by Anna Sugden
Emily abandoned the cat, rushing to her mother’s side. The way she slipped her hand into Maggie’s tugged at his heart. Tracy frowned and crossed her arms, daring him to make a wrong move.
“Mummy didn’t mean to overdo the bacon again.” The quiver in Emily’s voice added insult to injury. “It was an accident.”
What he said next, how he handled the situation, was as crucial as a last-minute face-off in a tied play-off game. He couldn’t afford to get it wrong. That urge to run flashed through him again.
Jake forced a light tone. “An accident that conveniently ended up in Catty’s stomach. I know his game, one flash of those green eyes and he gets my bacon for his breakfast.”
As if playing along, Catty began to wash his whiskers.
Though Maggie’s expression didn’t change, the tension in her body eased. Tracy gave a half nod; he’d hit the right note.
Emily smiled nervously, but watched him warily. “The bacon was burned, Mr. Jake. You couldn’t eat that.”
“Princess, I spend nine months of the year eating hotel food, arena food and plane food. I can handle overcooked, undercooked, bland, underseasoned and overspiced.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I draw the line at gloopy and mushy, though.”
“Me, too.” Emily giggled.
He looked at Maggie. “Do you have enough food to try again, or are we going to IHOP?”
“We have plenty, if you’re willing to risk it.” Maggie smiled softly.
Emily grabbed him by the hand and pulled him toward the kitchen table. “Mummy makes great Bendy Eggs.”
“What exactly are Bendy Eggs?”
“A poor man’s eggs Benedict, with cream cheese instead of hollandaise. Until today, it was my fail-safe breakfast,” Maggie said wryly. “I’m afraid ovens hate me and microwaves and toasters barely tolerate me. The jury’s out on kettles.”
“You don’t scare me. Bring it on.”
“In that case, have a seat. This won’t take long.”
Relieved to have skated cleanly through that little crisis, Jake dropped into a chair at the kitchen table.
Tracy smiled gratefully. She handed him the sports section of the paper before joining him. “Don’t worry. You won’t starve. Maggie’s being modest. She can cook perfectly well.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t cook.” Maggie put fresh bacon strips into a frying pan. “I just don’t enjoy cooking.”
“Because that jerk you were married to wanted a wife who was Nigella, Martha and the Barefoot Contessa all rolled into one. He expected you to party by night and play chef and housekeeper by day.”
“Sis!” Maggie shot her sister a warning look.
Tracy threw up her hands in mock surrender. “All right, I’ll shut up.” But she muttered under her breath, “Neanderthal.”
“Mr. Jake’s not like that. You don’t care about a little dust and dirt, do you?”
“Uh...no.” Startled by Emily’s cheerful defense, Jake stammered a response. He then focused on the paper and pretended to study an article on the recent defensive woes of the Giants, though he couldn’t concentrate on a word.
What had happened to a cozy breakfast with simple small talk? He’d only been here five minutes and he was already tiptoeing through a conversational minefield.
A timely reminder of why that earlier fantasy had been off base. Why he couldn’t be responsible for Maggie and Emily. He was no damn good at tiptoeing. He was more likely to put his foot squarely where he shouldn’t and blow them all up. His stomach churned, dampening his appetite.
“Here you are.” Maggie slid a heaped plate in front of him. “The infamous Bendy Eggs. I hope you’ll like them.”
“They look great.” He would say the food was delicious even if it was terrible.
Thankfully, it really was good.
As everyone tucked into their breakfast, the conversation turned to hockey.
“Thanks for the tickets to opening night,” Tracy said. “We’re looking forward to it.”
He glanced anxiously at Maggie, who nodded and smiled. “You’re welcome. It’s a good matchup. It should be fun.”
Emily did a happy little wiggle in her seat. “I can’t wait.”
“You must be happy about hitting the ice for real tomorrow,” Tracy said.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to get out there. Even though it’s still preseason, the first few shifts won’t be easy.”
Maggie frowned. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Playing’s the only way to know for sure.”
“I hope the other team gives you some leeway.”
“They won’t.” He winked. “I won’t give them any, either.”
She rolled her eyes. “I might have known.”
By the time they’d finished eating, the warm atmosphere and jovial company had begun to relax him.
When Tracy excused herself to make a phone call, he rose and gathered the plates to take them to the sink. “Can I help clean up?”
“Thanks for offering, but I have it covered. You could do me a favor, though, and look at the brochures I got on youth hockey programs for Emily. I’d appreciate your thoughts on the best one.”
Maggie’s request lit a spark of pleasure in his chest. Getting her to the game had worked. She was starting to come around. “Be glad to. What changed your mind?”
“I did some research. With the right program, hockey is no worse than soccer camp.”
Nice. At least hockey advice was one area he couldn’t screw up.
“Here you go.” Emily skipped over with the brochures.
He flipped through the leaflets and set two aside. “They all have good skating development programs and under-eight Mites teams, but I think the best two are the Junior Ice Cats and the team I started with, the Ice Blades.”
Maggie turned from the sink, her hands still in the soapy water. “Do you know any of the coaches in those programs?”
“Sure. The Mites coach for the Ice Blades was an all-star defenseman back in the day. Got inducted into the Hall of Fame a couple of years ago.”
“Yes, but is he a good coach for young children?”
Her sharp tone made him a tad uneasy. Like he’d said the wrong thing. He told himself he was overreacting. “I guess. He’ll have a coaching certificate from USA Hockey.”
Maggie pursed her lips. “I need to know how good he is before I sign Emily up.”
There was that tone again. What was he doing wrong? His unease grew but he kept his voice upbeat. “I’ll ask the guys in our locker room which programs their kids are in. Who they recommend.”
“That would be useful, thanks.”
“Won’t you be my coach, Mr. Jake?” Emily’s face fell.
“I’ll be kind of busy training and playing myself, Princess.”
“Oh.” She thought for a few seconds, then perked up. “I’ll need to get skates and stuff. You can tell me what to get, can’t you?”
“I might know a bit about that ‘stuff.’” He grinned. “But most programs have specific equipment lists and will help kit you out. It’s not worth spending a lot of money on fancy gear that you’ll grow out of.”
“I have enough money. Emily needs the best to keep her from getting injured.” The sharp tone had become defensive.
His grin faded. He was definitely back in that minefield again and not doing so well this time. “It’s important to get the best skates and helmets. A youth-hockey expert will ensure everything fits properly.”
“But I want you, Mr. Jake. Who’s a better expert than you?”
With Emily’s steady gaze fixed on him, the pressure of expectation started to make Jake uncomfortable. “Well...”
“Jenny used to play hockey. I’m sure she’d help you.” Maggie’s inter
vention was a gratefully received respite.
Jake followed her lead. “Jenny was a great player and, being a girl, she’d be able to help you get things to fit better.”
“O-kay.” Emily stretched out the word to half a dozen syllables. “But you’ll come and watch my games, won’t you?”
“When I’m not practicing I’ll be there to cheer you on.”
“I think Em should start with the development program and see how that goes before committing her to joining a team.”
He opened his mouth to disagree, then snapped it shut. His knowledge of youth hockey came from playing, not from the perspective of an anxious parent. “Whatever you think’s best,” he said carefully.
“But I can skate already and I want to be on the Mites team now,” Emily pouted.
Sensing the discussion might become fraught, Jake tried to reassure her. “You’ll have fun and they’ll make sure you’ve learned the basics properly. Once the coach sees you can skate well, he’ll move you up to one of the teams.”
“One step at a time.” Maggie’s disapproving expression said he’d put his foot in it again.
Jeez. How had giving simple advice become so complicated?
Emily must have realized she’d pushed as far as she could. She skipped to the back door. “Can I go and tell Amy? Maybe her mum will let her play hockey, too.”
Maggie had barely said yes before Emily dashed out.
The atmosphere in the silent kitchen was tense. Unsure what to say to make things better, Jake stacked the discarded leaflets into a neat pile on the table.
Maggie drained the sink and began wiping the countertops.
Perhaps he should ease her mind about youth hockey.
Jake cleared his throat. “I know you’re nervous about letting Emily get involved in a sport you don’t trust, but she’ll be fine. They don’t allow hitting and checking at that age and they wear every type of protection imaginable. The biggest problem the kids have is bruises from falling on their ass...backsides so often.”
“I appreciate that, but there’s no need to rush these things,” she said coolly.
“Come on, lighten up.” He smiled, trying to get her to reciprocate. “She’ll have a blast.”
Instead, she shook her head. “There are more important things to worry about than fun. You’re not a parent. You’re not responsible for anyone but yourself. You don’t have to worry about your child being hurt as a result of your decision.”
Her words sucker punched him.
Jake clenched his jaw. He knew all about making the wrong decision and someone being hurt as a result. That was hard enough to bear. He wouldn’t be able to live with the consequences of hurting someone as vulnerable as Maggie. Or worse, her daughter. That’s why it was safer for him not to get involved.
He had to get out of there.
“You’re right. I apologize.” Before she could respond, he said quickly, “I hate to eat and run, but I have a bunch of stuff to do before I head to Long Island. Thanks for breakfast. The Bendy Eggs lived up to their press.”
“You’re welcome,” Maggie said stiffly.
She dropped the dishcloth in the sink, then led him to the front door. “I hope the game goes well for you tomorrow.”
“Me, too.” He forced a smile, then jogged down the steps.
“Good luck,” she called after him.
He raised a hand, then focused on putting one foot in front of the other. As he pounded the pavement, Maggie’s words echoed inside his head.
So much for not screwing up.
Perhaps it was best that this happened before things had gone any further between them. Before he’d done any damage.
Jake trudged up the front steps and into his house. He continued to mull over the situation as he got his gear ready for the trip out to the Island.
Maggie was a good woman who’d already suffered enough. She deserved someone who didn’t bear the battle scars of playing sport for a living. Someone who didn’t bear the emotional scars of letting his friend down. He should back off and leave her alone. Let her find that decent guy.
He thought about Maggie and some faceless Decent Guy, smiling, laughing, holding hands. When he got to the guy undoing her buttons, Jake’s gut twisted sharply. His fist tightened on the handles of his duffel bag.
No damn way.
Okay, so he didn’t want to back off. What the hell was he going to do? How could he be with Maggie when she deserved so much more?
He was no closer to an answer when Tru’s horn tooted outside.
Jake hefted his bag over his shoulder and headed out the front door. He’d have to think about this later. For now, he had to focus on tomorrow’s game.
Easier said than done.
He couldn’t get the problem out of his head. On the bus ride to Long Island, through the team dinner and long into the night, he kept trying to figure out how he could be with Maggie. He tried to analyze the situation like he did his game. He replayed the scene at breakfast, trying to see if he could have handled things differently.
By dawn, all he knew for sure was...maybe.
The morning skate went badly. Jake was a step off the pace, battling to get his legs under him. His coach and teammates blamed rust for his scrappy play.
Jake knew better.
He had to get Maggie out of his head before the game. He had to focus.
Tru grabbed the seat next to him on the bus back to the hotel. “You’ll be fine, bro. Once you’re into your pregame routine, the nerves will disappear.”
“Yeah.” Jake didn’t correct his friend’s assumption.
“Just keep it simple and stick to your game.”
A lightbulb flashed in Jake’s head. That was the answer. Not just to his play, but to the situation with Maggie. He’d go back to what he’d originally planned. A few dates, no commitment, no worrying about a relationship. No complications. Just enjoying each other’s company and having a good time.
The perfect game plan.
* * *
“ARE YOU LOOKING forward to opening night?”
Jenny’s question wasn’t a surprise, but Maggie had hoped her new friend would wait until after the cheesecake to ask it.
This dinner was their third get-together since meeting at the postgame meal. Their instant connection had continued; they’d talked and laughed through two lunches and endless texts as if they’d known each other for years.
Other than her sister, Maggie had never had a close female friend. Someone she could share confidences with and “ooh” over shoes or giggle over boys. She was enjoying the experience enormously.
At least, she had been until Jenny had asked the difficult question.
Maggie laid down her fork. “I’m not sure.”
Jenny’s teasing smile faded. “Is everything okay?”
“Jake and I haven’t spoken since he came to breakfast a few days ago, so I’m not sure where things stand.”
“What happened?”
“Breakfast had an inauspicious start.” As she explained, Maggie relived the emotional turmoil of the morning.
Having burned the bacon, she’d been on edge even before Jake had walked into the kitchen. She’d steeled herself for the disappointment she’d assumed she’d see in his expression because she’d failed to live up to expectations. Though she’d sworn she wouldn’t live in fear of another man’s opinions, that the only expectations that mattered were her own, her stomach had jolted sickeningly when she’d seen him standing in the kitchen.
Once again, Jake had surprised her. He’d made light of the whole debacle and, as he had with the banister knob, gone out of his way to reassure Emily.
“After that, everything seemed okay.” Maggie frowned. “Until I asked him to recommend a youth hockey program. We
disagreed about certain points. Then something changed. It was like a switch had flipped and he couldn’t wait to get away.”
“Like most men, he doesn’t like being told he’s wrong.” Jenny’s husky laugh turned male heads at nearby tables. “Don’t worry, he’ll come around. He doesn’t hold grudges.”
“But in the meantime, what do we do with the opening night tickets?”
“Use them. You’ll have a great time.”
“What if he’s changed his mind? We’re supposed to sit with his parents. It’ll be awkward if he doesn’t want us there.”
“If he’d had second thoughts, he’d have said. I’d take his silence to mean he wants you to go.”
“Are you sure? Maybe he hasn’t called because he doesn’t want to speak to me.”
Jenny shook her head. “It’s not personal—he has a lot on his mind right now. He’ll be focused on his game, to the expense of everything else. The season opener will be especially tough for Jake.”
“Why? He’s already played a couple of games and he did okay.”
“Sure, but they were preseason games. It’s different when the points matter.” Jenny’s expression grew somber. “It’ll also be his first regular season game since the accident.”
“I imagine it’ll be hard for him to play without his friend.” Maggie’s heart ached for what Jake was going through.
“Definitely. It helps that he’ll be stepping out onto a different rink, wearing a different sweater. Still, Jake’s putting a lot of pressure on himself because he’ll be playing to honor Adam’s memory.”
“No doubt that pressure’s compounded by his survivor guilt.”
“Definitely.” Jenny traced a pattern in the condensation on her glass. “He changed after the accident. I think the realization that he wasn’t invincible made him reassess his life.”
“That’s understandable when his friend died too young.”
“Sure.” Sadness tinged Jenny’s blue eyes. “But I expected Bad Boy to live each minute to the full, not withdraw almost completely.”
