by Joanne Rock
“I’ve got a couple of ladies looking for you.” The man hitched at pants that were a size too big for his thin frame. “Marissa someone or other. You know her?”
“Yes.” He swiped off the surgical paper and sat up too fast, his jaw throbbing harder. “Where is she?”
“Just outside the main entrance to the visitors’ locker room,” the old-timer answered, adjusting the visor of his uniform cap. “We caught a lucky break stopping your goal at the end, son. You clinched your division, but Pittsburgh is still scrapping for every extra point to nab a wildcard slot.”
Standing, Kyle thanked the medical staff and left the smell of antiseptic to move into the hallway with the security guard.
“Didn’t feel like a lucky break when your goon nearly took my arm off with that hack before the hooking call.” Kyle understood an occasional hit. What had ticked him off was that the blow to the stick hit his wrist, as well. A wrist injury at this point could finish his season.
“He’s a rough one,” the guard admitted as he led Kyle past the visiting team offices toward the exit. “But your enforcer got a few licks in tonight, too. Did you see the hip check Rankin gave number ten after you went in the box? Your brother can rumble with the best of ’em.”
“Gotta have someone watching my back.” Kyle grinned before he remembered the stitches and promptly straightened his face. “Damn, that’s sore.”
The older man chuckled as he tugged open the locker room double doors. “Good luck in the play-offs, son. Your lady friend is right out here.”
Kyle’s eyes landed on Marissa. Her arms were folded and a stiff, square purse dangled from her arm on a chain strap. Her low heels and Capri pants looked like something Marilyn Monroe would have worn on the weekends. Marissa’s white blouse sported a Phantoms pin on one pocket, the small nod to his team all the sweeter since he’d bet she wouldn’t normally wear fan paraphernalia.
He warmed inside just looking at her. And not just because of the attraction. He liked having her here, knowing that someone cared if he got a few teeth knocked out or needed stitches. In a family full of brothers, you learned to toughen up in a hurry, because the TLC quota was limited. Feeling that tenderness from Marissa had been nice.
How could he convince her to stay?
“Marissa.” He wanted to wrap her in his arms, but he remembered he hadn’t showered and he wasn’t sure what her reaction would be. He still wore hockey shorts and pads on his legs, but someone had helped strip off his jersey before he’d gone in to get his face sewn up.
And while she’d seen him when he’d been half-naked and sweating before, the circumstances had been very, very different.
“Ahem.” Near Marissa, someone cleared her throat. Kyle looked to see a pretty blonde with wide blue eyes that matched all the blue Phantoms gear she wore, right down to a knitted scarf flung around her neck. “I’ll just leave you two alone.”
Kyle nodded to the mystery woman as she walked away, surprised he hadn’t even noticed her standing there at first. Marissa had stolen his focus in a big way.
“Are you okay?” Marissa stepped closer, her eyes on his injury and her face so pale he wondered if the sight of blood bothered her.
“It’s nothing,” he assured her. “The hits look worse than they are.”
She blinked up at him, some of the color returning to her cheeks.
“It’s never healthy to have your head snapped back to that degree.” She reached up to cup his face by the temples, carefully avoiding his jaw. “Did they do a concussion test?”
He realized she was staring intently at his pupils and he guessed she was taking a test of her own.
“Marissa, I’m fine.” He took her hands in his, freeing her from any nursing obligations. “My brothers hit harder than that wimp Wolfson. Why don’t I go clean up and I’ll meet you in the team lounge? You and your friend can grab something to eat while you wait.”
He didn’t mention anything about finding her a flight home, just in case she’d changed her mind. Just in case he could pull out a last-minute miracle—the ultimate play for a guy who was known for competing until the last second.
She nodded stiffly, agreed too readily, when he could tell by her body language that she was upset.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, unable to go back and party with his team when Marissa seemed so distant. “Is it your mom? Is everything okay back home?”
“Her condition is the same. She starts the new treatment tomorrow thanks to you. We’ll be okay.” As he clutched the chain of her purse strap as if it was a lifeline, her white knuckles told him a different story.
Damn it. She still wanted to leave. He could feel it in the tension between them.
“Then what is it? Something’s wrong and I can’t go back in there and pretend to be thrilled about a play-off spot when I know you’re upset.” Seeing one of his teammates come tearing out into the hallway with a bottle of champagne in hand, Kyle grabbed Marissa’s hand and tugged her into an empty office behind them.
He closed the door before they were spotted, shutting them into a cramped ten-by-ten room with a desk, chair and a landline. It seemed no one on the Phantoms had claimed the space for the night, as the desk was free of paperwork.
“What are you doing?” Marissa’s violet eyes searched his from behind her tortoiseshell glasses. “You should celebrate your big victory.”
She carefully avoided a bag full of new pucks that looked like promo items for a future giveaway day at the arena.
“It doesn’t feel like a victory.” He should be thrilled. Shaking champagne all over Axel’s head until the big Finn gave in and drank a few drops. “I feel like my team just got shut out. Like I’m on the verge of the biggest loss yet. Why is that?”
A relationship was new ground for him, but he wanted a win with Marissa, too.
He cleared away the big, old-fashioned telephone on the aluminum desk, took a seat on the surface and pulled her between his legs. He wanted to be able to look her in the eye.
“This isn’t a good time—”
“There’s nothing more important to me right now than you.” He cupped her shoulders, absorbed the feel of her through her cotton blouse. “Is it the fight? I don’t usually get ticked off like that, but the guy hacked at my shooting wrist.”
“It’s not just that,” she admitted, though her wording suggested the fight played a role. “I guess I’m struggling with being a backstage presence again. Seeing you get hurt tonight made me realize I could go right back to being a caretaker, the practical detail person who helps someone else achieve their dreams without ever discovering my own.”
Honestly, the blow from Wolfson hadn’t been nearly as out-of-the-blue as this one was. Kyle thought he might have reeled a little more from it, too.
“I don’t need a caretaker.” Where the hell had she ever gotten that idea? The desk beneath him squeaked as he leaned forward to impress his point, his hands running down the length of her arms. “I’ve been on the road on my own since my college career—”
“You’re right. That’s not the best word.” She set her boxy purse on the table beside him, not seeming to mind the sweaty smell of him. “But whether you want someone on the road to care for you or not, I already do. I care. And I can’t invest all of myself in that kind of relationship without a mutual commitment.”
“And I want to make one.” He squeezed her hands in his, more certain than ever that he needed to be with her.
That got her attention. She practically did a double take.
“Excuse me?” Her soft words were half drowned out by the din in the locker room next door. Guys hooting and hollering, banging lockers and generally going nuts over a big victory.
“I want to commit to you, Marissa. I want a relationship.” It was a big-as-hell step for him. A grown-up step. But all the reasons he hadn’t wanted a relationship in the past didn’t apply with her. “You’re not some fly-by-night girlfriend who’s going to get lonely while I’m on the ro
ad and mess around behind my back. You care about the same things I do. You’re loyal. Traditional. Hell, I think your job alone qualifies you as a romantic. And I love that.”
Her lower lip dropped, shock rounding her mouth in a silent response.
“We have something special here,” he pressed. “You know it. Let’s not overthink it before it even gets off the ground, okay? Why not take a chance and see how amazing we can be together?”
13
ANY OTHER WOMAN WOULD be turning cartwheels. She should be turning cartwheels.
Marissa remembered Kyle had dismissed the idea of a relationship out of hand just days ago. And now, he wanted to make a commitment to her. But no matter what he wanted, the practical side of her couldn’t envision how it could ever work.
“I am a romantic,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to ignore all the obvious problems in the hope of a few months of fun and passion. I won’t tilt at windmills, no matter how much I would like things to work between us.”
Next door, his team burst into some kind of cheer for the coach, toasting him and practically shaking the walls with male shouts and laughter. In the office, the sweat cooled on Kyle’s bare chest, his strong, delectable body only a small facet of what attracted her to him. She probably should have turned and run when she’d been too speechless to order her drink that first night they’d met.
Yet she couldn’t find it in her heart to regret the time they’d spent together since then.
He looked at her now with dawning realization in his eyes. She hadn’t given him the answer he’d hoped for, and she could almost see him closing off from her. Shutting down. His hands slid from hers. A part of her wanted to take back her words and simply enjoy whatever time she could have with him.
“May I ask what you think the obvious problems are?” His voice sounded like a stranger’s and she felt her heart crack down the center.
She was going to lose him.
“Your commitment is to hockey,” she reminded him, knowing the sport would always come first for him until he won the trophy he wanted so badly. “Mine is to my mother, at least until she recovers. We’ve known that all along.”
“Are you honestly asking me to give up hockey to make a commitment to you?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “I know better than that. I wouldn’t expect you to walk away from the game any more than you’d want me to leave my mom to recover on her own.”
She braced herself, waiting for his reply. And her heart broke a little more when he said nothing. A brief, accepting nod was his only response.
Her knees felt liquid and shaky. Her heart raced and she worried she’d do something humiliating like sob her eyes out if she stayed there any longer. So, darting forward for one last kiss on his cheek, she tried not to think about all she was giving up. All she would be leaving behind.
“I’m sorry,” she said, picking up her purse before she walked out of the office and out of his life.
* * *
KYLE PLAYED THE WORST game of his career in Tampa two days later. Then, after a crappy couple of days back in Philadelphia, he’d played an even worse game against Ottawa to end the regular season. The Phantoms were headed to the play-offs, but he was playing like garbage.
Now, a week after he and Marissa had said goodbye, he fumed silently on the flight home from Ottawa. He jammed his headphones on his ears—the big-ass, noise cancelling kind—and cranked up the tunes, determined not to talk to anyone on the team’s late flight back to Philadelphia. He’d taken a seat in the last row, keeping his bag beside him to advertise that he didn’t want company.
The game hadn’t been as important since they’d already secured the play-off spot. At this point, they were playing for higher seeding and the benefit of home-ice advantage in the upcoming weeks. So the games still mattered. And Kyle had choked.
He’d missed a breakaway shot—no excuse of a hooking penalty this time. Missed a pass from Ax that should have been a clear-cut assist. His crap level of play was bringing down his brother, his coach, his whole team.
Of course, this was all because of Marissa. She had him so turned around he couldn’t begin to know what had gone wrong there. She’d said that relationships—caring too much—messed with her perspective. He’d brushed off that comment at the time, not giving it much weight. But her refusal to see room for a compromise sure felt like a wrong-headed perspective to him. Why couldn’t they find some middle ground—with her need to be with her mom and his desire to have her with him? He’d given ground by agreeing to make a commitment to her. What about her? Still, feeling “right” didn’t soothe the hole in his gut that had been burning ever since she’d left.
A shift in the seat beside him made him open his eyes and glare at whoever had intruded in his personal space. Ax. No surprise there. When had the Finn ever respected a boundary?
Pissed and in no mood to talk about it, Kyle kept his earphones in place.
Of course, that just resulted in Axel yanking the things off, letting them drop down to Kyle’s neck.
“What gives?” Ax asked without prelude.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re playing like you have a boulder on your back and you’re sending off a vibe like you’ll kill the next teammate who asks you about it.” Axel glared, the U-shaped scar on his face an angry red line. “That girl you liked. The one who wore the wedding ring. Did she end up married, after all?”
Cursing the bold and unapologetic nosiness of family, Kyle kept the music on so he could at least play the drum solo on his knees. Too bad it wasn’t the same with the music wafting up from the earphones now ringing his neck.
“Marissa. And no, she’s not married. She just doesn’t want to be with me. End of story.”
“The end of the bullshit version, maybe. Why don’t you tell me the real one?”
A flight attendant came around with a meal, a welcome bonus of the team plane since commercial flights would just as soon starve their customers. Seated on the aisle, Ax got trays for both of them while the younger guys tossed a beach ball around the seats up front.
Kyle would probably knock the thing into the next century if it came his way. He was in that kind of mood. Instead, he concentrated on his salmon, forking it down in record time.
“Okay, let me guess,” Axel said finally, when no information was forthcoming. “You hit a snag and trotted out the line about no relationships during the play-offs. She thought it was bogus and wanted a relationship, so she walked.”
“I would have been in better shape if I’d stuck to my guns about no relationships during the play-offs.” Maybe he could have simply seen her around town when the team played at home. Taken her out for dinner or back to his place.
Except she didn’t want any part of a half-ass commitment, and she wouldn’t compromise enough to really make a full-blown relationship work.
“You wanted a relationship?” Ax asked, zeroing in on the heart of the matter in no time.
But then, they’d been friends since they were old enough to date. They’d both faced the same problem of investing everything into a demanding sport, which didn’t leave much time for developing meaningful relationships. Just look at how many guys on the team struggled with divorce. It wasn’t a lifestyle many women would sign on for.
“I was open to it,” Kyle replied cautiously, knowing this interrogation wasn’t going to end until he told Ax enough to satisfy him.
“And she wasn’t?” Axel’s fork fell from his fingers as he peered over at Kyle and snapped off the iPod still blaring at full volume through the fallen headphones.
“She’s confused.” Kyle couldn’t begin to understand why or how things had gotten so muddled for her. “She’s got a mother with a traumatic brain injury, and when it comes down to it, she doesn’t want to be on the road all the time.”
“No surprise there, right?” Axel went back to shoveling in his food. “We’d be the same way with your mom.�
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“Yeah, but—”
“What? You can work around that, can’t you? Spend summers in Philadelphia. You can fly back to Philly on the off days during the road trips, as well. It’s not like you’re a rookie anymore. Coach would let you go.”
“Right. Except she didn’t even make that an option. She said she won’t give up her mom and I won’t give up hockey, so see you around. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out. That kind of thing.”
Axel kept eating. “You just let her walk away like it was over?”
“What are you, the effing team fortune-teller now?” He shoved aside his tray. “How do you know what happened?”
A few heads turned from the seats in front of them. Obviously, he’d raised his voice. But Kyle was too ticked off to rein it in.
“I don’t know. I’m asking you, Murph. Did you fall for this girl and then just throw your hands in the air when it got rough after…what? A few days?”
“She was the one who didn’t want to try, bro. Not me.”
“You know what your problem is?” Axel pointed a finger in his face, a ballsy move when Kyle was already walking a razor’s edge in this mood. “Everything comes easy to you. Do you know how hard the rest of the world has to work to accomplish things you take for granted?”
The rest of the conversations on the plane grew noticeably quieter. A few of the veterans popped in their own headphones, knowing better than to get involved, but the rookies had their heads on a swivel to see what was happening.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Kyle removed the finger from his face, careful to keep his movements dispassionate so the coach couldn’t accuse them of fighting. “You’re going to spout off to me now when I just had the worst game of my life and my girl left me?”
Yeah, at this point, discretion was no longer at the top of his list.
“In your worst game, you still had a goal and an assist. How do you think it makes Matthias over there feel—” he pointed to a rookie who hadn’t even dressed for the game “—when you piss and moan about your missed shots when he’d give his eyeteeth to score at this level? You’re freaking gifted, man. From racing sailboats on the Cape to backyard football with your brothers, you kick everyone’s ass in any sport you try. So when an obstacle comes your way, do you even have any clue what to do about it?”
