“You said it was urgent.” Jake shot him a disbelieving look. “I broke the speed limit getting here and you’re playing freaking hostess?”
“You speeding is unusual, how?”
“Funny, Truman. Don’t give up your day job.”
Tru tried not to squirm under the all-star defenseman’s penetrating gaze. Normally, it wouldn’t have affected him, but with his emotions in turmoil, Tru’s nerves were raw.
He grabbed the letter and tossed it to his friend. “See for yourself.”
Jake groaned. “You called me over here to read some puck bunny’s fantasy?”
His friend’s words sent a dart of pain to Tru’s chest. An image of one particular puck bunny sprang to mind.
He hadn’t seen Jenny since her boss’s collapse. Tru figured she had to know he’d inquired after Sturridge several times, yet she hadn’t reached out to him. He shouldn’t be surprised or hurt; it would take more than keeping her company in the E.R. to regain her trust.
Worse, memories of the past had plagued him over the past ten days. Now, with this letter, he felt as if he was in some weird kind of hellish purgatory—the misdeeds of his life being held up before him so punishment could be exacted.
Hadn’t he already paid the price—over and over again?
“Is this serious?” Jake’s disbelief mirrored Tru’s initial reaction to the letter.
Tru tried to sound nonchalant. “Crazy, huh?”
“What’s your old man after? Does he need money?”
Jake’s assumption that Radek Jelinek had an ulterior motive stung, even though Tru had thought the same thing. “Why would he need money? He ran off with that Boston heiress.”
“Maybe she dumped him. Maybe he cheated on her, like he did your mom.”
“Which is why he wouldn’t approach us for money.”
“You don’t think it’s strange he wants to meet his rich hockey-star son?”
“Maybe he wants to reconnect with his kids.” The words escaped before Tru could stop them.
Jake shook his head sadly, his apologetic expression acknowledging the unspoken emotion roiling through Tru. “Why didn’t he get in touch before? He could’ve contacted you guys at any time over the past twenty-plus years. Why now?”
“Perhaps he’s sick and wants to see us all before it’s too late.” God, he sounded desperate. Pathetic.
“Possible.”
Tru slumped into a chair. “But you doubt it.”
“I think he’d have mentioned a terminal illness.”
“He might not have wanted to play the sympathy card.”
Jake sighed and sat next to him. “You’re giving your old man way too much credit.”
His friend was right. Perhaps Tru was eager to believe the best of his father because he’d always hoped he’d have a chance to put things right for his family one day. Because, since he’d opened the envelope, he’d wanted the letter to be that chance.
“He’s still my father,” Tru said softly. “He deserves the benefit of the doubt.”
“Does he? He didn’t care that much about you guys when he was around and until now he made no attempt to reach any of you for all these years. This sudden change of heart stinks. I’d be wary about his motives, bro.”
Tru hated to admit it, but Jake was right. He sighed with frustration. “My mind has been working overtime trying to figure out what to do.”
“That’s your problem. You shouldn’t think.”
Tru punched Jake in the arm. “Like your nickname’s Einstein.”
“Hey, I can use my brain.” Jake hit him back, harder.
Chairs scraped as the two men jumped up and squared off.
“We all saw what using your brain did. You almost lost Maggie with your stupid ideas.”
The mention of Jake’s wife brought a big goofy smile to his friend’s face. “I was smart enough to go after her and win her in the end.”
“With a little help from your friends.”
“I know.” Raising his hands in mock surrender, Jake sat back down. “You didn’t do so well with Melanie, though.”
“I tried.” Not hard enough. He should feel worse; couldn’t explain why he didn’t. “Probably for the best.”
“Yeah. Probably.” Jake made it sound like definitely.
Tru went to the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of soft drinks. Passing one to Jake, he popped the top on his and took a long swig, before grabbing a chair and straddling it.
The letter lay on the table between them. Demanding his attention. Demanding action.
They both stared at it. The silence lengthened.
“Are you going to tell your mom?” Jake asked finally.
Tru shook his head. “Not until I’ve checked my dad out. I don’t want her upset unnecessarily. If he turns out to be on the level, I’ll consider telling her then.”
“Ike may disagree with you.”
“Ike won’t know.”
Jake’s head snapped up. “What?”
“I’m not telling any of my brothers,” Tru said firmly. “Not yet anyway.”
“Why the hell not? You can’t keep them in the dark about this. It’s too important.”
“I have to be sure my dad isn’t screwing with us again. I won’t raise their hopes, only to have them shattered.” Tru thrust his fingers through his hair. “Kenny’s finally got his shot at making the Cats full-time and is working like crazy to be ready for training camp. Linc has to decide whether to stay in college or turn pro.”
“And Ike?”
He had no excuse for keeping his older brother in the dark. At least, not one he could admit. Tru had to be the one to get to the bottom of this; he owed his family that much. He’d been the one who’d made sure his mom had found out about his father’s infidelity. It was Tru’s fault their old man had left.
No damn way he’d let Radek Jelinek hurt them again.
“I’ll tell Ike, just not right now. Dad leaving hit Ike the hardest. I think because he’s the oldest, he felt responsible somehow.”
Tru hadn’t had the courage to tell his brother what he’d done; not then, and not since. “It shouldn’t take me long with the internet to research my father. Then I’ll bring them all up to speed.”
God, he hoped his old man really had changed and this was a genuine attempt to reach out and reconnect.
Concern filled Jake’s blue eyes. “Ike’ll be mad as hell if you blindside him.”
“He’ll understand, when I explain.”
Jake didn’t look convinced. His friend opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by a knock and the sound of the front door opening.
“Hey, bro,” Ike called out.
Tru swore. “Don’t say anything about this, okay?”
“Damn it, Tru.” Jake rubbed the back of his neck.
“Come on, man. I need you to go with me on this.”
Jake puffed out a frustrated breath. “I’m not happy about it, but I’ll keep quiet. For now.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.” Tru raised his voice. “We’re in the kitchen.”
He snatched up the letter, shoving it in his back pocket as his brother walked in.
“Glad I caught you both together,” Ike said. He slumped into a chair, his expression grim. “Saves having to say all this twice.”
Tru exchanged concerned looks with Jake. “What’s up?”
“There’ll be a conference call with all the Cats players tomorrow, but as union rep, I got a preview. I wanted to give you guys a heads-up on what’s going to be said.”
“Sounds ominous.” Jake leaned forward. “Don’t tell me the Scartelli brothers are moving us to Kansas City.”
Ike didn’t crack a smile at the old joke.
Tru’s stomach rolled with uneasiness. “They’ve just changed the GM, what else is...” He broke off. “Crap. They’ve fired Max.”
Ike nodded. “There are some critical decisions to be made over the next few months—who to pick at the draft, which contracts to renew, who to trade, who to keep—so Callum Hardshaw wants his own man in place ASAP.”
“Any word on who the new coach will be?”
“Not yet, but Hardshaw must have a name in mind. He may even have tapped someone already. I’m guessing it won’t be long before he announces Max’s replacement.”
Which made Tru’s position with the Cats even more precarious. He tried to look on the bright side. “There are a few coaches with good track records looking for jobs. Maybe Hardshaw will choose one of them. The Scartellis want to win, so a veteran coach would make sense.”
“Yeah. Not so sure about that.”
The way Ike avoided his gaze made Tru nervous. “Spill, bro. What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything for sure.” Ike sighed. “The phrasing Hardshaw used about the future of the team smacked of blowing everything up and starting afresh.”
Jake frowned. “We knew that was a possibility when he was hired. The guy’s known for making something out of nothing. Look at the job he did with Columbus. So, what’s put a bug up your ass?”
Ike’s gaze swung between Tru and Jake. “Hardshaw said the Scartelli brothers have promised him time to achieve success. They want the Cats to be another Pittsburgh.”
“You’re kidding. They want us to molder in the league basement for a few seasons in order to get high draft picks, in the hopes that we’ll become a serial Cup contender?” Tru swore. “That’s my career with the Ice Cats done. I’ll be gone this summer. I wish I’d hired an agent before I negotiated my last contract. I might have got a no-trade clause. Then they couldn’t just ship me out to the highest bidder.”
“Andy will get you a great deal.” Jake crushed his empty can.
“But it won’t be with the Ice Cats.” What a difference a few years made. From hero to zero. “The last time my contract was up, I was the team’s MVP. The Cats were terrified they’d have to shell out major money if they let me reach free agency.”
“I told you agreeing to your contract early was crazy.” Ike crossed his arms. “You’d have got way better terms from most other teams.”
“I was happy to take a hometown discount to stay with the team who drafted and developed me—and to keep playing with you. I was damn loyal to them. Where’s their loyalty to me?” Tru threw his arms up in disgust.
His brother shrugged. “There’s no loyalty in professional sports. Especially when you’re losing. They only care about the bottom line.”
“Ike’s right,” Jake said quietly.
“Doesn’t make it suck any less.”
Neither Jake nor Ike disagreed.
When they left a short while later, Tru threw himself onto his couch. His hockey-playing future was looking bleaker by the minute.
With his current run of luck, he’d end up without a team at all or worse, bussing it in the AHL. Damn it! He didn’t want to play in the freaking minors. He still had good legs and decent skills.
The room darkened as afternoon turned into evening, mirroring his darkening thoughts.
Maybe he’d have to resort to playing overseas in Europe or Russia. The money was great, but the other leagues weren’t as good as the NHL. Plus, he didn’t want to become one of those guys he’d always felt sorry for; a has-been, desperately clinging to a career everyone else knows is already over.
He’d rather walk away from the game than be a laughingstock.
Can the pity party.
Jeez. He was going to drive himself crazy if he didn’t get away from his own thoughts. He had to get out of the house. Go to the Plaza. Plenty of options at the mall to keep himself occupied for a few hours.
Tru leaped up, grabbed his keys and headed out to his car.
Dealing with the crazy drivers on Route 17 helped blow some of the self-pity from his head, so he was able to walk into the mall with a sense of purpose. He’d check out some stores, grab a bite to eat and maybe take in a movie.
He was in the sporting goods store, looking at athletic shoes, when his plans went awry. An unfamiliar male voice came over his shoulder.
“Hey, you’re Tru Jelinek.”
Tru tensed. He put down the shoes and, plastering on a polite smile, turned slowly to face the speaker.
A balding guy in an Ice Cats away sweater grinned at him and stuck out a meaty hand.
Tru shook his hand. “Good to meet you.”
“I’m Don. This is Dirk.” He pointed at his buddy, whose blue Islanders sweater strained over his beer belly.
“Thought you’d be on the golf course,” Dirk sneered.
Tru didn’t point out that the Islanders may have made the play-offs, but they’d been knocked out in the first round by Toronto. It wasn’t worth the aggravation. “Not really a golfer. I like more action to my sport.”
“Yeah.” Don shot a glare at his pal. “So, Tru, watcha think of the latest rumors about you being traded out west?”
* * *
THE SINGLE PINK line confirmed what Jenny had known since yesterday.
“Damn it.” Half-whispered words caught on a broken sob.
Jenny had allowed herself a few moments of hope as she’d waited for the pregnancy test, even though she’d known deep inside there was no way she’d get a positive result. The IVF nurse had said there was a tiny chance that Jenny could be pregnant, despite the bleeding, so she should take the test, to be sure.
Pain stabbed at Jenny’s heart. And in her womb. An aching tightness gripped her throat. The hollow feeling within her was real.
The test isn’t perfect. Maybe it’s wrong.
Logic drowned out her desperate inner voice. No mistake.
Tears welled as reality stamped out the spark of hope. There was no baby.
Her body had let her down; one more betrayal in her life. She should have known better than to expect anything else. How many more times did she have to be shown for the message to sink in? Good things only happened to good people. To people who deserved them.
Stop!
That was his thinking. Douglas Boult’s ranting had no power over her now. His ornate casket was six feet under in the Blessed Peace Cemetery. He couldn’t hurt her, or anyone else, ever again.
Still, Jenny couldn’t silence the lingering doubt. Had she done something wrong? Questions whirled in her head as she revisited the days since the embryo had been implanted, trying to analyze every action, every movement. Desperately seeking an answer while hoping not to find one.
Finally, she drew in a shuddering breath then rose slowly, her muscles aching with suppressed grief. She had to let the IVF nurse know the result.
Jenny dialed Sally’s number and the nurse answered her call after one ring.
Anguish rose, threatening to overwhelm Jenny. Her words were little more than a whimper. “I... It...”
“I’m sorry,” Sally’s sympathetic tone soothed.
Relief that she didn’t have to say the words eased some of the tension in Jenny’s body. “Was it my fault?”
“Of course not.” The nurse’s tone brooked no argument.
“But I...”
“Stop.” Sally’s voice softened. “We don’t know why you miscarried, but it wasn’t anything you did. Unless you went bull-riding or bungee-jumping.”
Even in her misery, Jenny’s lips twitched. “No.”
“No drinking, smoking, drugs or partying?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I’m afraid this is just one of those things.”
“What do I do now?” Jenny’s voice broke.
There were no options.
Jenny cleared the lump from her throat. “I can’t afford any more attempts.”
“You’re still young. Things could change, giving you another opportunity. You could meet Mr. Right and try again.”
“There’s no such thing as Mr. Right.” Once, she’d thought Tru was Mr. Right. But he’d shown himself to be Mr. Totally Wrong.
“You don’t know that,” Sally chided.
Sadly, she did. But the nurse couldn’t understand, not without knowing the whole story. So she moved on and thanked Sally for her help.
For a long time after Jenny hung up, she sat cross-legged on her bed, hugging her pillow, thinking about the past and what she’d lost. Eventually, her mind shifted toward the present and how she would deal with the problems facing her.
One thing was for sure, Lizzie came first. Always. From the minute Jenny had turned eighteen and they’d left their uncle’s house, she’d tried to give Lizzie a good life. The sacrifices she’d made had been worth it; her sister was bright, well-adjusted and happy.
Jenny would do everything to ensure her sister stayed that way.
Which meant she couldn’t sit around here feeling sorry for herself. She had to make money. To do that she had to find a job. Maybe several jobs. As nervous as she was about putting herself out there, she had no choice.
Forcing herself to move before the anguish lingering within took over, Jenny rose stiffly and walked to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her unruly hair, grimacing at her too-pale reflection.
Back in the bedroom, she took off her sweatpants and T-shirt, replacing them with black jeans, a crisp striped blouse and her favorite spiked heel sandals. Like donning armor, the layers encased her vulnerable self within its protection, enabling her to face the world.
Jenny was applying lipstick when the phone rang. At first she didn’t answer. The wrong words, the wrong tone and her fragile control would shatter. When it rang a second time, she checked the caller ID.
Why was Maggie so keen to get hold of her?
A Perfect Trade (Harlequin Superromance) Page 6
