” he finally ground out. Her eyes darkened, shifted, her breath coming faster. His heart raced to catch up, to stop her when it seemed impossible. “What I don’t know is why. Was it the words? Did I move too fast? Give too much? Ask too much? Because you don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to feel the same.”

  Damn. Fucking damn it to hell. That was weak. No woman had ever made him this weak. He was practically begging her to love him, and fuck if he’d do that. He shoved away, dropping his hold with a blistering speed.

  “No. I take that back.” He made an attempt to drill his intent into her with his eyes. “I do need that.” Clarity sank into him with that chilling truth. “I deserve that. I might not be that smart or graceful or, damn, a lot of things. But I deserve to be loved.” He did. And for the first time in possibly his entire life, he believed it. “So run. If that’s what you need to do. Go ahead. I won’t chase you.”

  Screw what her brothers said. This wasn’t his doing and he sure as hell wasn’t going down with a sinking ship.

  She blinked, her eyes shimmering in the light. “It’s not you—”

  “Don’t!” he barked, hand raised as he took another step back. His muscles quivered down his arm, across his shoulder where he clung to his composure. Hold it together. “I know what that means and it’s rarely true.”

  She reached for him, but he edged away. “Henrik.” The plea in her tone almost had him. Almost.

  A car door slammed in the distance, voices drifting through the brisk air to remind him they weren’t alone, despite their seeming solitude.

  He sucked in a cold gulp of air, held it until his lungs ached and released it slowly. She stood stoically before him now, that chin pointed up with that defiant edge he loved. Still so strong in the face of his anger.

  His heart hit a glitch, a giant boulder it tried to stumble around and failed. No matter how pissed he was right then, he couldn’t walk away on those words. Not those.

  “I do love you, Jacqui. More than I thought possible. More than I thought I was capable of. It was you who showed me how to love.” He reached out a tentative hand but jerked it back before he touched her. Her lips compressed, expression otherwise unchanging. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you.”

  He left then. Had to. The door swung open but he didn’t remember pushing it. He closed it behind him, took in the room still buzzing with guests. Too many were standing around with coats on but avoiding his gaze.

  Colin and Finn stepped into his line of sight, expressions of disappointment and understanding holding. So they’d kept the others away, but it hadn’t mattered. She was gone, and he was alone.

  He didn’t owe them an explanation.

  He stepped around them, entered the kitchen and proceeded to help with the cleanup. Another foreign action, but it kept him busy and if it got the people out of there faster, all the better.

  Hold it together. He’d been doing that his whole fucking life. He could manage it for a few more hours.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jacqui stared unseeing through the glass front of the music store, thoughts circling in a loop of worry, guilt and uncertainty, the same holding pattern they’d been on for the last three days. She should be practicing for the school’s holiday performance or studying. Ha. Maybe she should be doing her job.

  She didn’t move though. The store had been empty for the last hour. There weren’t a lot of people needing music supplies on the night before Thanksgiving. All of the Black Friday prep was done, and the signs couldn’t be put out until after the store officially closed.

  She checked the time—one hour left, and then she’d have to go home to a house filled with the scent of food prep for tomorrow and the questioning looks from he
r mother. Even her father had given her more than one arched brow. But Henrik was out of town, which gave her a valid excuse to be home.

  She really needed her own place. And that was a goal to strive for if she didn’t die before she graduated.

  God. She slumped forward, forehead plunking on the glass countertop, the weight of the last week holding her down until she swore she’d suffocate under the pressure.

  She missed Henrik more than she’d expected, yet not really. His parting words had torn her heart out. Somehow it continued to beat though, a dull thud in her chest that kept her moving but not much else.

  But she’d had to do it. Had to leave before he was trapped with her. Her family had no choice, they’d stick with her through another round of cancer because they had to. Henrik didn’t need to be stuck with her, and she couldn’t deal with the guilt of knowing she was holding him back. That he could have—deserved—so much better than to watch her die.

  Which had been confirmed today. The doctor wants more blood work and an additional scan. That only happened when something came back abnormal.

  She shoved up, hair draping around her face in a damning reminder of how far she’d come, how hard she’d fought to get here. She’d only had it trimmed since the last round of chemo, each inch visual proof of her health.

  Or it had been.

  Her Friday appointment would only confirm what she already knew. The additional tests would come back positive. Her oncologist would want an appointment next week to discuss the results, give his next steps and treatment spiel and slowly tear her world apart—again.

  The reminder was all she needed to keep from contacting Henrik, despite what her heart was begging her to do.

  The bell on the door jingled a warning, and she whipped around, smile in place to greet the customer. One that instantly fell away when she spotted Aiden striding toward her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, sis,” he greeted, fake grin plastered on. “It’s great to see you too. Thanks.”