by Cari Quinn
Gavin got to Smith before he could, his broad body smacking straight into him. Smith’s body slammed into the glass, making it waver back and forth with the impact. Darren snatched the puck while Smith was occupied, turned and soared down the ice toward the Rangers’ pipes.
He didn’t slow as he dodged two Rangers, ignoring the curses that streamed from their mouths as his heart pounded hard in his ears, blocking out all other sound as he sighted the goal and slapped the puck. The loud ping off the red pipes made him growl as the Rangers took back the puck and took it back down towards Cody.
At the end of his time, he skated to the bench for the change out, Gavin Ferrara coming in behind him as two other Highlanders went out to take their place. Darren flopped on the bench. It was going to be a long game at this rate.
The game ended 4-2, a loss to the Rangers, which put Darren in an even worse mood as they left the bench. It was getting to be like last season all over again. Darren stomped back to the locker room, irritated and gloomy. All he wanted was a shower, clean clothes and to go back home. But since it was the last day of the road trip, media was going to be there in the locker room post-game.
“What the fuck was that, Moran?”
Darren glanced over at the captain, John Charbonneau as they all filed back into the locker room. “Did you forget there were other players on the ice tonight?”
Darren didn’t answer. There wasn’t an answer for him. He’d fucked up tonight. His concentration was shot. Vince was going to have his balls for breakfast.
Charbonneau wasn’t done yelling, but luckily, he didn’t have a chance to continue. Media streamed into the locker room, each of them crowding Charbonneau, asking for quotes, and explanations. Charbonneau handled them like the champ he was. Darren couldn’t help but wish he was half the legend that John Charbonneau was. Maybe then he wouldn’t have fucked up with Valerie. Or maybe he’d know how to fix it. Or maybe he’d never have been in this position in the first place.
He sunk on the bench as he took off his equipment. Val was exactly the kind of woman his mother would love. Hell, she was exactly the kind of woman he loved. That he did love. But something had to give. Either he needed to get his focus back on track by fixing this… whatever it was with her, or he needed to cut her loose so he could function. The idea of the latter left him with a painful hole in his heart. She was his good luck charm.
He glanced over at Charbonneau.
The older player had his hands on his hips as he spoke. “I thought the game started out pretty well. First two periods were, uh… we were really taking it to them, but the end was a little weak on defense and we let a few slide through. We’ve got some new players this year, and it’s a learning curve, and we’re going to take what we’ve learned tonight and apply it to future games, and hopefully come out on top.”
One of the reporters shoved a smartphone into the bouquet of microphones and smartphones and recording equipment in front of Charbonneau. Darren recognized him from one of the largest papers, but couldn’t place the name. “Is it true you’re retiring after this season?”
Charbonneau laughed. “I’m in the best shape of my life. No plans for retiring any time soon.” He flashed his Charbonneau grin, and gestured to Coach Rogers. “I’m sure anything else, Coach Rogers can tell you. I’m going to humbly step out so I can wash tonight’s game off my skin.” The reporters chuckled a little but in seconds had forgotten about Charbonneau in favor of drilling the coach instead.
Charbonneau paused as he walked past Darren. He glanced down and whispered out of earshot of the media. “You and I aren’t done, Moran.”
“I don’t have an answer for you, John.”
“This isn’t you. You’re better than this. Something’s up with you and I want to know what.”
He strode away, and Darren leaned back against the cubbies behind him. His game was suffering. He had to fix this. With Val. Without her. It didn’t matter. The game mattered. But it did matter. The idea of not having Valerie Chase around made him want to bang his head into the wall. Somehow, in the short few weeks, she’d gotten into his head, his mind, his heart. He couldn’t even play a decent game of hockey without her inserting herself on him like she belonged there.
Jenkins was right. She was a distraction.
But she was a distraction he couldn’t let go.
Chapter Eleven
Valerie should have been happy. The bar was busier than ever, which meant she was making money during a time in which she needed it badly. The Highlanders were on the road a lot, which kept them too busy to come to the bar. Darren hadn’t shown his face in nearly two weeks.
It was almost everything she wanted.
If she could just find another job before she had to move back home to Dallas. Moving back in with Mom and Dad for a few months wasn’t something she looked forward to doing. Her mother had already started making plans for her. It was a nightmare in the making. In a fit of insanity, she’d called Vince Jenkins and rescheduled the interview.
She was almost tempted to cancel it again. Did she really want to work with hockey players and their families? Did she really want to be that close to Darren Moran and not be able to touch him?
Valerie leaned against the bar top on her elbows, her eyes glued to the screen as the Texas Highlanders took the ice in the second period. She’d never paid attention to the sports games other than a quick check of the score before. But since being with Darren, and even now that they weren’t together anymore, she was getting into the games now. Hockey was actually pretty interesting, even with the body slams into the glass that made her cringe. She was surprised there weren’t more injuries than there were. But it explained the occasional cuts and abrasions Darren had sometimes sported.
She’d made a mess of things with him.
Fear had driven her actions the night of the benefit. Fear of not knowing what her life would be like, fear of love destroying what order she had left in her life, of seeing Emery and knowing that she’d been let go for something so trivial. She was a mess now, far from the ordered life she’d once had. Darren had created a longing in her, one that wouldn’t be silenced and then left her with the fall out.
Except that she was the one who had done the leaving.
Now she was dreading the day Darren walked back through that door. She knew he would eventually. It was inevitable. This was why she’d always avoided entanglements with customers. Hell, this was why she’d always avoided relationships. They didn’t fit with where she wanted to be. They complicated her plans, spun things out of control. And with her own livelihood up in the air, she didn’t need to lose any more of that control.
On the screen, Darren slapped the puck toward the goal, but it ricocheted off the post. Three of his team converged on the puck, but as soon as one of them had it, they fanned out into a wide triangle. The fourth worked his way toward the goal. The view of the camera was too far out to see who was who without knowing their numbers, and she didn’t know them by heart.
The camera switched angles, to a closer one, as Darren stole the puck and bolted down the ice. Valerie lifted her heels off the floor and leaned toward the screen as he flew down the ice. She wished the camera was closer so she could see the concentrated grimace on Darren’s face she knew had to be there.
She liked the way his tongue pushed around his mouth guard. How he had it half hanging out of his mouth when he was focused. That much she could see from where the camera was. And when it was closer as he skated to the bench, she could also see the dark circles under his eyes.
Was he not sleeping? Didn’t he know that the loss of sleep led to many different health risks, like obesity or heart failure? He could have a stroke. What if he had one on the ice while playing?
Someone should tell him. Someone that wasn’t her, because he’d never listen to her now. As Darren sailed along the boards, she tried not to think about how his muscles, under all that gear, must have been flexing and contracting in different ways. Or about how
graceful he looked, even on the TV, or how at home on the ice he looked. He veered from the boards, about to make a run on the goal, when a member of the other team slammed into him, thrusting his weight into Darren. His body hit the glass with a thunk, loud even through the TV.
“Oh, damn!” A couple of guys exclaimed as they watched Darren hit the glass. “That was a good hit!”
She started to turn from the TV when the bar started cheering loudly. She glanced back at the TV. Darren had dropped his gloves and was circling with the player that hit him. A second later, he lunged for the other player, his fist slamming into his opponent’s face. His opponent’s head snapped to the side, but it barely fazed him.
In the bar, everyone was cheering them on, but Val didn’t like it. She’d seen his hockey fights before. This wasn’t like that. His face was fierce and horrific, animalism taking over, like it had the night Darren had gotten in the bar fight.
Both men grabbed at each other’s jerseys, circling in an aggressive testosterone-riddled dance as each of them swung wildly at each other. Darren found another opening and started pummeling the guy. His lip curled up in anger as the camera snapped to a closer view. His opponent fell to the ice and Darren followed him down, not letting up until the refs forcibly pulled him off the downed man.
The announcers relayed the entire ugly scene in gruesome facts about the number of penalties Darren had incurred in the last two weeks. Their speculation as to the cause was laughable, citing exhaustion or frustration over the losing streak the Highlanders were in.
It had started the next day after the benefit.
Valerie stared at Darren’s face, ignoring the announcers and the comments of her bar patrons. His face was flushed cherry red, vein bulging from his forehead as he argued with the refs. His arms waved wildly. This wasn’t the easy, level-headed Darren she knew. This Darren was argumentative, hot-headed, and aggressive.
She turned toward the man sitting at the bar next to her. “Does he always fight like that? Is that normal?”
He sipped his beer and pointed at the screen. “That right there is his penalty minutes for the last two weeks. That boy is frustrated about something. He’s almost doubled the number of minutes he had at the same time last year. And he was a shitty player last year.” He shrugged. “I almost think they should have traded him when they had the chance instead of buying into another five year contract.”
“Another contract?” She blinked. Darren hadn’t mentioned he was getting renewed.
“Yep. They announced it a few days ago. Looks like Moran’s retiring with the Highlanders.” He laughed. “The way he’s playing tonight, they might regret that decision.”
She turned away from the TV, guilt infusing her conscience. She hadn’t spoken to Darren since the benefit. She’d believed that it was best. He didn’t need someone like her, someone who didn’t have her life together.
She glanced back at the TV. As Darren skated to the penalty box and the TV showed him flopping on the bench, Val wondered if that was indeed true, or if she was simply fooling herself.
* * *
Darren tossed his gear into his bag, his collar burning against his skin. He’d been out of sorts since he left home two weeks ago. But it hadn’t ever affected his game like this before. Maybe right after he caught his wife fucking around, but it had gotten better when he’d started talking to Valerie. Now she was gone, and he was right back where he started, playing like shit.
He was missing his good luck charm.
“Hey, Moran!”
He turned toward the door as his coach came back in from the media circus beyond the doors. They’d chased all reporters from the locker room, allowing them only to stand outside the door. Darren was glad for at least the small reprieve, but after four losses, no one was in a good mood anymore.
The older man loosened his tie and tossed his notebook on a nearby bench. “Do you realize just how much shit you caused, hothead?”
“Sorry, Coach,” he muttered. This definitely had not been his best night ever.
“You’re fucking sorry?” The coach yelled. “You gave those fucking Flyers an unnecessary power play because of your little stunt. It cost us the game.”
“Coach—”
“Shut the fuck up and listen.” He unbuttoned his jacket and stood with his hands on his hips. “We’re no longer leading the division now, which makes it that much harder to win the conference, if we can even get there. You’re head wasn’t in the game tonight, Moran.”
“Coach, I—”
“Shut. Up.”
Darren stared at the coach. The sheer pissedoffedness on the man’s face surprised him.
“We’re going to pass this one off as a bad night for you, even though you’ve had a string of fucked up games this month. Whatever has crawled up your ass, get it out before the home game on Saturday night. This kind of shit ain’t happening again, or I’m taking you off the line-up.” He stalked out without another word, leaving Darren feeling incredibly alone in a room full of men.
Darren threw his towel into the cubby. In a fit of anger, he slammed his hand against the wooden cubby. Coach Rogers was right. He wasn’t playing right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Exasperated, he flopped on the bench. He leaned over and covered his face with his hands.
“Dude, what is up with you?”
Darren glanced to the side, where Cody stood in a towel, his shaggy hair wet and dripping over his bare torso. Cody had played one of his best games, despite the fact that Darren hadn’t covered his ass like he should have. Guilt filled his veins with cold.
“I don’t know,” he lied. “Fucking bad night.”
“It’s that chick, ain’t it?” Cody grinned when Darren didn’t answer. “I knew it! She’s got you all knotted up and shit.” Cody got dressed as Darren shook his head. “Come on, man. It’s just a girl. She ain’t worth losing your head over.”
Darren rolled his eyes, but his tone came out dead. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“You need to fix this. Because it does matter. You’re playing like shit, and your focus is nil. I don’t want to see your career bottom out like this. It was better after Angela moved out and you started hanging out with the bar girl.”
“You don’t—”
“It was better because she was there. She’s your good luck charm, D. Don’t fuck that up. Besides, I don’t want to have to find a new bar because you fucked the wait staff. So fix it.”
“How do I do that, genius?”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being married, it’s that women have strange quirks. We don’t always understand them, but they’re there.” Cody’s eyes clouded a moment. He cleared his throat. “And how we deal with them can make or break us.”
Darren didn’t reply immediately. Was that why Val had gotten upset? Because he hadn’t understood her quirks?
He picked up the wet towel from the cubby and threw it back at Darren, hitting him in the face. “See ya on the plane.” He shrugged on the suit jacket, picked up his gear, and left the room.
Fix it. Yeah, that was easy.
Darren finished getting dressed in silence except for the other guys rustling around. Their low voices filled the room while he mulled over what Cody said. He would be back in Texas in a few hours. Back in the same city as his elusive cocktail waitress.
All he knew for sure was his game started sucking the second she was out of his life. He had to fix it, as Cody had put it. He needed her back, so he could win again. Hell, it wasn’t even about the game. He needed her. He hadn’t realized how integral to his life she’d become until she was gone.
He zipped his gear bag shut, and headed back out. The media had cleared out, thankfully. Only a few stragglers remained, but he just nodded and pushed his way through them. The last thing he needed was for Valerie to see his ugly mug on the TV, especially after his behavior on the ice tonight.
No, he needed to talk to her in person, without letting her run from him. Bec
ause he knew now that not only did his career depend on it, but his sanity. The woman was quite simply, driving him insane.
* * *
Valerie muttered obscenities under her breath as Nick and Jen flirted in the corner. As she laid out her tips from the night, meager as they were, she tried to tune out the cute little murmurings.
Nick smiled as he leaned in and gently stole a kiss from Jen’s lips. Val wanted to hurl because of how sweet they were being. Any other time, she’d have been overjoyed to see Nick happy. After his wife left him and Zoey, he deserved some happiness. And now that Zoey was an adult and mostly away at college, it was time to focus on him. It was a good thing.
It didn’t mean she had to like that his “focus” happened to be in the bar where she could see it.
She was being a Bitter Betty, and she knew it. Just because her relationship didn’t work out didn’t mean Nick couldn’t be happy. She felt like he was throwing it in her face.
She stared down at her arranged and sorted bills. What a pitiful night. She’d only made half of what she normally did. She was already in the worst mood, but this put her at nearly a thousand less than she needed for bills that month.
Nick snatched up a twenty, dangling it over Val like fish bait. She glared at him, unaware that he’d even moved from Jen’s lips. “Stop it.”
“What would you do-oo-oo, for a twenty?” He sang to the tune of the Klondike bar jingle.
“Nick, that’s not funny.”
He chuckled and dropped the twenty back on her stack, in the wrong direction. “You’re too sensitive.”
“And you’re an asshole.” She tossed her dirty wash rag at his face and flipped the bill so it matched the others.
Nick ducked and started loading up his small dishwasher behind the bar, his nonchalant words pouring from his mouth. “You’ve been kind of distracted, Val. You doing all right?”
“I’m fine. It was just a bad night.”
“You’ve been having a lot of bad nights lately.”
