by Anna Sugden
She wished desperately there had been some other way her conversation with J.B. could have gone.
The irony was that Issy and J.B. were suited in so many ways. They weren’t two halves of the same whole, as she’d read about in novels. They weren’t perfectly matched. Rather they were yin and yang. His optimism and daring; her realism and caution. His lightheartedness, her seriousness. His tendency to cut to the chase and be decisive, while she meandered, exploring and evaluating all the options.
Opposites in so many ways, yet they balanced each other perfectly.
Perhaps that was why there wasn’t a solution that suited them both. Not yet, anyway.
Issy couldn’t help feeling that timing was crucial and, right now, it was wrong. Maybe if she and J.B. had met in a few years’ time, they’d have been able to find a compromise.
Of course, if she hadn’t become pregnant when she had... No, she couldn’t think about that. The alternative would mean she didn’t have Sophia, and Issy wouldn’t trade her daughter for anything. Not to have her job and her uncomplicated life back. Not even to have J.B. back.
Issy sighed heavily and dried her eyes. What was done was done. Both she and Sophia would simply have to get used to it.
It would just be nice if doing the right thing didn’t hurt quite so much.
Eventually, Sophia cried herself out and her eyelids drooped, until her lashes formed little spiked crescents against her flushed cheeks. Issy continued to rock her daughter until she was sure she was asleep. Then she rose wearily, carried Sophia through to the nursery and laid her in her crib.
Restless, Issy wandered through her apartment. In her bedroom she found an old Ice Cats T-shirt J.B. had left behind. She picked it up, planning to toss it in the laundry basket—she’d wash it and return it to him—then changed her mind. Pulling off her clothes, she slipped the T-shirt on. Instantly, his spicy, sexy scent surrounded her. As if he’d put his arms around her.
Suddenly she couldn’t do anything more. All she wanted was to sink into the misery that still filled her. She crawled into bed and hugged her pillow, wishing it was J.B.
Over the next couple of weeks, the T-shirt became a security blanket, even though J.B.’s scent faded. Not only did it soothe her bruised heart, but it comforted Sophia, too. When Issy wore the shirt, Sophia stopped crying.
Watching hockey helped her daughter, as well. A good way to keep Sophia calm was to sit her in front of an Ice Cats’ game. Which was strange, because Sophia didn’t respond to any other TV program—not even other hockey games. Yet her father’s games captured her attention. She waved her arms and kicked her legs during his shifts. She smiled and cooed when his face appeared on the screen.
Issy started to record the games and replay them whenever Sophia grew unsettled.
She knew logically her daughter couldn’t possibly know when her father was on the ice, in the midst of five guys wearing the same uniform. But it made Sophia happy and that was all Issy cared about.
Unfortunately, watching games was painful for Issy; they emphasized her loneliness. Not for friends—Maggie and the other Cats’ partners hadn’t abandoned her when Issy and J.B. had split up—but for J.B. himself.
She was surprised by how much she missed him. Talking to him, laughing with him. Sharing her day. Sharing their daughter. She’d start to text him about something Sophia had learned to do, then would remember she couldn’t do that anymore.
Issy hadn’t appreciated how big a part of her life J.B. had become until he was no longer there. Cutting him out of her life wasn’t easy; cutting him out of her heart was impossible.
She knew he must miss Sophia terribly. But did he ever think about Issy?
When Issy tried to push away those thoughts, they came flooding back. Instead of thinking about him less, she found herself thinking about him more.
But, as she and Sophia sat in Maggie’s living room, along with a group of other Cats’ wives and girlfriends, cheering their victorious team on TV—the Ice Cats had just swept their second-round opponents—she realized that all that thinking hadn’t presented her with a solution for how she could have J.B. in her life without giving up everything she believed in and wanted. For her and for Sophia.
“Eight days until the next round starts.” Tracy rubbed her hands together, grinning wickedly. “I think Ike can squeeze in a personal day when he gets back, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Jake can, too. Thank you, hockey gods,” Maggie replied fervently.
The others laughed, echoing the sentiment. Issy joined in, even though she regretted that J.B. wouldn’t be stopping by.
And he would have. Just like the other players, he’d have taken advantage of the unexpected break and made time for “his girls.”
As she listened to the shared tales of how the different players coped with the grueling schedule and the commitment to the game and the Cats, she saw that every one of them made sacrifices, alongside their wives and girlfriends.
Just as J.B. had told her they did.
She’d assumed it was only the women who compromised, but clearly that wasn’t the case. Sure, at some points in the season, they carried the load, but at others, their men stepped up, too. And, as one of the older wives pointed out, once players retired, they had a long life ahead of them to make up for the tough times.
Was it perfect? Definitely not. Did women like Maggie and Tracy, who were so happy in their relationships, want more? Of course. Would they give up what they had in search of that perfection and more? Hell, no.
Issy hadn’t been fair to J.B. She’d been so wrapped in her own needs and fears, she’d backed him into a corner. She’d put him in an untenable position, demanding he be something he wasn’t, without offering up anything in return. Rather than being selfish, he’d done what he’d thought was best for Sophia; the decent thing. He’d walked away.
It wasn’t right to keep his daughter from him. So he couldn’t be the kind of father that she wanted for Sophia. Her daughter didn’t care. Why should Issy? Wasn’t it better that Sophia had a father, imperfect as he was, especially one who loved her, than not have one at all? She thought Emily and Joe were lucky to have a dad like Jake. The truth was that Sophia was lucky to have J.B. and it wasn’t fair to their little girl to keep her father from her.
She could call J.B. and tell him she wouldn’t keep Sophia from him. They could figure out an arrangement that suited them both.
It would be hard for her to see him, knowing they wouldn’t be together, of course. But she could put up with that if it made Sophia happy.
Even thinking about a way forward lifted Issy’s spirits for the first time in a week.
She picked up her daughter and cuddled her close, whispering in her ear, “We’re going to give you your daddy back, Bellita.”
* * *
ANOTHER SERIES WON. Another step closer to the Cup. Another celebration.
After the initial euphoria, J.B. felt a strange sense of letdown. Restlessness.
At first he’d put it down to the long layoff between games. While it had been satisfying to sweep Florida in the second round, and great to get a week for injuries to heal and batteries to be recharged, the flip side was just hanging around. A week of practices and drills—useful for maintaining fitness and skill, but not adrenaline or game sharpness.
Frankly, he’d rather be playing and competing than sitting on his ass waiting.
Even the chance to chill out and visit some of his favorite haunts hadn’t generated much enthusiasm. Somehow the night spots and people who’d always guaranteed him a good time had palled quickly. The music had been too loud, the women too desperate and the men...most were a freaking pain in the butt. He’d had enough of bristling roosters who thought they were tougher than him and arrogant cockerels who thought they were richer. Like he gave a rat’s ass.
Instead of closing down the clubs, J.B. had been among the first to leave—hell, he’d even beaten the old guys out—until he’d given up going at all.
Yeah. Something was definitely missing. It didn’t take a genius to work out who.
Sure he felt the gap left by cutting his daughter out of his life. There was a hollow ache in his heart every time he thought of her or looked at her picture. It would take a long time before he erased the feeling of her warm, tiny body snuggled up on his chest and her baby scent from his nose. But, it was losing Bellita’s mother that had unexpectedly hit J.B. hard.
Saying goodbye to a woman had never been a problem before; he’d been able to walk away without a second thought. Letting Issy go was the hardest thing he’d ever done. That was nothing compared to getting through days and nights without seeing her or holding her.
He thought about her all the time. He’d even wanted Issy to have a problem with Sophia—nothing serious—so she’d have to contact him. More pathetic, he’d considered creating excuses to contact her.
He hadn’t registered how big a part of him she’d become, until she was no longer there.
And, for once, hockey wasn’t enough.
J.B. was capable of compartmentalizing his mind, so he was totally focused on the game when he needed to be. His playoff-leading stats were proof enough of that. The problem arose when he stepped off the ice.
His curse echoed around the in-home gym. He renewed punching the heavy bag with a vengeance, determined to wipe a certain sexy brunette from his brain.
His muscles had begun to twitch and he was drenched with sweat before he admitted defeat.
J.B. caught the leather bag, then leaned his forehead against it.
“When are you going to stop being a stubborn son of a gun and start talking about it?”
Mad Dog’s quiet words made J.B. lift his head.
Taylor stood in the doorway, a bottle of water in his hand. “Enough already, bro. I’m tired of seeing you mope around this place like your prom date canceled.” Mad Dog tossed J.B. the water. “Either fix it or move on. If not for yourself, for the team. We need you to be one hundred percent on your game next Tuesday.”
J.B. took a large gulp of water. “I didn’t let you down in the last round—hello, four goals—and I won’t in the conference final.”
“The bounces went our way against the Panthers. The ice will tilt against us sometime.”
“I’ll be ready.” J.B. grabbed a towel, wiped his face and then slung it around his neck.
“Will you?”
J.B. sat on a bench and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’ve got some stuff to work through, but when the puck drops, I’ll be where I need to be.”
Taylor leaned against the treadmill and crossed his arms. “Fixed or done?”
J.B. wished he could give another answer. “I can’t fix it, so I guess I’ll be done.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
J.B. frowned. “You know the situation. There isn’t a middle ground for me and Issy.”
“Sure there is. If you’d stop being a wuss for five minutes, you’d see it.”
J.B. sighed heavily. “Enlighten me, Yoda. The problems still stand. I won’t give up hockey and I can’t be the kind of boring man Issy thinks she needs.”
“Hockey’s not the issue—it’s security. You need to convince Issy that she can trust you to be there for her.”
J.B. recalled Issy’s insistence on someone who put her first. “Ohh-kay.”
“Then, you have to get her to compromise.”
“I tried. No dice.”
“Did you show her you’re prepared to compromise?”
“About what?” He frowned.
“Commitment.” Before J.B. could argue, Taylor added, “Look around you. You’ve made a commitment to your friends, your team and even your family. You’d walk through hellfire for any one of us. Commitment is really another word for love and loyalty.”
“I guess.”
“Look at when Issy went into labor early. You didn’t blink. You leaped into action and didn’t let anything stop you getting to her side. You’d do the same again, if she needed you.” Taylor smiled. “And God help anyone who even looks sideways at Sophia.”
J.B.’s growled, epithet-laden response broadened his friend’s smile.
Mad Dog made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t.
“So I show Issy I’m prepared to commit to her and Sophia, that she can trust me to be there for them both, and she’ll suddenly decide she can put up with my career?” He shook his head. “Not gonna happen. She’ll throw the same old argument back in my face. ‘What happens if Sophia gets sick on a Tuesday in November and you’re in Winnipeg?’”
“She’ll have to accept some rough with the smooth. The Cats’ wives can help you with that. They stepped up and filled the gap before.”
“That might work once or twice, but Issy won’t keep accepting substitutes. She’s made that pretty damn clear.”
“Since when did a challenge put you off trying? Did losing the Cup last year make you not want to go for it this year?”
“Hell, no. Made me more determined.”
“There you go.” Mad Dog held his hands out, palms up. “How do you feel about winning back Issy?”
“Scared,” J.B. admitted. “And even more determined.” Then it struck him. He straightened. “There’s always another year to win the Cup. But there’s only one Issy and there may not be another chance to win her back.”
“Right.”
Adrenaline began to pump through his veins. “I know how to show her that she’s important to me. I don’t wait for June—I go to her and start the campaign to win her back now.”
“That’s my boy,” Mad Dog said proudly. “You know you have an ace up your sleeve.”
“I do?”
“Sapphie. She’s rooting for you and Issy to make it. With a smart cookie like her on your side, you can’t fail.”
J.B. cocked his head. “Nothing doing for the two of you?”
Taylor hesitated, then said firmly, “Nope. I adore her and we’re good together—even thought about taking it further—but there’s something missing. I guess, basically, we’re really great friends.”
“Is she good with that?”
“Yeah. She’s not looking for more than what we’ve got.”
An odd note in his friend’s voice had J.B. asking, “Are you good with that?”
“Pretty much. It suits me, for now, anyway.” Then he patted the doorframe. “You should get your ass in gear—you have a strategy to plan.”
J.B. let the change of subject go. “You’re right. I’m going to grab a shower, then get to it.” He laid his hand on Mad Dog’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Make sure you hand off the Cup to me when we win.”
“You got it.” J.B. laughed, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time.
Commitment is another word for love and loyalty.
J.B. paused in the middle of tossing his sweaty clothes in the laundry hamper as one word leaped out at him.
Was he in love with Issy?
He went back over all the thoughts he’d had about Issy since he’d walked out of her apartment, including those in the past hour. He evaluated each one, as carefully as if he were watching film on an opponent.
It was the last thing he expected, but the only thing that made sense.
Something clicked inside. Like that moment when he caught a puck in the sweet spot and knew without doubt it would end up in the net.
With it came a sense of happiness and completeness that he’d only ever felt twice before. The first time he’d stepped onto the ice and when he’d held his daughter in his arms.
“I love Issy,” he said out loud, testing the words on his lips. They sounded pretty damn good. “I love Issy,” he repeated.
It was more important than ever that he get his plan right. He couldn’t do it alone; he needed expert assistance. He grabbed his cell and dialed Sapphie’s number.
When she answered he said, “I need your help.”
* * *
“YOU’RE DOING THE righ
t thing.”
Sapphie’s support was a relief. Reassurance that what Issy intended to do wasn’t crazy or stupid. If anyone could spot the flaws in a plan, it was Sapphie. Her endorsement gave Issy the confidence to proceed, despite the nerves that had plagued her since deciding to bring J.B. back into her daughter’s life.
What if she’d misjudged him and he didn’t want to be involved anymore? What if it was too late and he’d already moved on?
Issy forced aside the questions that had kept her awake the past few nights. She believed in J.B.’s love for Sophia. Things would work out okay for her daughter. As for Issy...she’d have to wait and see.
Finally able to relax, and now hungry, Issy spooned some seven-layer dip onto her plate. The two friends were having an impromptu, late-afternoon picnic on Issy’s balcony. Sapphie had stopped by unexpectedly after a meeting in the city had been canceled, and had asked for her favorite comfort food, after almost a month of hotel and airline meals. She would be flying out to Chicago again in the morning.
Sophia lay in her Moses basket, just inside the sliding door, gurgling and kicking her legs, as if she also approved of her mother’s plan.
“As soon as the Cats’ Cup run is over, I’ll approach J.B.,” Issy said.
“You’re sure you want to wait?” Sapphie asked. “That’s still a month away.”
“J.B. kept asking me to leave our discussions about the future until June.” She wrinkled her nose. “We might have reached a more reasonable conclusion if I had. Anyway, this time, I’m going to do it right.”
“Makes sense.” Sapphie nodded. “I’ve only got one question for you.”
“Okay.” Issy frowned, curious.
“What about you?”
Trust Sapphie to focus on the one angle she deliberately hadn’t mentioned. “This is about me. Doing the best for Sophia is doing the best for me.”
Sapphie’s look said she didn’t buy it. “I don’t mean Issy the mother. Issy the woman deserves happiness, too.”
“I’m happy.”
“Sweetie, you’re not meant to be a lone she-wolf. You should be in a loving relationship with a husband and a family of your own.”
