by Cari Quinn
The blood rushed from her head, and the room spun around her. She moved to the nearest chair and sat down before her legs gave out. “How?”
“It doesn’t matter how.” He snapped his laptop closed and stuffed it into a computer sleeve.
“Ben, I know—”
“Shut up, Hailey. Just shut the hell up.” His chest expanded, and each breath seemed to seethe through his clenched teeth. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
Her shock evaporated, and a surge of anger that matched his stiffened her bones. She set the scrapbook on the table and jumped up from the chair. “What do you mean, you don’t want to hear my excuses? You’re the one who denied ever knowing me.”
“What the…?” His brows furrowed in confusion for a few seconds before sliding back into a mask of fury. “Don’t you even try that bullshit on me.”
“It’s not bullshit.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?” He put his laptop and iPad in his briefcase and added it to the growing pile of stuff. “Were you ever going to tell me about him?”
“I was.”
“When? After you’d used me to get on an Olympic team?”
“You. Mother. Fucking. Bastard.” Her rage boiled over, and she crossed the space between them in a red haze. Her fist connected with his cheekbone with a satisfying whack. A sting of pain coursed through her hand, but it was worth it to see his head snap back. She tried to follow it up with another punch, but he blocked her jab with his massive hands and held them prisoner. She wrestled against him, kicking his shins and aiming her knee for his crotch.
“That’s enough.” In a quick move, he twirled her around and pressed her back against his chest. Her arms remained locked in front of her, crossed over her chest like a straightjacket. “Calm down before you injure yourself and miss out on your tryout.”
“Not until you let me get a word in edgewise.” She writhed against him, stomping his feet and ramming her bottom against him. She was just about to bite his hands when he released her. She whirled around and backed away out of his reach. A small twinge of satisfaction bloomed inside her when she saw the bruise forming under his eye. “How dare you accuse me of using you?”
“Why didn’t you tell me I had a son?”
Oh, shit! Her jaw fell lax, and she struggled to breathe.
“Don’t you think I had a right to know about him, preferably before he died?”
A sob rioted inside her, pounding to break free of her defenses. But she couldn’t cry in front of him. She couldn’t let him know how much he’d hurt her, how much he was still hurting her. “I tried to tell you.”
“When? Just now?”
“No, you egotistical asshole. I tried to tell you years ago, once I finally realized who you were. I sent letter after letter to you through the Whales, but you never answered.”
“What are you talking about? I never got any letters from you.”
“I sent them. In fact, I even got a reply to one of them from your PR manager.” She pulled the letter out from the very back of the scrapbook and held it up for him to see.
“You probably made that up to cover your ass.” He waved it away and narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, did Cindy tip you off this afternoon? Was it enough time to come up with a defense strategy?”
“What does Cindy have to do with this?”
“At least she had the balls to tell me about Zach when you didn’t.”
She crumpled the note in her hand, her anger flickering to her stepmother for a brief second before coming back to Ben. She’d deal with Cindy later. Right now, she needed to put Ben in his place. “I came here tonight to tell you about him.”
“Well, it’s too late. I’ve already seen you for the person you really are.” He hoisted his gear bag and carried it out the front door.
She followed him out to his Land Rover. “Why are you acting this way?”
“How did you expect me to act after I learned I had a son I knew nothing about?”
Her heart hammered in her chest as though it were saying I told you so over and over again. She let her arms hang limply at her sides, the fight leaving her as she acknowledged what she’d known all along. “Just like this.”
The sob threatened to take her over once again, but she swallowed it down and stumbled back. “The reason I didn’t tell you when we first started spending time together was because I was still trying to see if you’d known about him before he died. And when I realized you hadn’t, I was too scared you’d leave me when you found out.” She pointed to his half-packed SUV. “And I was right.”
His face remained unreadable, but he didn’t argue with her, didn’t try to refute her claim.
“You talk about wanting a second chance, but you’re not willing to give me one, eh? And you know what? It doesn’t matter.” A rogue tear trickled out of her eye and down her cheek. “Zach’s dead. There isn’t a day that goes by where I wouldn’t give anything to change that fact, but there’s nothing I can do to bring him back. All I have left of him are memories of a child who loved the game as much as we do and a promise I intend to keep, with or without you.”
Each word chipped away at the guilt she’d been carrying for so long, and she didn’t want to stop. “So go ahead. Leave. Go back to your protective bubble in Vancouver and forget about me once again. I’ll go on without you just like I did the last time. But don’t you ever accuse me of trying to hide your son from you while he was still alive.”
She spun around on her heel and jumped into her Jeep, throwing it in reverse, and drove away from Ben like he was a demolition site that was about to explode. Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks as she drove down the mountain. She should’ve known better than to let him back into her life. Nine years ago, he’d left her alone and pregnant. Now, he was leaving her with a huge hole in her chest where her heart once belonged. She’d let herself fall in love with him, and his rejection had devastated her far more than it had before.
When she turned onto her dad’s property, she continued past her trailer and stopped at his house. After dredging up all the painful memories from Zach’s death, she wasn’t ready to go back into the home she’d shared with him. Instead, she curled up on the front porch and cried until her eyes turned gritty. The swing rocked and creaked as Dozer, her dad’s golden retriever, hopped up next to her. She hugged him close and ruffled his silky fur until the last of her grief and frustration had seeped out of her.
She’d finally told Ben the truth, and he’d still left her.
So much for second chances.
Chapter Fifteen
Ben crawled out of bed and raked his fingers through his hair. Dawn was creeping over the mountains to light up the Vancouver skyline, but it was just a reminder of how little he’d slept. Every time he had closed his eyes, he kept seeing the anguish in Hailey’s face when she’d told him to leave. And even though his mind told him she was just playing him, that her tears were all part of her deception, the ache in his chest disagreed.
Now, part of him wanted to take back all the harsh words, even though he knew he couldn’t. He punched his pillow instead. What was said was said, and he doubted even an apology would set things right for either of them.
The reality of it still hadn’t set in. He’d had a son, a child that was his flesh and bone, and he’d never known about him. He’d spent most of the drive back to Vancouver last night replaying that one night they had been together and wondering how she’d gotten pregnant in the first place. She’d said she’d been on the pill, and he’d used a condom. The only thing that stood out as odd was how empty the condom had been afterward. Maybe there had been a leak. It certainly made her claim that he was the father more plausible.
No, there was no denying Zach was his child. Every time he opened that scrapbook she’d left at his cabin and saw a picture of the kid, he knew the boy was his. Then he was forced to shut it before the grief became unbearable. In the span of a few hours, he’d learned he was a father and that his son was de
ad. Now he was struggling to stay in survival mode.
A hot shower washed away his fatigue, but not the questions that lingered. She’d brought that scrapbook to him for a reason. Maybe Cindy had told her about their conversation in the grocery store. Maybe she hadn’t. But it appeared that Hailey had planned on coming clean last night.
All I have left of him are memories of a child who loved the game as much as we do and a promise I intend to keep, with or without you.
Her words revived the ache inside him with a new fervor, and he banged his fist against the shower wall. He didn’t even have that. And he wanted to know about Zach. He’d wanted to know about his son, to know if he’d loved hockey like they did, to ask if he had ever wondered about his father. But instead of asking the one person who could tell him these things, he’d accused her of using him, of deceiving him. And in doing so, he’d lost the one woman he’d never been able to forget.
Way to go, Kelly. You’re oh-for-two with Hailey.
Did guys like him ever get a third chance?
By the time he’d dried off, he’d formed a new plan of attack. Something about Hailey had always tempted him to act outside his usual demeanor, but now it was more important than ever to remember why he liked to sit back and put everything together before acting. She’d given him a few pieces of a puzzle, and maybe if he could solve it, he’d find a solution to the questions that plagued his conscience.
Step one was finding out the truth behind the letter she’d left crumpled on the floor. At first glance, it looked legit. It was on the Vancouver Whales team letterhead, and it was signed by Larry, the guy in charge of the team’s public relations. Larry was the one who sorted through their mail and filtered out all the threats before passing on all the letters from their adoring fans. But it didn’t explain why Larry would write her back like that when he’d never asked Ben about her in the first place.
Ben picked up the letter and read it one more time. Time to start digging up the truth.
* * *
“Ben,” Larry said with a welcoming smile on his face as Ben stepped into his office. “How good to see you again. Mac tells me you’re planning on returning to the team for another season. You have no idea how happy the fans will be to know you’ll be back.”
“If I can clear my physical, I want to play.” His breath hitched after he realized what he’d just said. Hailey had been right about him all along. He loved the game, but he’d needed her to convince him to get back out on the ice. The ache in his chest deepened. “I was wondering if you can answer a question for me.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
He pulled out the letter and handed it to Larry. “Did you send this letter?”
Larry pulled out his reading glasses and scanned the piece of paper. “Oh, yeah, I remember this lady. A real nut case.”
His gut tightened. “What do you mean?”
“She probably sent about twenty letters asking to speak with you. Some kind of crazy puck bunny, if you ask me.” He handed the letter back and went to the filing cabinet. “I even saved them in case we needed to issue a restraining order.”
His fingers turned icy cold while his mind kept whispering Oh shit, oh shit, over and over again.
“Yeah, here we go.” Larry pulled out a thick file folder. “Hailey Erikson. Seems maybe I was a little conservative in my estimate. There are probably fifty letters in here.”
Fuck!
Larry spread the folder open on his desk for Ben to look through. “Here’s the first letter she sent five years ago, about a month after you’d started with the team.”
The evidence hit him like a punch to the gut, and it took every ounce of his strength not to double over from the intensity of the blow. She’d been telling the truth. He flipped through the letters, checking the dates of each one. Every month, she asked for the same thing—a chance to speak to him. Only the last letter was different. It begged to speak him and tell him about his son who was dying.
“That’s the one that triggered me to finally respond to her. She was trying to play on our sympathies with the whole dying son bit, but I know you, Ben. You’re not the type to knock a girl up and not know about it. So I sent her that letter, and she shut up.”
A ball of fire formed in the pit of his chest. His breathing quickened, and his blood simmered. His fingers bit into his palms. Ben fought to stay calm as he said, “She was telling the truth.”
Larry took a step back and stuttered, “W-w-what? I mean, shit, Ben, I had no idea.”
Ben closed the file folder and shoved it into the PR manager’s hands. “I wish you’d asked me about this before sending that letter. Maybe then, I could’ve met my son before he died.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, Ben. I truly am.”
“Yeah, well, that can’t change what’s been done.” Including what he’d said to Hailey. He left Larry’s office feeling like he was the biggest asshole on the planet, and he doubted a simple apology would be enough to win her back. He’d blown it.
He found no peace when he returned home. The scrapbook on the table kept mocking him, reminding him of what a jerk he’d been. But it also reminded him of a lost opportunity. Hailey had memories. All he had were pictures. He finally sat down and opened the scrapbook. The first page held a birth announcement.
The space for the father’s name was blank, and a knife twisted in his chest. What had Hailey gone through, carrying and delivering Zach by herself? What had she told people when they asked who the father was?
Shame blurred his vision when he realized that the guy who’d done her wrong was him. Not only had he left her with a child to raise on her own, but her pregnancy and single motherhood had ruined her Olympic dreams. No wonder she hadn’t tried out for the Vancouver games. She’d been too busy taking care of a dying child and trying to explain to him why his father was never around.
He reached for his phone and pulled up her number, but he couldn’t bring himself to hit send. He’d fucked up—badly. And until he found a way to ask for her forgiveness, he was stuck wallowing in this personal hell of regret.
He flipped the page and found a picture of a glowing Hailey smiling down at her newborn son. The ache burned through him. He wanted to have been there, to see the happiness in her face as she’d held their child. And he might have missed it with Zach, but there was still time for that.
“Damn,” he whispered and sat back in his chair, rubbing his stubble-lined cheek. He still wanted a future with her, now more than ever.
Somewhere during all this, he’d fallen in love with her.
And he had no clue how to win her back. But he could work on a strategy to do so, starting with learning everything he could about his son.
He continued to flip through the scrapbook’s pages, through his son’s first steps, his first time on the ice, his first day of school, and his first hockey game. Then the pictures took on a darker tone. Zach’s thick black hair disappeared, first shaven with a jagged scar running across his scalp, and then gone altogether from chemo. His face went from bloated to gaunt, and every picture seemed to involve some piece of medical equipment in the frame. An IV, a feeding tube, a series of wires stuck to his bald head.
But one thing remained constant—that bright, dimpled smile never faded, no matter how sick he appeared.
The last few pages of photos all seemed to have been taken from the same hospital room. He recognized the Vancouver skyline in the window, and a curse fell from his lips. His son had been so close, and he’d never known about him. One of the last photos showed Zach posing with his teammate, Patrick, and a spark of hope flared inside him.
Ben snatched the photo from the page and called Patrick. “Hey, are you in town?”
“Sure I am. You finally decided to stop being a recluse?”
“Yeah.” He stared at the picture as he asked, “Can you meet me for dinner at the Grill tonight?”
“No problem, Ben. I’d love to fill you in on everything that’s happened since you’
ve been gone. Is eight good?”
“I’m looking forward to it.” And I’m looking forward to hearing what you can tell me about my son.
He hung up and carefully stowed the photograph in the back of his wallet, energized by the start of putting a new plan in motion. Maybe he still had a chance to know his son after all.
* * *
Patrick was leaning against the bar, downing a longneck when Ben arrived. His teammate gave him a warm handshake that turned into a playful check. “No cane. You must be doing better.”
Even though it felt great, Ben grimaced and grabbed his knee.
Patrick’s eyes bugged out. “Oh, damn, I didn’t—”
“Relax—I was just messing with you.” He pointed the nearly empty beer bottle. “I see you got started without me.”
“Just warming up.” He finished the beer and pointed to the bruise that had appeared under Ben’s eye after last night. “What happened to you?”
“Had a run-in with the Gordie Howe wannabe.” There was no way he admitting to his teammate that a woman had decked him.
The hostess came up to them with a stack of menus and led them through the dimly lit restaurant to a table in the back. Loud music competed with the blaring TVs, and as they passed some of the tables, a fan would shout, “Go Whales,” to them. Patrick soaked up the attention, flashing a grin and giving the fans a thumbs-up, but Ben had never been one for the spotlight. It was one of the things that had drawn him to the goalie position. His face was hidden behind a mask for most of the game, and most people had to do a double-take when they caught him off the ice.
The Global Grill was a glorified sports bar in Yaletown, where the beautiful and famous of Vancouver liked to congregate. Groups of women in their sexiest outfits vied for the attention of the actors and athletes who frequented the restaurant, but none of them compared to Hailey. She was real, genuine, and had a passion for everything she did, unlike most of these gold diggers. After watching them size Patrick up, he was glad their table was relatively hidden from the main scene and far away from the throbbing dance music.
