by Anna Sugden
Tracy hadn’t considered how the younger man’s success might affect Ike mentally. “Surely Ike can’t be worried that Monty will take over permanently.”
“No way,” Emily said hotly. “Uncle Ike’s an elite goalie. Monty isn’t.”
“You’re assuming Ike’s thinking logically,” Maggie said. “Under these circumstances, he can’t possibly be. Bad enough that he has to start his recovery all over again, but to suddenly be told he can’t work for the best part of a year, even if he does heal perfectly... Well, imagine how you’d feel.”
Her sister’s words gave Tracy pause. “You’re right. I’d be a mess.”
“And you have thirty-plus years of work still ahead of you. Ike’s time is already limited—even fully healthy, he doesn’t have many seasons left. To waste one because of an accident, made worse by his own stupidity, must be extremely hard for him to take.”
“I hadn’t thought about Ike’s situation in quite that way.” Tracy was chagrined. Even though she’d known everything Maggie had told her, somehow hearing it spelled out like that had opened her eyes to just how much he must be suffering. It would take more than a card game—even the strip version—to distract him from all that.
“Neither had I. Jake put it all into context for me by talking about how he struggled after his accident. Although his issues were driven more by misplaced guilt about Adam’s death.”
Jake had blamed himself for the fatal accident—even though Adam had been driving—because he’d thought he’d let his friend down when he’d ignored Adam’s problems. What Jake hadn’t known was that his teammate had been taking steroids and had set Jake up to take the fall by buying the drugs in Jake’s name. It had nearly cost Jake his career until Maggie had found proof of Adam’s deception.
Tracy couldn’t guarantee Ike the same kind of happy ending, but now that she had a better understanding of what he was going through, hopefully she could find ways to keep him positive.
In the meantime, she did make bloody good cheese scones.
* * *
“OKAY. WHAT HAVE you done with the real Eisenhower Jelinek?”
Ike turned from staring out of the car window and frowned at Tracy. “Huh?”
“You were polite to the medical staff and haven’t complained once since we left the hospital. Clearly Ike’s body was snatched by aliens and you’re a pod creature who looks like him.”
His lips twitched, though the last thing he felt like doing was cracking a smile. “I did what I promised, so they’d let me out of there early.”
“Right. That’s why the nurse wanted to do a CAT scan on your brain to make sure you hadn’t somehow got an aneurysm because your personality was so different.”
He shrugged. “Arguing wouldn’t make any difference, so why bother?”
Tracy flicked him a look, concern in her dark brown eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve given up.”
The challenge in her words sparked a hint of anger inside him. Not enough to penetrate the thick gray fog that had descended on him over the past few days—blanketing him, weighing him down—as the reality of his situation had sunk in. He’d been unable to see beyond the misery of the months ahead and unable to fight his way out of the depression.
The spark flickered and died. What was the point of fighting? Of trying? Hardshaw wouldn’t change his mind, even if Jesus laid hands on Ike and healed his arm instantly. “I haven’t given up. I’m doing as I’ve been told. Nothing more, nothing less.”
She arched an eyebrow, her expression disbelieving. “Definitely body snatchers. The Ike I know wouldn’t let a small setback get to him. He’d tackle it head-on.”
Irritation rekindled the spark. “A small setback? I’m done for the whole season.”
“And you’ll be back better and stronger for next season. This isn’t like a concussion, where you could suffer again. Once you’re healed, you’ll be as good as new.”
“You don’t know that. Even the doc won’t commit to me making a full recovery after the second injury.” He pressed his lips together as he fought to keep the silent cursing that raged inside from escaping.
“The Ike I know wouldn’t take this lying down like a meek lamb.”
“I jeopardized my career by rushing things and trying to roar like a freaking lion. So, yeah, I’ll baa, thanks very much.”
She snorted. “You’re acting like your career is over, not on hold temporarily.”
“Potato, po-tahto.” He shrugged again and turned back to the window.
“What happened to ‘it ain’t over till the fat lady sings’? I don’t hear any arias.”
“Maybe not, but the bitch is backstage warming up and waiting for her cue.”
Tracy laughed, but sobered quickly. “Give yourself a break, Ike.”
“No, thanks. This injury is more than enough.”
“Now I’m really worried—you’re cracking jokes.”
Damn it. He didn’t want to smile. This wasn’t funny. “What do you expect?”
“Your ‘never give up until the game’s over’ attitude.” She flicked the turn signal with more force than necessary and turned right at the lights. “I know it’s hard.” Her voice softened. “But you will get better. It’ll take time—longer than any of us would like—but you will be back to normal at the end of it.”
“What if I’m not?” He hadn’t meant for the question to slip out. Now that it had, he wanted to hear her answer.
“But you will. I have faith in you.”
His throat tightened. He knew she meant what she said; she was a straight shooter. No games. Still, her plain answer humbled him.
And scared him to death.
Because he desperately wanted it to be true. As desperately as he wanted to believe her faith in him was enough.
He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
The fear that had been rumbling inside him erupted. “But what if this is it? What if there is no way back? What if my arm won’t ever be good enough or strong enough?” His voice cracked on the last word.
“You can’t think like that.” Tracy didn’t hesitate. “Cross that bridge when...if you come to it. One shift at a time. Keep focused on the goal. You know this better than I do.”
The uncertainty filling his mind was an unfamiliar emotion. One a goaltender couldn’t afford to feel. One he’d never let himself feel. Yet it was so all-encompassing, he couldn’t reach beyond it. “What if I do all that and the answer is still the same?” he asked quietly.
“You’ll deal with it.”
His head whipped round. “How the hell am I supposed to do that? Hockey is my life. If I can’t play at the highest level, it’s over.”
Tracy pulled into his driveway and parked. She switched off the engine and turned to face him. Her clear gaze met his without flinching. “That’ll be a terrible loss all round. But you don’t have to lose hockey just because you can’t play to the standard you want.”
He sneered at her earnest words. “I won’t be that fool in the AHL everyone laughs at. The one who rides the bus with the kids because he doesn’t know when to give up.”
Worse than the ridicule, he didn’t want their pity.
“So take up coaching. Make a how-to video. I’m sure there are thousands of kids who’d love to know how the great Ike Jelinek did it. Or do more media work. The color commentaries you did a few years ago were well received. The point is there are options.”
The thought of leaving the ice for good, that he might already have played his last professional game, hurt worse than the injury to his arm. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth, trying to ease the pain, but it didn’t help. “It’s not the same,” he rasped.
“No, it isn’t.” Tracy’s expression was serious, her voice calm.
What surpri
sed him was that while there was understanding in her eyes, there was none of the pity he’d feared.
“It can’t be the same. But that’s a good thing.” She laid her hand on his arm. “You don’t want it to be the same. You need it to be different. You just have to accept that different doesn’t mean worse.”
“Yeah.” Except, in his case, it was worse. Hockey was all-or-nothing for him. Play or walk away.
“You’re borrowing trouble again, Ike.” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm. Even through the layers of clothing, the warmth of her touch began to soothe his anxiety. “You don’t need to think about any of this now. You certainly don’t need to make any decisions straight away. Give it a few weeks at least before you consign yourself to immortal hell. You’ll look like a bloody fool if you go off half-cocked and your arm turns out to be fine after all.”
He knew she was trying to tease the darkness from him, but that damn fog pressed closer. “I doubt that’ll happen. I’ve got a bad feeling that I screwed myself with what I did. I sensed something in Dr. Gibson’s voice when he gave me the prognosis. He doesn’t think I’ll be one hundred percent.”
“Surgeons are always overly cautious. The truth is he doesn’t know. He can only give you his best guess and his verdict was that you’d be fine.”
“He danced around the truth. There’s a big difference between ‘fine’ and ‘good as new.’”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I think Dr. Gibson knows that. He’s bound to act pessimistic if he thinks it’ll make you be more cautious. He doesn’t want to have to operate on you a third time.”
“I guess.” What she said made sense, but he didn’t dare let himself be convinced.
“Concentrate on getting better and stronger. If I were you, I’d forget what Hardshaw said and have the goal of being ready for the postseason.”
He frowned. “He made it clear that he won’t change his mind.”
“What happens if Monty gets injured? Especially after the trade deadline. Hardshaw will have another viable option. He can’t go into the playoffs with an AHL goaltending tandem. If you’re skating and fit, even if you’re not a hundred percent, he’ll have to activate you.”
That spark of hope reignited and this time it seemed to glow a little brighter. “Okay,” he allowed. “But the chances of that happening are pretty slim. Our boys on the D will be protecting Monty up the wazoo.”
“You never know. Accidents happen. You’re proof of that.” She removed her hand.
As soon as she did, he missed her touch. “For sure.”
“If worse comes to the worst, you could always play in the IIHF World Championships.”
Ike hadn’t considered that option. He’d never played in the tournament. Partly because he’d been involved in the postseason most years since he’d come up to the big leagues. Even when the Cats hadn’t made the cut or had an early exit, he’d used the time to rest, both physically and mentally. Though it was more highly regarded in Europe, he—like other North Americans—had always viewed the International Ice Hockey Federation’s competition as a consolation prize.
Perhaps it was a viable option. It wasn’t the Olympics, but he’d still be representing his country. The important thing was that he’d be playing.
The glow brightened. There was nothing like game play to ensure his conditioning and fitness were prime. The games might not mean as much as fighting for the Cup, but they were better than nothing.
Assuming he’d be allowed to take part. Which was highly unlikely.
Damn it. Every time he started to get positive, he got a kick in the pants.
“Even if I was selected—which is doubtful, given I wouldn’t have played all season—the Cats wouldn’t let me take part.”
“Why not? It’s a great way for you to test your arm and for you to get back in the habit of real games before next season.”
“The risk of injury is too high. They’d probably prefer to wait until the preseason.”
Tracy shook her head. “Can they actually stop you? Surely they can’t interfere with you representing your country.”
“They pay my salary. They can do what they like.”
“I suppose. On the other hand, they could give you the green light. You won’t know until you get there. The point is moot if you’re not fit.”
“I guess you’re right. It wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.”
Tracy clapped a hand to her chest. “Oh, my God, did you just agree with me? Maybe that nurse should have done a CAT scan on you after all.”
He gave her a dry look. “Funny. Don’t give up your day job.”
“I won’t. At least I’m trying hard not to. No thanks to your GM.” She opened her door and got out of the car.
Ike fumbled with the door handle as she grabbed his bag from the backseat. He was relieved she didn’t open the door for him, but waited patiently until he’d opened the damn thing himself.
“Callum Hardshaw isn’t my favorite person right now, either,” he said as they walked up the path to his front door. “What’s he done now?”
“He’s changed his mind and wants Lois to handle the Dennison trade, even though we agreed that would be one of the projects I’d keep. He thinks it will be ‘good experience’ for her. I’ve busted a gut to manage all the arrangements. It wasn’t easy because Mrs. Dennison is expecting baby number three in January and wants her mother to come over from Lithuania so she won’t be alone for the birth if the Cats are away when the happy event occurs. Plus she doesn’t want the other two kids to miss any school because of the move, so I’ve been handling their enrollment. Nothing’s finished, but I’m supposed to hand the whole lot over to Lois in a neat little package.” The angrier she got, the faster her words came out and the crisper her accent became.
“You might want to breathe,” Ike said. “I won’t be able to catch you if you pass out.”
She gave him a haughty look worthy of royalty, then opened the door and walked inside with her nose in the air.
Unfortunately, instead of cowing him, it turned him on. Damn it. This was not the time or place. What were they talking about? Oh, yes. Lois. Hardshaw. “Will he pay you for the work?”
“Of course. He has to. I’m under contract and I have the work he’s committed to paying for in writing.” She dropped Ike’s bag at the foot of the stairs. “That’s not the point.”
“It isn’t?” He could understand her being pissed because she’d lost money, but couldn’t see the problem with handing over a pain-in-the-ass project for someone else to finish.
“There’s more to this business than money. Our reputation, for a start. I can’t have my company associated with poor quality of service, which is what will happen in this case. Lois hasn’t got the experience to handle the issues.”
He still didn’t get what she was so upset about, but then business wasn’t his game. “You’ll find a way to make sure that it all works out. You won’t let Lois fail. And you won’t let her tarnish your business’s reputation. I have faith in you.”
Her brown eyes widened with surprise at his deliberate echo of her earlier words to him. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“Right back at you.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
Her easy words should have pleased him. That she could readily acknowledge the connection between them was a sign of how far he and Tracy had come in a few weeks.
Yet Ike was irritated. Really? That’s all he was to her? A friend? After all the time they’d spent together this past week, he’d thought they’d begun to reestablish the deeper connection they’d once had. The arguments had given way to conversations. The sniping to teasing, even flirting. The attraction that had bubbled beneath the surface, even through the worst times, had finally broken through again.
Not that they’
d acted on it. Not yet, anyway. Besides wanting to get out of the hospital, the chance to explore what had been building between them was a big reason Ike had been looking forward to getting home.
Friendship? That wasn’t enough for him anymore.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE FLASH OF fire in Ike’s green eyes was the only warning Tracy got that he was going to kiss her. Not that she was complaining. The man had amazing lips. She ran her tongue over them as his mouth came down on hers. A fizz of pleasure bubbled through her veins. Delicious. Not too full, not too thin.
She moaned deep in her throat as his tongue mimicked her actions and took a leisurely path across her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers thrust through his hair, which was ridiculously soft for such a tough guy.
The rumble of his groan as he deepened the kiss echoed deep within her, making her throb. He pulled her closer still until her body was plastered against his. Her aching breasts pressed tight to his broad chest. His erection rocked hard and insistent between her legs. His bandaged arm, heavy against her back, bound her to him.
She’d stop. In a minute. Perhaps two. Just one more taste. And another.
Definitely not fair. He may not be the right man for her, but holy moly, Ike could kiss. And it was a perfect kiss, damn it! The right level of firmness. He didn’t dominate or devour her, but danced with her. They were equal partners; sometimes he took the lead, other times he’d let her take control.
He’d been the same when they’d made love. Her pulse jumped at the thought of giving in to the pleasure and letting the kiss take them to its natural conclusion. Her body cried out with need. A need she knew Ike could satisfy perfectly, too.
Just one more time.
But it wouldn’t be just one more time. They—she—would never be able to stop at just one. And that’s when the problems would start again.
They might be perfectly matched physically, but they certainly weren’t when it came to the reality of everyday life. And no matter how wonderfully he kissed and how great they were together in bed, taking that path again would only lead to more heartache. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
