That was really all I had to say, so I turned around and headed back out. Jim slapped a hand on the back of my shoulder as I passed him, but I kept going, not stopping until I got back up to the press box.
The guys up there gave me questioning looks, but none of them asked me where I’d gone or what I’d done. I wasn’t particularly interested in telling them, so I didn’t offer anything.
I sat up there, my hands folded and my chin resting on top of them, and waited. Wondering. Impatient.
The boys came out for the third, and I could see a little more jump in their steps. Kally and the rest of the top line—Riley Jezek and Viktor Ellstrom—got in place at center ice for the face-off. RJ won the draw, and Eller and Kally used their wheels to zip past the Canucks D and into the zone.
With the puck. They carried it in, instead of chipping it over the line and fighting to get control of it. They just fucking kept it in their possession, just like we’d been fucking playing all year.
Eller passed the puck behind the net and Kally went over to keep it away from the Canucks defender. He slammed the fucker into the boards, a huge body check that made the glass rattle. I could hear it all the way in the press box. The crowd roared, but not as loud as my pulse. That wasn’t Kally’s game. He was a skill guy. He used his speed and his shot to break the other teams down, usually. But not right now.
Our whole bench was up, shouting encouragement, as Kally tried to dig the puck out of the corner. RJ joined him back there, and one of Vancouver’s forwards, until the puck finally popped free. Razor had to pinch in down the wall to keep the puck in the zone. He shot it wide of the net, and Eller picked it up on the other side, trying for a wraparound.
The goalie got his pad over just in time, and the rebound sent the puck flying out of the zone. Everyone had to chase it, and one of the Canucks forwards—one of the Sedin twins—got there first.
Now the game looked more like our style of hockey.
Now, whatever the fuck happened, Scotty could be proud.
SARA’S PHONE WENT to her voice mail when I called after the game. No, scratch that. It went straight to her voice mail. It didn’t ring once. Did that mean she was avoiding me, or was her phone just turned off for whatever reason?
By now, surely she knew that I’d talked to her father. I didn’t know how she would respond to that—Sara’s reactions to things were a little more unpredictable than what I’d come to expect from my mom and sisters—but I was prepared for any number of reactions. Except the silent treatment. As long as she was willing to talk to me, even if talking was really more like yelling, it was something I could work with.
I waited for the beep after her greeting, impatiently tapping my hand against my thigh while lying on the bed in my hotel room.
“Hey,” I said once the tone ended. “Call me whenever you get this. Doesn’t matter what time it is. I want to hear your voice.” I debated for a moment whether it would be a good idea to just end it there. I couldn’t, though. I needed to tell her more. “I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you, Sara.” Then I ended the call before I said too much, pushed too hard. There seemed to be a very fine line with her, at least in terms of how I was pursuing her, between how much was enough and when I’d gone too far.
Her voice was almost all I’d been able to think about for well over an hour. It was an intensely sexy voice, kind of low pitched like you might expect from a woman more than twice her age. A voice that had lived and seen and experienced. A voice made for the bedroom.
Once the game had ended—a three-to-two overtime loss—all I’d wanted to do was get somewhere quiet and call her. Instead, I’d had to go down to the locker room along with the rest of the guys who’d been up in the press box so we could wait through all the postgame stuff. Then the team as a whole had gone out for a meal after the guys finished cleaning up, and I’d just finally gotten back to my room.
Like last night, Jens had headed out with a few of the guys for a beer once we returned to the hotel. They were trying to drown the sting of the loss more than anything, but it might be better to let themselves really feel it. That sting could be an excellent motivator. They’d asked if I wanted to go with them. A lot of nights, I would have gone if for no other reason than to be sure everyone got back okay. Things were different for me now, though. Because of Sara. Because she had a baby on the way, and I had to find a way to get her to let me in.
I tossed my phone on the nightstand. Had it been too late for me to call? Maybe she’d already gone to bed and didn’t want to be woken up, and that was why she’d turned her phone off. But then again, maybe her battery was dead. It wouldn’t do me any good to worry about all the things that might have happened to her if that was the case. There was nothing I could do about anything from Vancouver.
My phone beeped with a text message, and I shot upright to see if it was from Sara. It wasn’t. It was from Cadence.
Tough loss tonight. I thought Burnzie was going to win it for you in OT when he caught them on a bad line change. Sorry! I love you, Cam.
She’d peppered the message with all sorts of emoticons, almost more of those crazy-looking faces than there were words, making it obvious that it came from a teenaged girl. I chuckled to myself. Then I glanced at the time before responding. It was eleven thirty on a school night, and she had figure skating practice she had to be at every day, well before first period was even a thought. Neither her coach nor her partner would be very happy with her if she wasn’t well rested and prepared.
I love you, too. Go to bed. You have to be awake and able to function at zero dark thirty.
I’d barely hit “send” before my phone was ringing. I didn’t have to read the name to know who it was. The picture that flashed up on my screen was more than enough—a sneak shot I’d taken of Sara’s strappy purple stilettos, the ones she’d worn to this year’s Casino Night.
I couldn’t even describe how turned on I’d been, watching her walk around in those shoes and her designer kimono-style dress. It had hugged every curve. All of her sexy bits had been covered, but I’d never been more fascinated by looking at a woman.
I’d known well before that night that I was far more attracted to Scotty’s daughter than was wise, but that was the night that I knew beyond any doubt that I was fucked. I’d never be able to get that image of her out of my head, and I’d doubted any woman would ever entice me half as much as Sara Thomas did.
So far, they hadn’t. They hadn’t even come close.
“I’ve been going crazy needing to hear your voice,” I said as soon as I answered.
“What the fuck did you tell my father,” she demanded with no preamble, “and what in hell made you think it was okay to fucking tell him anything?”
The fact that hearing her rant at me like that made me hard probably just proved I was a sick, twisted bastard. I shifted on the bed, adjusting myself with my free hand, as though that could make the erection go away. It’d probably piss her off even more if she knew I was aroused because she was mad at me.
I’d known this was coming. Ever since I’d stepped foot inside Scotty’s hospital room, I’d been waiting for this moment to hit. I never got into a fight without thinking through the potential consequences, whether on the ice or off it, and this was sure as fuck going to be a fight.
“I was trying to protect you,” I said as calmly and coolly as possible. One of us had to keep a level head, and I knew it was going to have to be me. Sara didn’t do level, and her emotions were running on high right now.
“Protect me? How in fuck is telling my father that we’ve been a couple for months—months, Jonny—supposed to fucking protect me? How is fucking lying to him outright supposed to do anything but create a huge mess?”
“You’ve been calling me Cam,” I reminded her softly.
“You don’t fucking get to be Cam right now. Cam is what I call you when I fucking care about you, and right now all I want to do is punch you in the fucking throat. That was a dick move—�
�
“You can,” I interrupted. “You can punch me in the throat or the nose or anywhere else you want the next time you see me. You can kick me in the balls. Whatever you need to do. I won’t try to stop you.”
“And that just pisses me off even more. I want you to fucking fight back.”
“I won’t ever hurt you, Sara.”
“Too fucking late, Jonny. You already hurt me.”
I listened closely, trying to determine if she was crying. I didn’t hear sniffles, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
“Is your dad…is he okay?”
“Yeah.” She sighed heavily. “Yeah, he’s all right. They moved him out of the ICU today.”
“He’s not mad at you?” I held my breath so long it hurt my lungs.
“Not mad, no. He’s upset that I supposedly have been lying to him for so long. That I kept our relationship a secret for so long.”
I finally released my lungs. “That’s good. You— You got my list last night? My questions for the doctor?”
“Screw your questions, Jonny. You lied to me. You promised you wouldn’t tell my father—”
“About the baby. That’s what I promised not to tell him. I didn’t lie to you.”
“Maybe not, but you still went behind my back.”
“It’s all worth it to me as long as he’s not angry with you.”
She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, right. There’s a problem with your plan, though. He’s going to be pissed once he finds out I’m pregnant. He’ll lose his shit.”
“I’m sure he will. But he’ll direct that at me, not at you. So it’s not really a problem.”
“Wh—”
I could practically feel her confusion through the phone. She fell silent for a minute, and I had to just sit there and wait.
“That’s why you fucking did this? Isn’t it? You fucking lied to him, you told him we’d fucking been together long enough that he’ll think this is your fucking baby. You want him to think you knocked me up.”
“Yes.” That was all I could say.
“You son of a bitch. You fucking son of a bitch.”
The line went dead.
Well, that went well.
DECEMBER TENTH. THAT was when my baby was due. It seemed like a long time away, but with the fog in my brain right now, it might pass a lot faster than I was prepared for.
I’d scheduled another appointment in four weeks for some tests and a follow-up, and my first ultrasound would be about another month after that. In the meanwhile I had to start taking prenatal vitamins, which I’d been expecting, plus an iron supplement, which I hadn’t been expecting. My doctor had informed me during the visit that I was anemic. She’d said that could pose serious risks to both me and the baby, so we had to be sure I was getting enough iron to support us both.
That would be easier to do, of course, if I was able to keep my breakfast down. Most cereals were high in iron, she’d said, as if that could be the solution to all of my problems. The morning sickness was making it next to impossible to eat anything until around noon or so each day, though, so I wasn’t so sure cereal would solve anything. She gave me a list of iron-rich foods so that I could make sure I was eating some of them every day in addition to taking the supplements.
Even though I had no desire or intention to talk to Jonny right now, I did ask the doctor some of his questions. The fact was, I wanted to know the answers to some of them just as much as he had.
I was glad I’d taken Dana with me, too. I could have asked someone else to come with me, of course, like Rachel or Laura, but they’d both already been through more than one pregnancy. I wasn’t sure they were the best choice for me on that front. There were some things that they would never think to ask because they already knew the answers. Dana, though? She was as clueless as I was about things like how to combat morning sickness, how soon I would feel the baby moving inside me, and if there were certain sexual positions that were safer than others. Actually, she’d been really interested in that last bit, making me curious if she and Zee were planning to jump on the baby train soon after the wedding. I knew her mom wanted to push them in that direction.
I personally had no intention of having sex anytime soon—whether with Jonny or anyone else. Sleeping with a man for all the wrong reasons was what had gotten me into this boat. I didn’t need to continue with that, even though I already had the other night…at least somewhat. Falling into bed with Jonny had been way too easy to do, and now? Now that I knew how he was trying to manipulate me into having a relationship with him, I was starting to regret the sex.
That was why I hadn’t answered his calls or text messages. I wasn’t ready to talk to him. Not after what he’d done. Truth be told, I had no earthly idea when I’d be ready to talk to him again. Maybe not for a long fucking time. Maybe not ever.
I didn’t like being fucked around with, and that was what he was doing.
The really screwed up thing was that I missed hearing his deep voice. I missed sharing his bed with him. How the hell could I already miss that? I’d only spent two nights at his place, but those two nights, he’d made me feel so taken care of. Not just sexually, either—even though the sex had been some of the best of my life. It was more about the way he held me. There was a certain tenderness, something much more intimate than sex, that I felt when I was with him. He’d talked about making me feel treasured and precious, and then he’d somehow done it. I’d never had that with another man. No one but my dad, at least, and that was a completely different ball game. It scared me a little. No, it scared me a lot, but mainly it made me feel shielded from the outside world.
Despite missing him, I wasn’t ready to give in and talk to him.
When I’d had dinner with the girls last night and told them about everything, they’d all said I was being too hard on him. That I should give him another chance. That he’d only done what he’d done because he was trying, in his own way, to help me.
I couldn’t wrap my head around how going behind my back was ever supposed to be helpful. No matter how I looked at it, what he was doing was still a form of manipulation. They didn’t quite agree.
Laura, in particular, was adamant that I needed to get over myself and give Jonny another chance—to give him the opportunity to make things right. He didn’t really break his word to you, she’d said. Maybe he didn’t go about things the right way, but he’s trying to be the kind of man you deserve to have in your life.
He was trying to force himself into a space in my life that I wasn’t prepared for him or anyone else to occupy. He was trying to make it so I would never be able to fully kick him out of my life if I decided that was what I wanted or needed to do.
Because if Daddy thought Jonny was the father of this baby, whether I wanted to have anything to do with him or not, Daddy would insist that he be involved.
This whole pursuing thing was getting way out of hand.
I already told you I think it’s kind of hot, Dana had said.
She wasn’t the one being pursued, though. I’d reminded myself of that repeatedly this afternoon, while I was hanging out with Buster. His owner might be on my shit list, but I liked the dog. I’d left Daddy at the hospital so he could get a nap, and then I’d taken Buster out to the park so he could run around on his leash and get some fresh air.
No fewer than four men who were out jogging in the park stopped to flirt with me. I had to wonder what kind of reactions Jonny got from women when he took Buster out. Not that it should matter to me. Fuck, I was supposed to not care about him.
To my credit—and yes, I was keeping track of these kinds of things because so little of my behavior lately would warrant credit—so far, I’d managed to keep how upset I was over the whole thing away from Daddy. I didn’t want to have to try to explain it to him because I wasn’t ready to reveal the whole shebang. It wasn’t something I normally did—keeping secrets from my father—but I was going to have to come to terms with whatever I decided in regard to
Jonny before I could know how to approach my dad.
If I intended to tell Jonny to shove it, then I could just tell Daddy the truth. The whole truth.
I didn’t know if that was the best thing to do, though.
And if I didn’t go that route, then I was going to have to get to a point where I could forgive Jonny and try to deal with his efforts to pursue me.
Neither of those options sounded very appealing right now, especially since I had more important things on my mind—namely, my father’s health.
Daddy had gotten through the first game without any negative consequences—his blood pressure had stayed down and he hadn’t gotten too upset even when the boys had been playing badly—so the doctors had agreed he could watch Game Two in his room.
I was on my way back up to the hospital to watch with him after having dinner. Not without making a quick stop at the Storm’s practice facility, though. There was something I needed to get from Daddy’s office.
He was awake when I got back to the hospital. He’d eaten about half of his dinner—more than he’d been eating at most meals since the surgery—and had pushed the table with the rest of his food away from the bed so he could sit up straighter.
“Catch,” I said, tossing the stress ball to him.
He caught it. That was a definite improvement from yesterday. I was starting to feel as though he would be okay if they discharged him in a couple more days like they kept saying they would. Just that afternoon, he’d let me walk with him as he took a couple of laps around the nurses’ station on his floor. It had taken forever and a day to do those laps, but he’d done them. That was what mattered.
“What’s this for?” he asked me skeptically. He could really be obtuse when he wanted to be. I supposed that was where I’d picked it up.
I shook my head. “It’s a stress ball, silly. You’re supposed to squeeze it when you get stressed.”
Delay of Game Page 13
