But I couldn’t get fuck-all done if I wasn’t with them. I couldn’t even go down to the locker room between periods, like Soupy often did during home games, to give them a pep talk or knock some sense into Koz if he took a stupid penalty at an inappropriate time, which everyone knew he was prone to do.
It seriously irked me to be sitting out of games and staying home. Good thing I hadn’t been injured much in my career, because I didn’t think I could handle spending this much time away from the rest of the boys on a regular basis.
It wasn’t enough even knowing that I’d be rehabbing with Andrew Jensen, better known to the guys as Jens, and Leif “Thor” Sorenson. Besides, Jens wasn’t allowed to work out much, or really at all, due to the concussion he was recovering from, so he wasn’t exactly great company, and Thor had apparently not paid much attention during English classes when he was growing up in Sweden. The guy let his stick do the talking on the ice, typically, and he rarely did more than shout a guy’s name to get his attention. Even that was virtually unintelligible. Needless to say, he wasn’t very good company for me, either.
I kind of wished that Soupy were injured right now, which was a shitty thing to think, let alone to actually feel, because the guy had spent about half of his career on the injured list. But he would have been a better rehab companion, because at least he was used to it. He knew how to get through the monotony, the feeling of uselessness, without letting it get into his head.
Hell, even Luddy, otherwise known as Aaron Ludwiczak, might have been more fun to have around. But he’d finally recovered two weeks before my wedding, so he was back on the ice and playing better than ever. No such luck in the company department for me. I couldn’t begrudge the guy being healthy. I wasn’t as heartless as that.
Which meant I was left with Jens, a guy who didn’t want to talk to anyone these days, and Thor, a guy almost no one could understand.
Lucky me.
The time I spent at the practice facility with these two every day made me ache to get home to Mackenzie.
Which, admittedly, was a new sensation for me.
It was scary to think that I’d come so close to marrying Amanda when I’d never felt this sort of anticipation to see her. I didn’t know what this meant about my marriage to Mackenzie, but it could only be a good thing. Couldn’t it?
Even if there were little annoyances starting to crop up between us. That happened in every relationship. Didn’t it?
Just the other day, I’d caught myself grumbling beneath my breath as I’d reorganized the dishwasher to the way I liked it.
And I couldn’t fail to notice that every time I went to brush my teeth, Mackenzie had meticulously squeezed all the toothpaste up from the bottom of the tube, when I tended to just squeeze it from the middle and move on with my day.
The laundry had become another bone of contention, with Mackenzie insisting we needed about seven different bins, when I would typically only wash a load of darks, a load of lights, and take my suits to the dry cleaners.
We were trying not to argue about these things, but they were simmering beneath the surface, just waiting to explode at some point.
Something else that was bound to be problematic for us was when I finally got cleared to play and went out on the road with the team. So far, we’d been together every day of our marriage, but that would have to change. And then what?
No wonder the married guys spent so many of their nights holed up in their hotel rooms instead of going out on the town with the younger, unmarried guys. They were probably having Skype sex with their wives or at the very least talking to them about the boring day-to-day things that all couples had to deal with: what new thing their toddler could do or what the dog ate to end up in the veterinary ER this time.
Or maybe they were just having arguments about the laundry. Hell, a good argument might be nice every now and then. But even if we were still feeling one another out, I kind of liked having something to look forward to once I got home every day. It was a nice change of pace.
About two weeks after returning to Portland, the guys all left on an extended road trip to the East Coast, and a combination of frustration and boredom threatened to overwhelm me.
I didn’t like sitting at home and watching the guys play from my couch, despite the fact that it meant time spent with Mackenzie. I didn’t even like it tonight, even though Jens and Thor had come over to join us. Thor brought his wife, Astrid, and their two-year-old daughter, Kiara. The little girl had spent the entire night so far trying to climb Max and Lola and ride them like horses, which proved to be excellent entertainment for Mackenzie, in lieu of watching what was happening on the ice.
Although, calling it entertainment might be too generous in terms of how she viewed the situation. Her eyes were constantly glued to that child, her body tensed and on full alert. I knew how worried she was because, instead of watching the game, I was watching my wife.
Every time Kiara slipped somewhat, grabbing a tiny, toddler-sized fistful of fur to keep herself in place, Mackenzie struggled to keep from rushing over to rescue the child. But my dogs would never hurt that child—or any child, for that matter. Maybe Mackenzie didn’t know that yet, but she would come to understand it someday.
Hopefully someday soon.
Knowing what small amount I did about her history with dogs, it only made sense for her to be on edge. She didn’t want to see the same thing happen to this toddler, whether she knew the child or not. Something told me Mackenzie would be willing to risk her own safety in order to protect a child she’d never met until two hours earlier.
And that made me feel all warm and squishy inside, in a way I didn’t want to examine.
I wasn’t worried about Kiara, though, or anyone else present, either. Far from it. Max and Lola were big, lovable teddy bears.
As long as they didn’t roll over on Kiara, she’d be fine. And I doubted they’d do anything like that. They might not recognize their own size and strength when it came to adult humans, but they were as gentle as lambs around kids.
My dogs were smart. They knew.
I took hold of Mackenzie’s hand, gently squeezing it to try to ease her nerves, but she stayed just as taut and tense as ever. She wouldn’t settle back against the couch cushions, or even lean against me and allow me to absorb some of her tension.
Damn, but I wished she’d relax.
The guys were up two to one against the Hurricanes late in the second period. Koz was on the ice with my usual line mates of Jamie Babcock, our team captain and a guy better known as Babs, and Ghost. They looked like a hot mess out there, to be honest. It wasn’t pretty. Yeah, they had control of the puck and were cycling it in our offensive zone, but I could just sense that something was off with those three tonight. They weren’t in sync with each other. Their passes were bouncing past sticks instead of connecting with the tape, and then everyone was chasing the game instead of letting the game come to them.
Sure enough, Canes defenseman Justin Faulk poke-checked it away from Koz so easily he might as well have done it blindfolded with both hands tied behind his back.
The next thing I knew, the Canes were racing toward the other end of the ice, and our goaltender, Nicky Ericsson, was facing a three-on-one situation, with only Hammer there to help him out. Jeff Skinner had the puck, so Hammer did the only thing he could do; he threw his big, lumbering, beat-up body to the ice in the general direction of the other two guys, impeding their progress and removing them from the equation.
It worked, but the ref put his arm up in the air, signaling a well-deserved interference penalty, but Skinner still got the puck past Nicky, top-shelf, stick side.
Tie game.
At least the goal negated the penalty, not that it served as much consolation.
“Fucking shit,” Thor muttered—the first words he’d said all night that I’d been able to make out.
While watching all of that unfold, my hands clenching in my lap as if I could have somehow gripped my s
tick and stopped the goal from happening, I’d lost track of what was going on with Max, Lola, and Kiara, not to mention Mackenzie.
The broadcast started replaying how the goal had gone down, with the commentators examining the play from every angle imaginable, but I didn’t need to watch it again. Witnessing it in real time had been bad enough; watching the slow-motion breakdowns would be pure torture.
Instead, I allowed my gaze to follow the same path as Mackenzie’s.
Max was lying down, his chin flat to the floor, while Kiara did her level best to climb onto his back once again. She was struggling, though, and had grabbed on to his ear with one tiny fist and the scruff of his neck with her other, tugging with all her toddler-sized might to lift herself onto him. Max didn’t move a muscle or issue a single whine of complaint, seemingly content to let Kiara do whatever was necessary in order to lift herself onto his prone body. With what could only be described as an innate motherly instinct, or maybe it was in deference for Max’s ears, Lola nudged Kiara’s bottom with her snout, lifting the toddler up into the air so Kiara could finish her ascent.
But halfway up, the toddler let out a squeal that was half surprise, half giggle, at the same time as Max let out a rumble of indignation over having his ear pulled.
That was all it took.
In a flash, Mackenzie was ripping across the room and grabbing Kiara away from both dogs. She darted across the living room in a mad flash, and both dogs barked and bounded playfully after her, obviously thinking this was some sort of new game. Before any of the rest of us could wrap our heads around what was going on, Mackenzie had dropped to the floor and wrapped her entire body around Kiara in a protective posture, with Max and Lola springing over to make sure everything was okay.
“It’s okay,” Mackenzie said in a high, shaky tone. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
And that was when I understood.
She’d thought the dogs were hurting Kiara.
My wife had rushed in, facing her own fears, in order to protect a stranger’s child from a danger she thought only she had sensed.
Max nudged Mackenzie’s face with his nose and then licked her cheek, and she whimpered but didn’t loosen her grip on Kiara, covering the child as best she could from all angles.
“What on earth…” Jens started, but that was all he got out before letting the words die off.
Max licked Mackenzie’s cheek again, and Lola glanced over at me and whimpered softly, a sound that usually meant she thought she was in trouble.
I had to sort this out.
“It’s okay, girl,” I said to Lola. “Go sit.” I pointed to the spot in the living room where I wanted her to go—well away from Mackenzie. My dog gave me a worried look, but she did what I’d commanded. “Max, go sit,” I added, because he was still trying to lick all Mackenzie’s tears off her cheeks, which made Kiara giggle from somewhere deep within the cocoon of my wife’s arms. He plopped down on his butt without moving an inch, willing to obey but only to an extent—because he thought he needed to take care of my wife.
I fucking loved that my dog was already so attached to Mackenzie that he was willing to disobey a direct command from me in order to protect her. But I still had to assert myself as the alpha, because I couldn’t have Mackenzie fainting on me again due to her fear.
“Max,” I said with a lot more heft in my tone. When he looked up at me, I pointed toward Lola. “Go sit.”
He growled at me, which made Mackenzie visibly shake. But she didn’t budge, not even a fraction of an inch. Her innate need to protect Kiara outweighed her fear of my dogs.
That realization was like a trip-wire in my heart. If I wasn’t careful, I might end up falling head over heels in love with my wife.
Which wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing, come to think of it. Maybe I should forget all about trying to be careful. Maybe I should just let it happen.
There were worse problems in life than being in love with your spouse, and we had both lived through plenty of prime examples.
Equally important was the realization that Max was willing to protect my wife and Kiara, even from me. It was clear he had a new favorite. Yeah, I adored that dog for his devotion to Mackenzie, even after only knowing her for such a short amount of time.
Still, I had to get her to let the child breathe, and she wouldn’t let go until I could get Max away from her.
“Max,” I said, using my alpha tone. “Go. Sit with Lola.” I pointed again so he’d know I meant business.
He growled at me again, low and menacing. He meant business, too.
“Want help?” Jens asked, already next to me, while Thor and Astrid stood off to the side, in view but out of the way.
I wasn’t sure if they were trying not to startle my dogs or my wife. It didn’t matter, either way. I appreciated that they were making their presence known without interfering, especially when their two-year-old was at the bottom of the pile.
I nodded. “I’m going to grab his collar. Can you try to drag him when I tug?” I didn’t think Max would try to bite anyone in this situation, especially since I was involved, but he was in full-on protective mode, so there was no telling. And if he was going to bite anyone, I intended to make damn sure it was me and no one else.
Jens nodded his understanding and moved into position. I made a grab for Max’s collar.
Sure enough, my dog snapped at me a couple of times, but I was able to reach around his head and get a good grip on the red strap at the same time as Jens wrapped both arms around Max’s middle. Even with both of us, we weren’t making much progress. Thor came over and helped Jens, which did the trick. It took a lot of heaving and tugging from all three of us, but we managed to drag the stubborn dog across the room and out the back door.
“Lola, outside!” I shouted, and she came bounding after us.
“I’ll stay out here with them for a minute,” Jens said. “Make sure they calm down and don’t have your neighbors calling the cops or something.”
I nodded my thanks and went back into the house, closing the door behind me so that the dogs couldn’t come back in. I had to ignore Max’s rage-filled barks and Lola’s whimpers, hoping Jens knew what he was getting himself into by staying out there with those two, especially while Max was in a protective state of mind. Not once in all the time I’d had them had he ever been this upset with me, and it was all because he wanted to defend Mackenzie and Kiara.
When I reached the living room, it was to find all four of the others sitting on the living room floor with Kiara patting Mackenzie on her tear-stained cheek and saying, “It’s okay, Kissy. Max is nice doggie.”
Kissy? Well, that was a better name than Wi-Wi, which was what the little girl had taken to calling me since she couldn’t yet pronounce the sound that either an R or an L made.
I tried not to laugh at how adorable it was to see a toddler consoling my wife, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I fucking loved every second of it. In fact, images of a little girl with wavy blond hair like Mackenzie’s smacked me in the head, and I wanted to make it happen.
Thinking about making a baby with her might be skipping a few important steps in the process of learning to be married to one another, but now that the thoughts were formulating in my mind, there would be no getting rid of them.
Something told me she’d make a good mom. A better mother than either of us had ever had, that much was sure. But would I make a good father?
Scary thought. Terrified the fucking bejeezus out of me.
I crossed over and took a seat on the floor beside them, dragging Mackenzie into my arms and settling her against me.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured through sniffles and fresh tears.
“Why are you sorry? You thought they were going to hurt Kiara, and you did what you had to do to save her. That’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“But you’ve told me they wouldn’t hurt anyone, and somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I know they wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“But you had a gut-instinct reaction, and you acted.”
She nodded, the top of her head bumping against my chin.
“You were willing to risk yourself in order to save her from being attacked the way you were attacked,” I pointed out.
“But they weren’t going to attack her. They weren’t going to hurt her.” She sniffled again.
“No, they weren’t going to hurt her.”
“I overreacted.”
“Everyone overreacts sometimes.”
“But—”
Whatever her next argument was going to be got cut off by Kiara kissing Mackenzie on the cheek. Then the little pixie grinned at us. “Thewe. I made it aww bettuh.”
“That’s the rule,” Astrid agreed, winking when her daughter glanced over her shoulder for confirmation. “Kisses make everything better.”
I wasn’t sure we’d fully gotten through to Mackenzie yet, because her adrenaline had to be going haywire right about now, but she chuckled through her tears. Then she nodded. “Kisses do make everything better. You’re right.”
But would she let Max kiss her and make it better? That would be the ultimate test.
Something told me it’d be best to wait until after everyone else had gone home to find out, though.
“YOU’RE REALLY NOT mad at me?” I asked Riley, hating how timid and insecure the simple question made me sound. But the truth was, I felt pretty timid and insecure right now. And in my mind, my husband had every reason to be upset, maybe even more reasons than I’d managed to come up with on my own.
The truth was, I always expected Riley and everyone else to be upset with me in some manner or another. Having that sort of outlook on life was second nature to me, as natural as breathing. Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but it was me. I didn’t know any other way of going about my life.
We were curled up in bed, Riley’s strong arms holding me close to him, our skin still naked, flushed, and slightly sweaty following what Riley called a quickie. It’d turned out to be something we’d both needed after the events of the night.
Power Play (Portland Storm Book 16) Page 13
