Penalty Play

by Lynda Aicher

  “And my daughter,” her dad added, his serious tone offset by his smile.

  “I’ll kiss them if she doesn’t want to,” Maureen offered, which got another round of laughs.

  Damn it. She didn’t want the flash of jealousy that nailed her at the thought of another woman kissing Henrik’s bruises. Or the worry that’d set in on if he was really okay and if there was another woman waiting to comfort him.

  She managed a smile for the expecting faces and somehow didn’t crack in front of the twenty-five people who were squeezed into her uncle’s basement. The hockey game had followed football, which had followed the noontime meal. Another day filled with family that had been both torturous and soothing.

  Would this be her last Thanksgiving?

  She jumped to her feet, needing to flee before the swelling emotions got too big to contain. “Anyone need a beer?” she asked, finding an excuse for her departure.

  A couple of hands went up, and she charged up the stairs before questions could follow. Sure, the downstairs fridge was full of beer, but no one called her on it before she reached the top of the steps.

  She stopped in the kitchen, heart racing too fast. Another group of people were hunkered down in the family room. Kids’ laughter filtered in from a bedroom, but for now, the kitchen was empty.

  That lasted a whole five seconds until Colin stepped out of the stairwell. Great. At least it wasn’t Aiden. He’d hovered at her side the entire day until he’d had to leave for work. She’d guiltily cheered his early departure, but the look on Colin’s face suggested Aiden had handed the hover-baton off before he’d left.

  “You okay?” Colin asked, bracing his bottom on the counter next to her.

  Would people ever quit asking her that? “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well—” he shrugged in a casual but not way, “—maybe because you dumped Henrik on Sunday, told no one and everyone’s been raving about him all day while you pretend you’re still dating.”

  Her stomach twisted around the persistent pain even as a relieved laugh escaped her lips. God. Did her brothers miss anything? “How do you know I broke up with him?”

  “By the look on his face when he came inside on Sunday.” He raised his brows and gave another shrug. “He didn’t need to say a word. The devastation was clear for the brief moment he allowed the pain to show.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed, willing herself to let go of the image Colin had created. But she’d seen it herself on Henrik before he’d turned away. It’d haunted her dreams and hammered at her heart in a relentless attack manifested by her growing guilt.

  Was she doing the right thing?

  “Any chance you want to talk about it?” Colin ventured.

  Had Aiden said something to him? Shared their conversation last night after she’d sworn him to secrecy? It wouldn’t be the first time.

  She eyed Colin, assessed his expression and open-ended question, and decided Aiden hadn’t blabbed about her cancer fears. Colin was being supportive without pushing or judging and that was so like him.

  She leaned into his side, tilting her head to rest it on his shoulder. “Not really,” she said, her head and heart too full to parse out words without purging everything she kept trapped inside.

  “Any chance you need to talk about it?”

  She huffed a laugh. “Probably.” She was sure there was a therapist somewhere who’d have a field day with the messed-up logic in her head. Yet she’d stopped seeing one of those after her five-year all-clear checkpoint.

  His arm came around her shoulders to hug her closer. “He seems like a solid guy.”

  “He is,” she agreed, going with his gentle prodding.

  “Different than what I’d expected.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He treats you well, right?”

  She thought of all the things Henrik had done for her, the gifts she’d rejected and the tenderness he’d bestowed on her. “Very.”

  “Don’t tell me he sucked in bed.”

  “Colin.” She jabbed her elbow into his side, stifling her laugh. “That wasn’t an issue.”

  He chuckled with her before going quiet again. “So what happened?”

  What happened? She fell in love, got scared and pushed him away for his own good. “What if my cancer comes back?” She whispered the fear. After a day of churning through everything she’d purged with Aiden, her angry certainty had been replaced with questioning doubts.

  “What if it doesn’t?” He hugged her tighter, cheek resting on her head. “You can’t live your life fearing its return.”

  “And I can’t knowingly dump that dark cloud on somebody else.”

  “What if he wants it? Did you ever think of that?”

  “Right.” His prodding question was ludicrous to her. “Who would ever want to live with that hanging over them?”

  He edged her around until she faced him, hands on each arm holding her firmly in place when the urge to run hit her again. She stared at his chest to avoid looking at him, dreading whatever logic he was going to dump on her. Colin was always good for that. Clear, logical thinking that balanced Finn’s impetuousness.

  He dipped down to intercept her stare, his goofy grin pulling one from her. “Jerk,” she mumbled, lifting her chin so he could straighten.

  A seriousness dropped over his face, his eyes communicating his love and concern. “Someone who loves you, that’s who,” he finally answered.

  Sure enough, his words swiped the floor out from under her. She swallowed to fight back the instant flood of burning tears. “But it’s not fair to him.”

  “And cutting him out of your life without giving him a choice isn’t fair to either of you.”

  “Would you do it?” she challenged. “Stay with a girl even though she had a death sentence attached to her?”

  “Love is a gamble we have no control over.” His smile was soft and packed with more of that logical understanding. “If I’m ever lucky enough to find a woman I love with all my heart, then I wouldn’t care how long I had with her as long as I enjoyed every second I did have.” He bopped her nose with the tip of his finger, a teasing half smile forming. “Besides, you could get hit by a car tomorrow and be dead. Or him. The odds of that happening are higher than you getting cancer again. In that aspect, we all come with a death sentence.”

  “It’s not the same,” she protested, having played and rejected that logic herself.

  “Isn’t it?”

  Not in her mind, or it hadn’t been before. But now, with her heart hurting more than the pain in her stomach, she wasn’t so certain. Could she handle loving Henrik, knowing it was another huge weight she’d be taking on when the diagnosis came back?

  She’d sworn for so long that she’d never do that to other people. Never pull them in only to play the “I’m dying” card. She couldn’t stand to watch what it’d do to them. Especially to Henrik now that she knew how deeply he’d been hurt by his sister’s death. And still another part of her didn’t know if she could handle him leaving because she was dying.

  It was stupid and messed up and so damn confusing when it’d been absolutely clear before.

  More and more the question she found herself asking was could she handle another round of cancer without Henrik there to love her?

  And lastly, most importantly, was she strong enough to find out?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Henrik awoke at the ass-crack of dawn to the familiar aches and twinges that went with playing hockey. The bruise on his side was tender when he rolled over and he hissed at the stiff resistance in his knuckles when he tried to stretch his fingers. Fucking fight.

  He rubbed his eyes, groaning into his palm as the last twenty-four hours rushed back to smack him once again. He’d slept like crap after getting home in the early hours of the morning and he had a lot of shit to deal with today. Things he was ready to admit and finally tackle.

  He forced himself to get out of bed, knowing he wouldn’t sleep anymore.
But not before he buried his nose in Jacqui’s pillow, a habit he’d formed when she’d been sleeping there. He imagined he could still catch her scent even though the sheets had been changed.

  Today he would track her down. Talk to her and let her know what he wanted. He hadn’t really done that, especially since the recent decisions he’d made about his life and future.

  That reminded him of the shit he needed to do, which included calling his agent and Vanessa. Two calls he didn’t want to make. He expected both of them to try and convince him to change his mind. He wouldn’t though. With or without Jacqui in his life, his mind was set.

  He slipped on flannel pajama pants, tugged on a T-shirt and trudged to the kitchen. Coffee was priority number one. Food number two.

  Steaming mug in hand, he migrated to the living room to land before the large windows and woodland view displayed beyond. The barren winter trees provided a desolate yet equally beautiful image. It didn’t captivate him today. The silence did though.

  He stood there and let it surround him. Quiet. Peace.

  He’d never appreciated it like he did right then. Gone was the itchy sensation that would’ve had him bounding out of the house to head for the gym or rink or anywhere people were. He’d been hiding behind the noise his entire life, cloaking his insecurities in the presence of others so he didn’t have to look too deeply at himself.

  At what he really wanted when he thought he couldn’t have it.

  He turned around to stare across the room at the grand piano, his nemesis and love. He smiled, laughing silently at his thoughts. How could an inanimate object be those things? It was just a piano. Graceful and beautiful, steeped in history and memories, but still just a piano.

  He set his coffee down and crossed to it, strides sure if slow.

  It wasn’t the piano itself he’d hated, but what it represented. The things he’d lost and let go. A part of him had died with Emma, followed a few months later by the death of his grandmother. That quickly, the only family he’d thought had loved him had been gone.

  And it’d hurt too damn much to play anymore.

  He ran his fingers over the curved edge, heart clenching and releasing. With one long breath, he let the pain go. Released his guilt and let it float away. He had no doubt they’d both come back, but he could handle it now, repeat this process and let it go again and again until it didn’t hurt so much.

  He lifted the fallboard then took a seat on the bench. His hands trembled when he rested them on the keys. The memories rushed back to swamp him, but this time they were comforting instead of bitter. Soothing as the emotions filled his chest and a sense of coming home settled over him.

  He flexed his fingers, knuckles protesting, but he ignored the flash of pain. The red, swollen joints were a visual reminder of where he’d stalled for so long. He was ready to move on though, ready to find the man he wanted to be.

  The first notes were soft, a tentative venture into his past. The chords were random and he closed his eyes to experience the clear sound as it lifted around him. This was noise, beautiful freeing music created by him. Given to the world by him—even if he was the only one there to hear it.

  This was his gift. His true joy.

  He inhaled, breathing deeply as he opened his eyes and ran a quick scale up the length of the keyboard. Not a note missed or rhythm broken, despite how out of practice he was. He could almost feel his grandmother and Emma beaming down at him.

  Fifteen years and countless hours of practice came back to him in hitches and stumbles when he picked out the notes of one of his old favorites, a piece he’d always loved to play. Eventually his muscle memory kicked in, the layers of dust falling off after years of disuse. His skills were still there, even if they were rusty. More than skating, music was a part of his identity, only he’d ignored and smothered it for so very long.

  Now it wove around and reached in to claim every part of him. The hurt and rejection, the loneliness and confusion, the years of hiding and settling instead of going after what he really wanted. What he deserved. What everyone deserved—happiness.

  Pure and simple, he wanted to find it again. Live in it. Be it.

  The music continued to flow from beneath his fingers, the songs increasing in difficulty the more his memory kicked in and he let go. He played for his mother, who’d sacrificed, settled and lived life from a distance. And for his grandmother, who’d wisely given him music to fill the void of love he’d craved so badly. And for Emma, who’d followed him on her search for love through false acceptance. And for Jacqui, who showed him a version of love and family he’d never dreamed he could have.

  But mostly he played for himself. For the boy who’d never really fit in and had tried only enough to be accepted. And for the man who finally understood it all.

  He got lost in the notes and rhythm, the music taking him to that place where he flew. Where nothing else mattered and no worries were present. This was true peace.

  This was joy.

  He wanted to keep it. Wanted to capture it and hold it safe so he’d never forget what it felt like again. He’d let Jacqui slip away like he’d done with his music, and this right here, right now, solidified his plans for the future.

  There was no way he was letting Jacqui fade from his life until he’d done everything he could to show her exactly how much she meant to him.

  He’d have to make that call to his agent soon, but right now, he simply played.

  *

  Jacqui stood on Henrik’s doorstep in the breaking dawn light, huddled in her winter coat and frozen to the spot. Partly by fear and partly by the beautiful music flowing through the closed door. Muted but still clear, the piano notes were rich and pure. She’d never heard him listen to piano music outside of her own playing and it sounded live, not filtered through speakers.

  And she was stalling. Looking for excuses to put off what she needed to do.

  Wanted to do.

  Even if it scared her shitless.

  With one last deep breath that chilled her lungs, she pressed the doorbell. The deep bong rang inside, the piano music stopping instantly. Was it him playing the piano? Or was someone else there playing? Had he replaced her already? His reputation and history flew through her mind and had her turning away. There was no way she’d make a fool of herself like this.

  Pain wrenched her heart, choked her throat with more regrets. She’d shoved him away. It was her fault. What had she expected? He couldn’t wait five days?

  When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you.

  Right. She stopped, pulse thumping in her temple. He wouldn’t replace her that quickly. Not the Henrik she knew. The one she loved.

  She blinked back the tears that rushed up and retraced her steps. She’d just made it to the scrolled doormat when the door swung open, a sleep-rumpled Henrik behind it.

  God. Her heart lurched, a great big lunge in her chest that stole her breath. He looked so damn good. Hair sticking up on one side, jaw darkened lightly with beard stubble, cheeks flushed red and those perfect lips of his parted in surprise.

  “Jacqui?” The hesitation was in his voice, along with uncertainty and what she wanted to believe was hope.

  She managed a wan smile. “Hi, Henrik.” Her smile wavered when he snapped his mouth closed but she forged on. “I know I’m really early, but can I come in?”

  He shook himself. “Of course.” He stepped back, gesturing her inside.

  It shamed her but she still did a quick sweep of the room checking for another woman. There wasn’t one, and the masculine scent of him was all she caught when she inhaled. No feminine perfume or—God forbid—sex.

  He helped her remove her coat, his touch lingering on her shoulder to send a wave of longing straight to her heart. She almost fell into his arms right then, but she managed to resist. Managed to step away and hold her own until he finished hanging her coat in the closet. There was that precise courteousness that’d gotten her from the very beginning.

  He tu
rned back to her, lips lifted in a smile that was free of doubts and hesitation. And there was the love she’d walked away from. It shone in his eyes and rushed from his relaxed posture.

  “I’m glad you came.” The love poured from his voice, warm and relieved. “I was going to find you today.”

  She didn’t resist this time. Couldn’t no matter how much she should. Three steps and she was in his arms, holding tight with her face pressed to his chest.

  “I’m so sorry.” The words poured out in a rush of relief and more regrets. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I was protecting myself. Afraid of what you wanted and—”

  “Shh,” he soothed, cupping her face to lift it. “It’s okay.”

  She was shaking her head before he finished. “No it’s not. I should’ve talked to you, not run. I should’ve explained and—”

  His kiss cut her off this time, her rambling diatribe swallowed in the heat of his lips and press of his tongue. She melted into it immediately, hungrily taking everything he was giving. Her chest swelled with her love and the truth of how close she’d come to losing this. Him. Everything they could be because of what might come.

  And that was what they needed to talk about. What he could still run from. Especially after his sister. Why would he want to deal with another person he loved dying?

  She eased away, breath heavy with dreams and fears and what might not be. He rested his forehead on hers, chest rising and falling beneath her palm. She let his presence sink into her, pulled strength from him when she wanted to cower behind the doubts like she’d done for so many years.

  “I love you, Henrik.” She lifted her head so she could see his expression and him hers. She ran her fingers down his jaw, the stubble scratching over the tips. Her hand shook, nerves jittering through her system to affect her voice. “I know it’s not safe and I’m a high risk, but my heart won’t listen to any of the reasons I had for letting you go.”

  He clasped her hand, eyes closing as he held his lips to her knuckles. The bright green of his eyes stole her breath when he opened them. “Thank God your heart is smarter than your head.”