The Final Move

by Victoria Denault

  The fact that I don’t feel completely horrible about it is what makes it worse. It actually felt kind of incredible. Damn, I missed fucking. I missed orgasms that didn’t come from my hand. Ashleigh and I had sex once in the last seven months. But now I feel like it made me just like Ashleigh. All those horrible words I had called her over the last week apply to me too now. My stomach lurches and I place my hand flat on the marble wall as I hunch forward and puke onto the shower floor.

  Chapter 12

  Callie

  I skitter to a halt on the dark granite floor in the kitchen. Devin turns slowly from his seat at the kitchen island and gives me a half smile. He’s in jeans, no shirt and bare feet. I allow my eyes a moment to slide down his sculpted shoulders, rippled stomach and then linger on his dark blond happy trail. A ripple of desire skids down my spine and pools below my belly. Fuck, he’s sexy as hell, even all fucked up like he clearly is now.

  “It’s seven in the morning. What are you doing up?” My eyes dart around the room looking for the source of the animal noises last night. Either she left or she’s still asleep in his bed. He looks a little sick.

  “What are you looking for?” he asks me tentatively.

  I shrug and make my way around the breakfast bar to the counter by the window, next to the stove. I pull two bananas and some apples out of the fruit bowl I filled yesterday and then head to the fridge and dig out grapes and the big tub of fat-free vanilla Greek yogurt. Then I grab the cutting board and head back to the breakfast bar and sit down beside him.

  “I didn’t know we had fruit,” he murmurs, sipping his glass of water.

  “We didn’t,” I reply, and start coring and chopping the fruit. “So I bought some—and some other essentials.”

  “Oh.”

  “So you never answered me,” I remind him casually. “Why are you up so early?”

  He’s silent so I give him a sideways glance. His hazel eyes find mine and immediately look away. I guess he wouldn’t be Devin if he weren’t wracked with guilt, I think to myself and almost smile sadly.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he mutters and swallows more water.

  I nod and finish chopping the fruit, then hop off the chair and walk over to the cupboard to grab a bowl. I swing by the pantry and grab the low-fat granola mix I also bought.

  “I thought you’d be exhausted after last night’s workout,” I say simply as I scoop some yogurt into the bowl.

  “WHAT?” he sputters, and I don’t have to look at him to know he looks horrified.

  “Is she still upstairs sleeping it off or did you give her the boot?” I glance at him just long enough to give him a soft smile.

  “She’s gone.” His voice is sheepish and slightly sad.

  “Was she walking like she’d ridden a horse for four days?” I joke and wink at him as I pour some granola into the bowl on top of the yogurt. “Because your cock looks even bigger than it did when I was seventeen and it sounded like you were really giving it to her.”

  “Holy fuck, Callie! Seriously?!” The words rush from him in an embarrassed whisper. I stare at him. His face starts turning crimson and he covers it with his hands, leaning his elbows on the black granite counter in front of him.

  “And you were eighteen, not seventeen,” he reminds me through his hands.

  “So are you as big a mess on the inside as you look on the outside?” I venture quietly as I mix the granola with the yogurt.

  “Pretty much,” he responds, hands still over his face. “I’m not any better than Ashleigh now.”

  “Yeah, that’s a load of shit,” I argue swiftly and slide the fruit from the cutting board into the bowl. “Ashleigh betrayed a trust and violated a marriage contract.”

  “So did I.”

  “It was already decimated,” I correct him firmly and then I lighten my tone. “And besides, do you have feelings for the lucky lady from last night?”

  His hands drop from his face. “No.”

  “Then you are not even close to the same as your ex-wife,” I tell him resolutely. “You stuck your dick in a girl after your wife ruined your marriage. Big fucking deal. Ashleigh shared her heart with someone, not just an orgasm, while she was committed to you. Now eat.”

  “This is for me?” He looks down at the bowl I just made.

  “Yes. I get meals on set,” I explain and hop back off the chair. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Conner will be here,” he says, still more glum than I would like.

  “I’ll make something yummy for dinner,” I announce and move to leave.

  He reaches out and grabs my hand. His grip is firm but gentle, and when our eyes connect, that ripple of desire turns into a tidal wave. I suddenly want to ask him if he was satisfied last night and if he wasn’t, I volunteer as tribute.

  He leans a little closer and suddenly I wonder if desire is contagious, because he’s looking at me like I assume I’m looking at him. “Thanks.”

  “Of course.” I smile. He lets go of my hand and I hurry out the door.

  Chapter 13

  Devin

  Loops is watching me carefully as I get dressed back into my street clothes after practice. He’s been staring at me through most of practice and I’m done waiting for him to spit it out.

  “I’m in a slump,” I say as I pull my shirt over my head. “Happens to everyone.”

  “Dev, come on,” Loops says quietly, his eyes darting around to make sure the last few guys left in the locker room aren’t listening. “It’s more than that and I know you know it.”

  “It’s not.”

  “You’ve had slumps before. This is an all-out free fall,” Loops tells me. “And I’m not just talking about on the ice.”

  I turn and stare at him but say nothing. He looks concerned and it makes me angry.

  “I’ve been trying to give you space after that whole thing with Luc showing up at my house in the middle of the night but…” He swallows and searches for the right words. “I think maybe you should talk about it.”

  “Nothing to talk about,” I reply curtly and grab my baseball cap out of my locker. “I have to go. I have Conner tonight.”

  “Devin.”

  “Look, Loops.” I turn and face him and try to contain my anger. “Talking to you isn’t going to help. You’re happily married with a perfect family and you couldn’t possibly relate.”

  He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

  “And the coach spent an hour riding my ass this morning, so trust me, I know I have to get my shit together,” I tell him flatly. My cell starts buzzing in my pocket. I pull it out and see HOME on the call display. I hold it up. “Now excuse me while I deal with my cheating wife.”

  I storm out of the locker room and head down the hall.

  “Is Conner okay?” I say into the phone without so much as a hello.

  “Devin. It’s your mother.” I’m confused for a second but it’s promptly replaced with panic. My mother is at my house, here in New York. The house I don’t live in anymore. “Your father and I are here with Ashleigh and Conner.”

  “Okay” is all I say, because what else can I do?

  “Okay?” she mimics, stupefied.

  “Meet me at my place.” I pause. “My other place. Ashleigh can tell you the address.”

  “Devin, I don’t think—”

  “I’m not going over there, Mom, so your option is stay with her or come to my house,” I say firmly. “This isn’t your problem to fix.”

  “See you shortly,” she says with a hard snap to each word. It’s the same way she talked to me when I was a teenager and she didn’t like my attitude.

  Twenty minutes later, as I turn onto my street, I’m so nervous I want to puke. My dad and son are sitting on the stoop. I can hear Conner chattering away and I know he’s playing a game of I Spy as they look out at the park across the street. My mother is pacing on the sidewalk below them, arms crossed and a heavy scowl creasing her normally serene, fair face. Her blu
e eyes lock on me as I walk toward them and the frown deepens.

  She doesn’t reach to hug me like she usually does. Instead she just stands and scowls. I scowl back. “What are you doing here?”

  “You play Jordan tomorrow night. We always try to come to the games you two play together,” she reminds me, something that’s been happening since my middle brother joined me in the league. I should have been prepared for this. I completely forgot we were playing the Winterhawks.

  I nod at my mother curtly. “Right. Did you ring the bell or try the door?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  I was hoping Callie would talk to them before I got here. If she’s in the brownstone, she didn’t see them out front. The one time I’m banking on her big mouth to ease this for me and it didn’t happen. Fuck. My. Life.

  “Come inside,” I say quietly.

  Conner grins at me as I climb the stairs toward him. He looks so excited he could burst. I can’t help but smile back at him and scoop him out of my father’s arms. This kid, I remind myself, was worth marrying the wrong girl for. I swing open the door to my rental, and my father lifts his graying eyebrow because it was unlocked and there is a pile of high-heeled shoes and boots by the door as we cross the threshold.

  “Someone else living here?” he asks in a tone coated in shock and dripping with condemnation.

  “Yeah,” I say sharply. “But it’s not what you think. Thanks for having faith in me, though, Dad.”

  “Devin,” my mother chastises and I ignore her.

  “Hey! I’m home!” I call out.

  I hear footsteps and heavy breathing. Callie rounds the corner from the kitchen holding a bottle of water up to her lips. She’s wearing a tight gray tank top and a pair of tiny running shorts. Her long, chestnut hair is pulled back in a high ponytail and there’s a slick sheen to her smooth skin. Her back is to us and she’s swaying her curvy little hips to whatever is pouring out of her earbuds and into her ears. I have an instant, uncontrollable urge to still those hips with my hands and glide my lips over the damp skin on her neck.

  Before I can quell the urge and calmly tap her on the shoulder, she spins—part of her little dance—and her eyes widen in shock when she sees her audience. I literally see what her brain is processing all over her face—fear because my parents are here, shock because she knows they must know and relief because she’s happy she’s not hiding this for me anymore.

  “Donna! Wyatt! Oh my God! Hi!” She runs toward them and skitters to a halt short of a hug. “I’m disgusting. I just had a run.”

  “I don’t care in the least,” my dad replies and pulls her into a hug. “How are you, sweetheart?”

  I know my mom loves the girls equally, but I think my dad has always had the softest spot for Callie. She hugs him back and she’s smiling from ear to ear. She’s so beautiful when she lets all her defenses down like that.

  “I’m great! I didn’t know you were coming!” she says and her eyes scoot to me quizzically as Donna hugs her too, despite the sweat. “Did Luc talk to you?”

  My dad glances over at me and frowns. “Luc knows about this?”

  “Who else knows?” my mother wants to know.

  “Callie told Luc and Rose when she found out,” I inform them. “I don’t know who they’ve told.”

  “They’ve told no one,” Callie assures everyone. “I told them to keep quiet.”

  My mother sighs again. Conner interrupts and asks if he can watch his favorite Disney movie for the hundredth time. I take him into the living room and turn on his movie as he settles on the couch. I walk back into the kitchen and find my mother and Callie whispering at the island.

  “Look, you can talk about it with me if you want, but you can’t talk about me with everyone else, okay?” I say flatly to my mom.

  My father shakes his head ruefully from his position at the kitchen table. “Kind of hard to talk about it with you when you don’t tell us about it.”

  “Ashleigh…” I glance toward the living room and lower my voice. “Ashleigh doesn’t want more kids. She hates my job. She wants a husband that is home by six every night and spends weekends barbequing and gardening or whatever. That can’t be me. We all know that.”

  They’re silent for a long minute. My mom looks so sad it’s devastating. My dad just looks disappointed.

  “How is he doing?” my dad asks, nodding his head toward the living room.

  “He’s doing better,” I say and look at Callie. “It’s helped to have Callie here. She fixed up his room and she helps me stay positive around him. She also makes sure we both eat properly.”

  My parents turn to look at Callie, who looks suddenly uncomfortable with the attention. My mom takes her hand and gives it a grateful squeeze. She just shrugs. “Speaking of eating, I’ve got a chicken in the oven that should be big enough for all of us. And I was thinking mashed potatoes and some salad?”

  “Sounds great.” My dad nods and smiles.

  “I’ll just jump into the shower real quick,” she says, starting toward the hall.

  “I’ll start the potatoes, honey,” my mom volunteers.

  For a few tense moments I watch my mom gather the potatoes and putter around my kitchen. My dad is just staring at me. Finally I stand up. “Can you keep an eye on Con while I go upstairs for a second?”

  My dad nods and I head into the hall and climb the stairs two at a time. I knock lightly on Callie’s door. She opens it in nothing but a towel—a small towel that barely skims the top of her thighs.

  “Hey,” she says, her big brown eyes wide with innocence. “I didn’t tell them. I swear.”

  “I know,” I say and sigh.

  She opens her door a little wider and I step in. “I have never seen my dad look so disappointed in my entire fucking life.”

  “Because you weren’t there when I told them Jessie moved to Arizona without saying good-bye,” she explains, her expression darkening at the memory. “As soon as the words left my mouth, your dad turned to where Jordan was sitting in your kitchen and gave him the exact same look. It was awesome back then. Now, not so much.”

  I suddenly feel exhausted—and incredibly frustrated. I run a hand through my hair and let my body sag against the wall behind me. She tilts her head a little and gives me a concerned look. “If Wyatt knew what she did to you, he’d stop looking so disappointed.”

  “Yeah, then he’d look at me with pity. I’ll take the disappointment,” I reply firmly.

  “Do you need me to move out? I can grab a hotel,” she suggests suddenly. “After dinner I’ll pack up and they can stay here with you.”

  I shake my head. “No. They can stay in the same hotel as Jordy’s team. It’ll be fine. I’d rather you were here than them right now. I can’t handle the stares.”

  She just nods and pulls her hair out of its ponytail. I try not to focus on the hem of the towel as it lifts ever so slightly, revealing even more of her long, lean legs.

  “Will you come with them to the game tomorrow night?” I ask, trying not to sound as desperate as I am. “I want you to keep them company and keep them from obsessing about this.”

  “Of course.” She gives me a little snarky grin. “Can I wear your jersey and scream your name and make a sign that says ‘Garrison Can I Hold Your Stick?’”

  I laugh at that. Genuinely laugh. It feels completely unnatural. “Is that a sex reference?”

  “Yup! I saw some girl waving it in the stands at the last game of yours that I watched on TV,” she explains. “You really should look up in the stands every now and then. It would be good for your ego.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I smile softly and then decide to hug her.

  I reach out and pull her into me. The fluffy blue towel is soft under my arms and as I bury my face in her neck, I inhale—she may have gone for a long, sweaty run but she somehow still smells good—something fruity and warm. She wraps her arms around my neck and holds on tightly.

  We stay like that for a lon
g moment. It feels so fucking good. When I feel a slight tingle in my pants, I realize it’s starting to feel too good and pull back. She looks flushed but I assume it’s still from her run.

  “I meant what I said down there. You make this easier,” I tell her.

  She smiles. “It’s because I’m awesome.”

  I laugh. “And modest.”

  I close the door and head back downstairs to face the sad and disappointed stares again.

  Chapter 14

  Callie

  I get home with just enough time to change before Donna and Wyatt pick me up for the Barons game against the Winterhawks. Today went great at work and now, after working twelve straight days, I am off for two whole days. I have been looking forward to exploring New York City and catching up on sleep.

  I drop my keys on the front table and dart up the stairs. Devin is already at the rink. I throw open the door to my room and pull off my shirt. I kick off my leggings and walk over to the closet. I had unpacked most of my stuff now. I grab my girls-cut Barons T-shirt, pull it on and match it with my favorite jeans and a pair of brown leather high-heeled boots. I decide to refresh my makeup and pull my hair from its ponytail, adding a little styling creme to it to give it a tousled look.

  Who knows? Maybe I’ll find a hockey fan who’s as cute as a player. Although it’s hard to top Devin and his teammates. Maybe I can find Jordy after the game and get him to introduce me to that French Canadian hottie from his team, Sebastian Deveau.

  Donna and Wyatt are pulling into the driveway just as I hit the front hall and peek out the window. I head outside and into the backseat of the truck. They both smile at me.

  “How is your new job going?” Wyatt asks me as he drives through the busy Brooklyn streets toward the hockey arena.

  “Good! I really like the crew,” I tell him honestly as I watch the scenery blur by. “My assistant is fantastic and even the cast are pretty cool kids. I was worried because sometimes actors can be head cases but they all seem to be great. They’re not squawking about the wardrobe at all.”