“You are, and this staff knows that. They listen. Where are you going to find a progressive organization like this that values your opinion?”
“Lots of teams.”
“Those teams don’t have openings, and most of all, they don’t have Ethan.”
“That’s the point. They don’t have Ethan. If I have to take less money with a minor league team and work my way back up, I’ll do it.”
Kaley blew out one of those long-suffering sighs. “Call me selfish, but I’ll miss you. What’ll I do without my partner in crime?”
“I’m hardly your partner in crime. More like your voice of reason.”
“Still, I’ve dragged you down some naughty paths a few times.”
Nothing like the ones Ethan had dragged her down.
Not anymore.
She’d walk away with her head held high and never look back. Even if it was the greenest place she’d ever lived. With the bluest water. And the handsomest, most infuriating billionaire.
Damn it all to hell. In such a short time, Seattle had soaked into her skin just like Ethan had soaked into her heart.
Chapter 17—High Stick
After the last player in the draft was selected, the staff had an office party, and Lauren attended. None of them realized this was her last day. She didn’t want them to know. She hated goodbyes, and she’d set up a deferred email to be sent out tomorrow to take care of that business for her.
She hoped to make it through the party without seeing Ethan, who had been conspicuously absent. She’d sneak away like a thief in the night. Even though they’d agreed to her leaving after the draft, she doubted he realized she’d be walking out of Sockeye headquarters—lovingly christened the Fish Bowl by Mina—for the last time that evening.
Unfortunately, her fast getaway wasn’t to be; Ethan walked in and spotted her immediately. Now she knew how a deer felt when it looked into the headlights of an oncoming car. She wanted to bolt but didn’t dare; instead she held her ground and met her fate.
“So how do you think we did?” he asked conversationally.
“In the draft?”
He looked at her kind of funny, as if he didn’t get what she meant. “Where else?”
“We did good.” Lauren tugged on her Sockeyes T-shirt, suddenly self-conscious at wearing something so blatantly pro-Sockeyes on her last day in the office.
“Nice shirt,” Ethan commented. “I love that logo our graphics department designed.”
“It’s nice.”
“That forward you wanted was still there when it came our turn to pick. I’m glad we got him.” Ethan shifted from one foot to another, as if being around her made him nervous.
“He flew under the radar.” Lauren glanced around, wishing someone would rescue her. No one even looked their way.
“But not under yours.”
“You’re putting together a good future for this team.” Lauren ignored the compliment but couldn’t ignore the hunger in Ethan’s blue eyes.
“I wish you’d be part of it.”
“I can’t.” She shot down his hopes with those two words.
Ethan sighed. “Will you ever forgive me, Lauren?”
“I don’t think I can, Ethan.” She whispered her response and met his gaze. Oh, God, what a mistake. His sadness struck her deep inside, and pierced her already aching heart. If only— She squelched that thought. No options. This was for the best.
“Then there’s no hope for us?” His voice turned husky, laced with regret.
“Ethan, there never was.” Her eyes started to fill with tears. She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of the Sockeyes staff, and especially not in front of Ethan.
Ethan nodded, as if understanding even when he didn’t want to. “I thought we made a damn good team together, Lauren.”
God, why didn’t he just drop this?
“Somewhat.” She didn’t cut him any slack, even though she wanted to. He’d hurt her deeply, more deeply than he could probably imagine. “I’m leaving tonight, Ethan. I won’t be back. I cleaned out my office and have a message queued to send to staff tomorrow. I didn’t announce it because I don’t want a fuss.”
“I understand.” Ethan’s expression was unreadable. She couldn’t tell how her news affected him, whether he was relieved or sad or nothing at all.
“I hope I’m not putting you in a bind. Have you had any success finding my replacement?”
“I could never replace you, Lauren.” He said it like he meant it. Her throat constricted and she stared down at her feet.
“How about one last dinner talking hockey, your take on the draft, that kind of stuff?”
He dangled the one thing besides sex in front of her she couldn’t resist—talking about the game she loved with a man who treated her as an equal.
Lauren opened her mouth to say no, but the sheer need in Ethan’s eyes stopped her. One last dinner couldn’t hurt. One last memory to hold forever of a very special man, who’d nestled in her heart and refused to leave. A man who’d almost made her think she could take a chance on love again until his actions proved to her just why she shouldn’t.
Despite it all, she accepted his invitation because it was the last one she’d ever have from him.
* * * *
Ethan waited outside The Place for Lauren, still surprised she’d accepted his invitation, though he shouldn’t be, since he’d told her it had to do with the team. And so it did, somewhat, not that he had a plan. He’d be winging it and hoping something brilliant came to mind.
Turning to face the view, he smiled as he gazed around the bustling city and the waterfront with the ferries coming and going, container ships leaving port, and tugboats barging logs. He loved this city. He wished he could teach Lauren to love it, too. In time, he suspected she might, but time was the one thing they didn’t have together.
Ethan’s week had flown by too fast. The draft was over, a very successful draft from his staff’s point of view, and Ethan trusted his staff one-hundred percent. If he didn’t, they wouldn’t stay his staff very long. Despite his euphoria over the draft, a heaviness weighed on his heart. Lauren was gone. Unless he launched one last ditch effort to keep her here.
The temptation to do the spontaneous thing, take a leap of faith, and propose popped into his mind several times a day, even as he batted it down for utter ridiculousness. As ridiculous as the alternative? Life without Lauren? Yeah, but since when did Brad have a good idea, and since when did Ethan listen to his crazy ideas?
Lauren had played a crucial part in their off-season planning. Her insights and statistics were invaluable, while her hazel eyes stayed in his head and her honeyed scent floated in the air even when she wasn’t nearby.
Once she was gone, he’d get over her. Out of sight, out of mind.
And who the fuck was he was kidding? Ethan had always played the game his way, created his own rules within the parameters of his morals and ethics. Only Lauren defied every rule he’d ever made.
He turned as a car came closer. A grin stretched the corners of his mouth as she pulled into the parking spot next to his. His first hockey draft had worn him out but seeing her gave him his second wind, like a much needed shot of adrenaline.
She smiled as she got out of the car, her expression sad yet guarded. Damn, but he knew that feeling. Call him greedy, but he wanted one more night, and he wanted it to last forever.
They lingered over dinner and talked about the draft for two or three hours. Lauren didn’t appear to want the night to end any more than Ethan did. He didn’t notice they were the last people in the restaurant until Doris stalked to the table and slapped the bill on it. Apologetic, Ethan paid, and they walked outside to a beautiful, unusually warm night. It was dusk and a brilliant sunset lit up the western skies across the water illuminating the snow-capped Olympic Mountains in the distance, as if Seattle was pulling out all the stops.
“Let’s walk along the waterfront,” Ethan urged, hopefully. He couldn’t let this nigh
t end. Not yet. Not ever.
She nodded, her smile soft and sweet, and accepted the hand he held out to her. They walked in silence, stopping at a small park to lean against the railing and stare out at the water and beyond.
Lauren turned to him, studying him. “You never talked about your family because you probably didn’t want to tip your hand. Tell me about them now. What makes you who you are?”
Her question surprised him, but he was more than happy to accommodate her. Thinking about his family made him smile. “I’m one of the lucky ones, I guess. I have great parents. My dad, despite his many business ventures, always made time for us. My mother immersed herself in charity affairs and volunteering. We’ve all been instilled with a sense of duty to this community. We give back any way we can. As kids, we spent every Christmas day dishing up dinner at the homeless shelter, and that was only one of the many things we did.” He found himself telling her about his childhood, the boating excursions throughout Puget Sound and Canada, the family dinners his mother insisted on, the many ways they helped out in the community, and their long history in Seattle.
“Your family sounds incredible.”
“They are, which makes it hard to measure up. They have high expectations for all of us. I spent the first ten years of my adult life increasing the family fortune. But my family’s legacy has always been to give back to the community. This is how I’m giving back.” He turned to her, holding both her hands to his heart. “With the gift of hockey.”
“You think this community will embrace hockey?” She stared into his eyes, her own hazel eyes large and oddly, trusting and proud.
“Absolutely. Don’t you?”
She chewed on that for a moment and nodded, almost reluctantly. “I think so.”
“I’ll do my damnedest to help that along. I’m starting youth hockey camps next year and programs at the local rinks for kids who can’t afford hockey gear and lessons. We’ll be entrenched in the league’s charity causes along with a few of our own. We’re partnering with Seattle’s football and baseball teams, along with the women’s pro basketball team, in various charity programs.”
“You seem to have it all figured out.”
“All this was in the works long before I purchased the team. Once I made that deal with the Sleezers, there was no turning back no matter how badly I felt. I’d made the commitment, I’d see it through.”
She didn’t answer, just turned away and stared out at the water, her hands gripping the railing. He wondered if she was regretting her decision to leave.
“So where do you go now that the draft is over?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“Are you heading back to Gainesville?”
“Now that the team is gone, there’s nothing there for me.”
“If you need more money or—”
“I have plenty. You’ve been more than generous.”
“I just—”
“—don’t want me to sue you?” She finished for him, her words shocking him to the core.
“Who told you about that?” But he already knew. The only person who could’ve told her was that rat bastard Brad.
“Not important. You should know me well enough to know I’d never do that.”
“I never thought you would.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Ethan.”
“It’s not like I make a habit out of dating employees. I’m just so busy, unfortunately, that’s the only place I seem to meet decent women.”
“You might want to be more careful in the future.”
Right now he couldn’t imagine his future without Lauren, but he couldn’t ask her to stay no matter how much he wanted to plead with her. Not under the current circumstances knowing they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
There was only one way to keep her here that made sense and didn’t make sense. Even worse, Brad had come up with the idea and Brad’s ideas were way out in left field to say the least. But he couldn’t lose her. Desperation poured over him, drenching him with fear that he’d lose her forever after tonight. He couldn’t bear to lose her.
Ethan’s instincts had served him well over the years. Why stop following them now? He took the leap. The words came out in a rush of uncharacteristic insecurity.
“I want you to stay, Lauren.”
“You know that’s not possible. We just finished discussing that.”
“What if I make it possible, make it something that didn’t mess with either of our reputations?”
“How the hell would you do that? You’re good, Ethan, but you’re not that good. It is what it is.”
Ethan put his hands on her shoulders and turned her back to face him again. He rested his hands on her waist, and stared deeply into her hazel eyes, which were decidedly green right now.
“Marry me, Lauren.” He spoke with absolute conviction.
“Marry you?” Her mouth dropped open, she staggered back a step, stopped by the railing behind her. He steadied her.
“Yes. Marry me.”
“So we can continue to work together? Ethan, have you been drinking?”
“Only that bottle of wine I shared with you tonight. I’ve never been more sober. Together you and I can build something special in this city.” He liked this crazy idea more and more so he took it and ran with it.
“You’re proposing we get married so we can be business partners.” She shook her head and laughed, as if he’d lost his fucking mind. So maybe he had. Over her.
He snorted. “Hardly. Though there’d be that, too.”
She slipped away from him, hugging herself. “I can’t.”
“Why not? Take a leap of faith…”
“Faith? This from a man who misrepresented anything and everything from day one.”
“Guilty as charged. I’m so sorry, Lauren. If I could’ve handled it any other way, I would have.”
Her scowl broadcasted louder than the blast of a ferry horn. She didn’t believe one fucking word he said. “I need to go, Ethan. You’ve started a good thing here. Good luck.” She walked quickly toward her car. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk in a frenzied beat to escape from him.
Ethan ran to catch up. “Lauren, don’t go. Please.” They were almost back to the parking lot, and panic clawed at his insides.
She turned to him. “I can’t stay.” For a split second she let down her guard, and he saw the pure agony in her eyes, as if she wished things could be different.
It could. It could be different. He’d show her. He would. If only she’d stay. She unlocked her car with her key fob and reached for the door. He held it shut with his hand.
“Ethan. Please,” she implored him.
He stared into her eyes and the truth of it all hit him like a lightning bolt streaking across Puget Sound on a stormy day.
He loved her.
He fucking loved her.
“Marry me, Lauren. Please. I can’t see my life without you in it.”
“Don’t make it any worse.” Tears filled her eyes, and he stepped forward to wipe them from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
“I love you, Lauren.”
Her eyes shot wide open at the word love. “You—you can’t mean that. You can’t.”
“I do.” He spoke with bone-deep certainty.
She swallowed and shook her head. “I have to go. Don’t make this any worse.”
“Stay. Be my wife. We’ll build a hockey legacy together and raise little hockey players and good citizens.”
She shook her head, as a lone tear streamed down her face. The finality in her gaze wrote the final chapter.
Hesitating briefly, he stepped back and allowed her to open the car door. She got in and looked up at him with hazel eyes full of sorrow. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it. Can’t go through it all again.”
“I’m not Max.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I can’t.”
He tightened his lips. “If you feel that way, then I guess there’s noth
ing else to discuss. I was wrong about you—about us—if you think for a moment I would do to you what Max did.”
“But you already did, Ethan. Don’t you see? You lied to me. Over and over. Maybe you didn’t cheat on me with women but you cheated on my heart by not being straight with me, by using me.”
She shut the door and mouthed goodbye as she backed out of her parking space.
Ethan stood on the pavement and watched his future shot at happiness drive away. He didn’t know how long he stood there. When the first drops of rain hit his cheeks, he trudged toward his car. It hadn’t rained in Seattle since Lauren had arrived. How fitting was it that it was raining now that she was leaving?
And taking his heart with her.
Chapter 18—Penalty Kill
Lauren turned off her cell, her computer, her wireless, her tablet, and all the lights in the apartment. She curled into a little ball on couch, wallowed in self-pity, and alternated between sobbing hysterically and staring blindly at old movies all night. Even Horace couldn’t console her though he gave it his best shot by purring so loudly she had to crank the volume on the TV. Her eyes were scratchy from crying. Her throat scratchy. Her heart leaden with despair.
She spent two days like that.
Ethan said he loved her. He couldn’t mean it. It was just another ploy to convince her to stay. She hated playing the part of a pathetic baby, but allowed herself the luxury for two nights. Tomorrow she’d pull herself up by her laces and get back on the ice, starting with contacting a few of the local minor league teams.
Sometime during the night she fell into an exhausted sleep and awoke to pounding on her door. She startled awake and shot to a sitting position, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was past noon. She’d slept most of the morning away. As she hurried to the door before the person on the other side damaged the wood, she glanced at the wall mirror. She looked like crap with her puffy cheeks, red eyes, and wild, tangled hair. She smoothed back her hair and gathered her composure, peeking out a side window. Her aunt’s car sat in the lot.
Damn.
Reluctantly, she opened the door. Aunt Jo and her dad stood there.
Skating on Thin Ice: Seattle Sockeyes (Game On in Seattle Book 1) Page 18
