His other tattoos meant just as much. His whole arm looked like car parts coming out of his flesh because working on cars was the only thing he was good at that didn’t darken his goddamn soul. He hadn’t seen much in his future beyond the lifestyle he’d grown up in, but his skin, both his arms, his back, was artwork that showed where he wanted to go. So many times he’d peeled off a bloodstained shirt after a rough night, feeling a little dead inside from how far he’d go to get someone to settle a debt. A flash of the tattoo in the mirror and he’d crash for a bit, then get his ass to the garage to put in insane hours for shit pay, loving every fucking second. He’d spent his whole life like that, sometimes swimming upstream, rising from the depths.
And sometimes he turned around and dove back in.
Maybe it was too late for him to leave all that shit behind him, but as he turned his head to meet Tiny’s eyes, he couldn’t help seeing a little of what she saw in him. Not a man damned.
Just a man.
“I can guess why they scared you, but . . . mine don’t?” He rolled on to his side as she climbed off him to lie on the bed.
“No. Actually, the one on your back was the first I noticed besides the one you showed me.” She ran her thumb over the tattoo on his inner wrist. “I don’t think you’d put that on you for nothing. And I think this one was a reminder.”
“Perceptive.” He lowered his head to his arm on the pillow, reaching down to pull the blankets over them both. She tucked her feet between his thighs, curled so she faced him. He smoothed a loose strand of hair back from her face. “There’s a reason behind everything I do. Not always the right reason, but it’s there.”
“And this?” Her eyes drifted shut as he stroked her cheek. “Is there a reason for you being here with me, right now?”
“Yeah, ‘cause I want to be.” He shifted to his back, drawing her close so her head rested on his shoulder. “Pretty simple.”
She let out a sleepy laugh. “And yet, not simple at all.”
He stared at the ceiling, barely holding in a sigh. Simple was a bit of a stretch.
What the fuck am I gonna say to Ford? He’d backed off one woman for the man he considered a brother. Hadn’t thought twice. What if that’s what he wants? Can you do it again?
Not a fucking chance.
Chapter Six
“You’re starting tomorrow night.”
As soon as Dean spoke, Landon paled and stared at the tiny socks he was trying to fold together. So small in his big hands. Landon clearly knew it wasn’t a question, but still, Dean almost wanted to take the words back. To make them untrue. Unnecessary.
If he thought it would do Landon any good, he’d leave it alone. Let Landon stay home with their daughter. Never mention the game again. If he didn’t know better, he’d be convinced Landon would be fine staying home, devoting his life to doing nothing but making sure Amia was never alone for too long. That her cries never went unanswered.
But she needed to cry sometimes. She couldn’t be in Landon’s arms all the time. Dean and Silver had worked hard to get Landon to sleep through the night without getting up a dozen times to check on their baby. Which would be funny if it wasn’t so sad, because Amia was such a good little girl. She settled in just fine the few nights Landon wasn’t hovering, sleeping right through to morning, waking with giggles and smiles. She was doing fine.
Landon, however, wasn’t. If he wasn’t hovering over Amia, he was cleaning, or in the kitchen making sure Dean prepared the baby food according to all the parenting books they’d all read. It was Silver, not Dean, who had lost her patience and told Landon using store-bought baby food wouldn’t hurt Amia. He’d grudgingly agreed and backed off a little.
Then the other issue came to the fore. Landon was fit to play. And wanted to, by the way he stared at the screen when the Cobras played. But he was torn.
Dean wasn’t sure what bothered Landon more. The thought of being away from Amia for any length of time, or the fact that she might not need him around.
What Dean had seen less than an hour earlier made the former more likely. And there was no mistaking Landon’s reasons. Dean had walked into the bathroom to see Landon with a towel draped around his waist, staring at the tattoo on his ribs, a phoenix and the same poem that was engraved on his son’s tombstone. Landon had walked by Dean, going to their room to pull on a T-shirt and boxers, but his hand subconsciously drifted back to his ribs even as he turned to Dean with a fake smile on his lips.
Dean had no doubt that Landon understood that Silver’s postpartum depression wasn’t her fault. But Landon still suffered some PTSD from finding the mother of his first child dead in his bathtub. And some serious issues about the loss of his son. The way Landon looked at the tattoo proved the fear thrived. He was still afraid for Silver, even though she was doing well.
Leaving their daughter to play the game he loved wouldn’t be easy.
“Tell me you know Silver will be okay. She’s a damn good mother.” Dean clenched his teeth, fighting not to let his aggravation at the flash of uncertainty in Landon’s eyes show. Fuck the internet and all the “knowledge” Landon had gained from it. Those horror stories weren’t the norm.
But the fact remained that Landon had driven the doctor insane with questions for the first month after Silver had started her treatment. Landon needed to know Silver would be safe from herself. That Amia would be safe with her mother.
After the doctor, and the psychologist, had assured Landon that Silver was stable, Landon had stopped being quite so paranoid, but Dean still ended up waking in the middle of the night to a sense of something missing. He’d leave the room and find Landon either standing in Amia’s door, watching her sleep, or sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of beer he usually let go warm while he stared at the wall.
From talking to him, Dean knew exactly what Landon saw, what he felt, while seeming to look at nothing. He felt the weight of his son’s body in his arms. Saw the blood of the baby’s mother darkening the water around her. And believed he’d failed them both.
“Landon, look at me.” Dean kept his voice low, well aware of Silver upstairs, trying to get Amia back to sleep. “You’re playing.”
“Tell Tim to put Hunt in. I can’t do it.” Landon dropped the socks on the coffee table and lowered his face to his hands. “I’m going to retire. Silver’s doing a lot better, but she needs me. Amia needs me. I—”
Dean shackled one of Landon’s wrists in his hand and lowered his head as Landon looked up. “You are twenty-five years old. You’re too young to retire. You have a contract.”
“Fuck the contract. I’m a father.”
“So am I.”
Landon’s eyes narrowed. “I know that. But why should both of us work? You be the breadwinner. Me and Silver will be the stay-at-home parents. Or I will be since you think Silver wants to work.”
“The men are looking forward to having you back.” Dean gritted his teeth, trying not to get frustrated. For a while it had looked like Landon was ready to start living again. He talked about playing with longing, as though he missed it, but then he’d backtrack—almost as though he felt guilty about wanting anything for himself. Dean was done with handling the younger man gently. It was getting them nowhere. “Is this the example you want to give our daughter? When things get hard, give up?”
Jaw ticking, Landon picked up the socks again after wrenching free from Dean’s hold on his wrist. “You’re a grabby, pushy, fucking asshole. Don’t you have a meeting with Keane and everyone tomorrow? Go to bed.”
“I do have a meeting. And Silver will be there.” Dean stood. “I’m going to talk to her now. Are you bowing out of that as well?”
“Damn it, you’ve got to back off, man.” Landon rubbed his hands over his face after giving up on the socks. “Why is it so horrible that I want to be a stay-at-home dad?”
Dean took a step back, thinking of the one time Jami’s mother had tried being a stay-at-home mom. Granted, some people could do it. A
nd be happy. Others would be miserable, and Dean wasn’t about to stand by and let Landon become one of them. Amia deserved a father who felt whole.
“Tell me something.” Dean grabbed the basket of clothes Landon had already folded, ready to bring them upstairs to Amia’s room. He glanced back at Landon, trying to gentle his tone even though he was running out of patience. “You’re amazing with Amia when you’re with her, but do you think she gets anything from you when you’re staring at the team stats in the morning, wishing you’d been the one between the pipes, knowing you could have saved the game?” He shook his head when Landon dropped his gaze to the floor. “Other players have kids, and you can tell they’re proud of their daddies. Cheering them on out there, wearing their numbers and bragging to all their friends. Your niece does it. I want that for Amia. I don’t want her to see you pissing away the few years that remain in your career, sitting at home with nothing but regrets. And the way you’re going, that’s all you’ll have left.”
But maybe that doesn’t matter. And if it doesn’t, I still have a job to do.
Heading up the stairs, Dean mentally went over Hunt’s stats. And Ingerslov’s. Ingerslov wasn’t old, but he’d proven to be injury-prone over the last year. He’d also gotten sick again—his immune system was not good. The doctors were looking into it, but it was likely that the man wouldn’t play for much longer. Hunt had talent but lacked maturity. If Landon didn’t return to the team, Dean would have to look for another experienced goaltender. Which the team couldn’t afford. Keane’s money gave them a bit more leeway, but they were still barely above the league’s salary floor of forty-four million. Which Keane would be bringing up tomorrow at the meeting.
The man was a billionaire, so maybe he could invest more than the Delgados had, but that would all depend on what the team needed. And what Keane was willing to invest. From their dealings so far, Dean knew Keane was a savvy businessman. He wouldn’t throw money around needlessly.
We need a goalie we can rely on.
They had Landon. He could bring the team to the playoffs.
Landon needs the team. The team needs him. I have to make him see it.
As a general manager, dealing with all the issues players brought to the table was easy. He could handle egos and agents. But this thing with Landon was a little more personal. Pushing too hard made Dean uncomfortable. He had to separate what the team needed from what he expected from the most important man in his and his youngest daughter’s life.
“Dean.”
Dean stopped halfway up the stairs, glancing back at Landon over his shoulder.
“You’re right. I miss the game.” Landon hunched his shoulders and sighed. “And it makes me feel like a shitty father for wanting to get back out there.”
Nodding slowly, grip on the basket tightening as Landon’s words offered a sliver of hope, Dean watched Landon step up to his side. “But you don’t think I’m a bad father for going to work every day? I did the same with Jami as I’m doing with Amia. And I raised Jami alone, for the most part.”
“You’re an amazing father, Dean. You know that.”
After seeing how distant and tired Jami had been lately, Dean wasn’t so sure, but he’d leave that for now. He put his hand on Landon’s shoulder as they neared Amia’s room, holding the basket of clothes against his hip. “Think of it. Amia has you, and Silver, and me. And we’re all doing everything we can for her. You have to trust that Silver and I will take care of her when you’re not around. And that every moment you’re here will be no less precious.”
“You make it a little easier to see that.” Landon held his breath as he approached Amia’s crib, the tender expression on his face making it hard not to understand where he was coming from. Blankets kicked off, Amia slept completely sprawled out, smiling in her sleep. Standing here, just watching her sleep . . . nothing else seemed all that important right now.
There were times when Dean hesitated by the door after he kissed Amia’s cheek, straightening his tie and meeting Silver’s knowing eyes before grinning and heading to his car. As Landon fussed with Amia’s blankets, then went to check the long heater under the bedroom window, Dean stood by the crib, struggling with the urge to pick Amia up and hold her close. He forced himself to go to her dresser to put her clothes away. He’d been through this before, but it never got old. He knew how fast babies grew up, how quickly the time came when you had to let them go.
Landon shook his head as he came to Dean’s side. His tone was soft. “I wish I could tell you why I worry so much. I just—”
“I know better than almost anyone, Landon. I’m here.” Dean shook his head and drew Landon out into the hall when the man simply nodded. “No, don’t just pretend you know that.” He curved his hand around the back of Landon’s neck, his pulse racing at the feverish heat against his palm. But he managed to get the words out that he needed to say. “I. Am. Here. Not just for Amia and Silver. For you. I know you are trying to understand what Silver went through with her PPD, but you’re fucking stubborn about dealing with your own problems. I’ve stood by you at your son’s grave. I’ve sat up with you when you’ve had nightmares of bloody bath water. Of Silver in the place of your ex. I’ve been here through it all.” He had the urge to hold Landon against the wall outside their bedroom until the man did more than nod. Until he said something that would assure Dean his words were getting through that thick, puck-dented skull.
“I know you’re here, Dean. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“Damn it, I don’t believe that.” Dean lowered his voice, hearing Silver shifting around beyond the closed door. “Do you know what scares me?”
Landon swallowed hard, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. “Nothing?”
I’m going to strangle him. Dean inhaled slowly, keeping his tone level. “I’m afraid of what will happen when you wake up after a nightmare without me or Silver around. They’ve gotten worse since Amia’s birth. You’re better after you see her.”
“Then don’t make me go.” Landon’s voice broke. His muscles relaxed under Dean’s hand, then he shuddered. He turned his head to stare toward the darkened hall, blinking fast. “If I’m here, I can always see her.”
“You can’t live like that. Maybe you should . . .” Dean dug his fingers into the sides of Landon’s neck, pressing closer when Landon tried to jerk away. “We both told Silver to see someone. And she has. It helped her. You’re a hypocrite for refusing to do the same.”
“Then I’m a hypocrite. Silver has issues because of her past and having a baby. I’m okay.”
“No. You’re not. But I can’t force you to see anyone, any more than I could force Silver.” Dean released Landon’s neck, knowing full well he shouldn’t be touching him like that. Nor should he be smoothing his hand over the front of Landon’s shirt, feeling tense muscles jump against his light touch. “At least Carter will be with you. He tells Ramos everything, and Ramos will tell me.” An edge crept into his tone, almost taunting as he smiled at Landon. “Having subs has been rather beneficial to this team, don’t you think?”
“Try it, Dean.” Landon latched on to Dean’s wrist, turning to back Dean into the bedroom door. “Try to Dom me. I need a good laugh.”
“Why so defensive, Landon?” Dean gave Landon a hard look, still smiling. “I’m a sexual dominant. There’s nothing sexual between us. And if there were . . .” Dean let a slow smile slip across his lips, and he reached behind him for the doorknob. “I don’t believe there’d be any power play involved.”
Landon jerked Dean away from the door before he could open it. “Then what would there be?”
Sweet revenge. Dean liked being straightforward, but Landon made it difficult. So he shrugged. And pushed Landon’s hand away to open the door. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”.”
As the door swung open, Dean met Silver’s eyes. Then frowned as he saw the team ledgers spread out over the bed. So far both he and Landon had managed to keep her on a “need t
o know” basis concerning the team. Even Oriana had done her best to distract her younger sister. Silver had seemed happy to stay on the outskirts of team management, hearing that the Ice Girls were doing well, that the team had made it through half a season with decent stats. She stayed off the internet after reading a nasty article from the vindictive gossip columnist, Hayley, about how her figure had suffered from childbirth.
Thankfully, that was all Silver had seen. Until now.
“We don’t own the team anymore.” Tears spilled down Silver’s cheeks, wetting lips that had held nothing but smiles for so long. Dean stared at the books as she bowed her head, wishing he could have burned them before they’d hurt her. But she shoved them off the bed, the bitterness in her tone making it clear what was written on those pages wasn’t what caused her pain. “We haven’t owned the team for months. You both lied to me!”
“Fuck,” Landon muttered as he stepped into the room. He drew his shoulders back, spine stiff. “Silver, we were afraid what the shock—”
“My condition. Right.” Silver’s eyes were glowing with a dangerous light. Dean almost wished she’d thrown the books at them. That he could have handled. Her light laugh was nerve-racking. “Is that going to be an excuse for you two keeping things from me forever?”
“No.” Dean stepped up to Landon’s side. He squeezed the other man’s shoulder, just to reassure him, then went to the bed, taking a knee close to Silver by the side of the bed. “Listen to me, dragonfly. I know what this team means to you. How hard you’ve tried to keep it going. Ford’s decision to sell his shares to Keane surprised me. I didn’t know the power the Kingsleys held. Or that Ford could change that by using his shares and getting to the investors.”
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 10
