Hard Checked: Ice Kings, #4

by Lynn, Stacey

  I lift my water bottle in the air when he tells me to shake that off. Of course he hadn’t missed it.

  We just lost and it was my fault.

  Damn it.

  I stand and head to the bathrooms, stripping out of my gear enough so I can take a piss and get a minute of privacy.

  I can do this. My life, which turned to utter shit almost half a year ago is now so vastly different I almost hate getting on the plane to leave Gigi.

  I’ve had the shittiest personal year of my life and the best is on the horizon.

  Sawyer, who’s now a dad because Debbie gave birth, managed to squeeze in the delivery on our short break two weeks ago. The entire team has gone ballistic with excitement for them. We almost had to drug him to get on the plane to get his ass here. He didn’t want to leave Debbie and their new son, Abram.

  I haven’t had a baby yet, but the pull to stay with Gigi is strong enough I know this shit isn’t going to end. Not anytime soon, anyway.

  I’m pretty sure I love the woman and what I want, besides her and our baby to be healthy and happy, is to come back knowing we’re about ready to win a championship. Then I can help my team get the cup, before we have an awesome off-season together, growing closer, making love morning and night and some days in between. Where we can plan our future and enjoy ourselves.

  Mostly, I’m feeling pretty damn good about where we’re at in life, so when I stomp back on my skates into the locker room and the team is getting all fired up about kicking Vegas’s ass, I join in.

  Happily.

  Because for the first time in a long time, I actually feel happy.

  * * *

  We lose. Fifteen minutes into overtime and Joey Taylor of all the fucking players to score slides one past Maddox right between his legs.

  Shameful. All of us.

  By the time we’re off the bus on the short trip up the strip to the hotel where we’re staying, it’s safe to say we’re all exhausted. It’s after eleven o’clock but between the game and the time change, it’s surprising none of us crash on the short bus ride to the hotel.

  As we trudge off the bus, heading into the private entrance of the hotel, I’m shocked as hell when Tessa, Jason’s girlfriend, rushes to me with her cheeks flushed, iPad hugged close to her chest, and her eyes wild like she’s seen a ghost.

  “I’m so sorry, Sebastian. I tried to—”

  “What happened? Is Gigi okay? The baby?”

  Holy shit, my heart might explode.

  Tessa swears and apologizes again, gripping my forearm tight. “No. It’s not Gigi or the baby.”

  Jason has come to us, getting off the bus after me. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Madison,” Tessa whispers in a harsh tone.

  The hell?

  “What’s Madison?”

  “She’s here.” Tessa keeps whispering, pulling me away from the guys. At my back, I can feel Jason, probably Klaus and maybe a few others figuring out something’s wrong. “I tried telling her you wouldn’t want to see her, but she insists. So, she’s here. Upstairs at the Lavalier Restaurant.”

  What in the hell? There is nothing, nothing that could prepare me for this. Has she heard about Gigi? That’s not even possible. No one on the team would share anything about us to her or anyone else we might know. They certainly wouldn’t rub it in her face. And honestly, she has no reason to be pissed if that’s why she’s here.

  She left me. She divorced me.

  My feet have somehow cemented to the carpet because I can’t move when Tessa tugs on my arm again.

  “Why?” I scrub a hand over my face. “Why would she want to see me?”

  “I can tell her you’re not interested,” Jason says.

  I peel open my eyes and shake my head. “This doesn’t make sense. We’re not even married anymore.”

  That was finalized months ago because I didn’t fight it. I gave her the scraps she requested and signed everything like the good boy she expected me to be, even when I considered fighting it.

  But now? So much is different. I’m different.

  “Lavalier?”

  Tessa nods. “It’s on the second floor, and it’s not near the casino floors, so you won’t be seen.”

  “I don’t give a shit if I’m seen.”

  Tessa’s face scrunches. Next to her, Jason slides his arm over his shoulders and holds her close. He’s a lucky bastard to be able to travel with his girlfriend all the time.

  “You okay to do this, then?”

  “What. See Madison? After months with no clue why? No.” I hold out my suit coat and bag I use to carry my noise-canceling headphones. “Any chance you guys can take this to my room for me? I’ll be up later when this is done.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Tessa takes it. “I can get an extra key, no problem.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Good luck,” they both say.

  I don’t respond. There’s a rush of noise in my ears, fogging my brain as I head to the elevator. I punch the second-floor button with my knuckle, wishing I could put my fist through the metal door. There’s no reason for this, and Madison isn’t one to cause drama unnecessarily. Hell, I’ve always given her what she wanted, the divorce included.

  So, the only possible reason for her showing up in Vegas, thousands of miles from where both of us live, is if something’s wrong.

  By the time I reached the entrance to Lavalier, I’ve conjured up the worst possible scenarios. Something happened with her family. Something happened with my family. She’s sick.

  All of it means my heart is racing and my blood is boiling when I spy her in a corner booth, red hair gleaming from the chandelier hanging over the table.

  My lip curls. This whole restaurant has a romantic feel to it from the soft gray booths and candlelit light. Chandeliers drip crystals from the ceilings and cream silks curve along the walls. Servers dressed in all black with sparkling white ties carry food trays with the obnoxious white towel draped over their forearm.

  I want a beer and to get to my room and spend the night in sweats. Or meet the team at the sports bar downstairs. This pretentiousness has never appealed to me.

  Waving off the hostess who offers to assist me, I move like a rocket, straight for Madison, determined and fearful when I see her hands clasped on the table. She’s fiddling with a ring, and my feet stall, jaw dropping.

  She’s wearing her wedding ring.

  What in the hell is going on? As I stand there, gaping at her, Madison must realize attention is on her because she turns her head, notices me, and drops her hands into her lap.

  Her smile trembles. Her nervousness is clear in the way she nibbles her bottom lip, blinks rapidly.

  “Madison,” I say her name and slide into the booth across from her. There are two waters on the table, the one nearest me covered in condensation and soaking the coaster beneath. She’s been here a while. “This is a surprise.”

  Like always, she’s beautiful. Her red hair looks recently highlighted and there isn’t a strand out of place. The shirt she has on looks like silk, a bow loosely tied at the high collar at her throat, no sleeves. Her makeup looks like she could have come from a photo shoot recently. She looks like the Madison I used to know, not the one I saw in February. The only sign she’s not completely in her element is the way she scratches her nose and then crinkles it.

  Her nervous tell.

  “Thank you for being willing to see me, Sebastian. You look great. Playing incredible, I see, too.” She smiles, perfect white teeth shine through it. I remember the girl who had two crooked teeth next to her front two and a gap between those, back before driver’s licenses and braces. Still, she’s beautiful. It can’t be denied.

  Instinct urges me to pull her into my arms and hold her, tuck my chin to her shoulder to see if she still wears the gardenia-scented perfume that used to make me sneeze.

  It’s not the prevalent emotion, though, and surprise has me staying in my seat.

  She’s beautiful. Elegant.
And that’s it.

  All I see is how much different she is from Gigi who dyed her hair to match our team colors for crying out loud. These two women can’t be more different.

  When I’m with Gigi, I laugh harder and more often than I can ever remember. There’s a comfort in her presence. A simpleness.

  It’s me. She’s meant for me.

  “What are you doing here?” I drum my fingertips on the table. Now she’s finally willing to see me and talk? It’s about three months too late.

  “I’m sorry.” She blurts it out so quickly it takes me a moment to process. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. For everything.”

  She’s… sorry?

  Anger floods my veins, mixed with an acute pain so tight my stomach hurts from it. “You’re sorry? For what? Being here? Leaving me? Ignoring me? Divorcing me? Not trying to be a jerk here, Madison, but you came all this way and I’m confused. Really fucking confused.”

  She flinches and then places her hands on the table. Fingertips spread out showing a recently done French manicure, her favorite. And that ring. It catches the light from the chandelier above us and glistens.

  A snarl curls my lips and I refocus on Madison. The pain in her face. The worry.

  I love her. I do. I still love this woman, but not in that way. I hadn’t realized how much it had diminished in recent weeks, but it has. I’m still not feeling any reason to make this easier for her. She left me.

  She licks her lips and nods. “I know. I understand you’re mad.”

  “I’m not mad.” Not anymore. Pretty sure I moved passed that phase back in February when I flew to see her and she said it was over.

  “Okay. I’m seeing a therapist. And well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of work on myself over the last few months and I really, well I really wanted to come see you, and explain things now that I have more clarity, I guess.”

  “You’re seeing a therapist? That’s good.” The pain in my stomach loosens and my shoulders fall. I wanted this for her.

  “My dad said, after your visit, that I went to see a therapist or I went home to you. Those were my choices.”

  Ouch. I mean, way to go, Ben, but fucking ouch. “You chose the therapist.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, Sebastian, I really am. I’m so sorry. I was hurting so much and in so much pain and then I was so confused and lost and it just felt like… it felt like the walls were closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t think. I don’t… I don’t… I don’t know how to describe it better than that, but I just…”

  She trails off and blinks, staring at the wall next to us. I can’t pull my gaze off her. Pain laces her eyes and her posture and there’s that part of me that’s always loved her that wants to comfort her but I can’t.

  She tugs on her diamond earring, one I gave her. Our fifth anniversary. Seeing them makes me cringe. She’s decked out in my jewelry for a reason and that reason seems to settle when she says, “My therapist has helped me to start getting better, to find acceptance with everything. I guess… I want you to know that. That I think, I could now be at the place where I’m ready to accept everything won’t go the way I wanted.”

  “Madison.” It comes out as a sigh. Guilt curdles my stomach like sour milk. Softening my voice, I remind her, “You divorced me. We’re not married anymore.” She opens her mouth, but I talk over her. This is the woman I loved for years. For half my life, and yet… now that love is different. Muted. It’s changed and diminished and I don’t think it even entirely has to do with Gigi or our baby. “I would have done that. I would have waited for you and gotten you the help you needed. It kills me, it’s killing me to see you now, looking sad, but you shut me out and when I fought for us, you pushed me away. I don’t… I can forgive that, because I understand, I think I always did. But I can’t go back to that.”

  “Sebastian—”

  God. I hate hurting her. “I don’t want to go back, Mads.”

  She flinches like I’ve stabbed her, curls her hand wearing my wedding ring into her other hand and squeezes tight.

  “But I’m better. And it was a mistake. All of it was such a mistake. I was sick and not thinking clearly, and I think now, I’m getting better and I have help and know I need it.”

  “And it’s killing me to sit across from you unable to give you what you want when I spent so many years trying to give you everything I wanted. I loved you, but I can’t do this.”

  “Loved?” Her face pales and her eyes widen.

  It takes me a moment to realize what’s hurt her so much. And that’s when it all comes clear.

  I loved her. And it’s not because I’ve fallen out of love with her that makes me want to end this… it’s because I’m falling in love with Gigi.

  Because she gets me in a way others don’t. Because she lets me talk and she listens and she only offers advice if she thinks it’s worthwhile. Because she follows her dreams and can take care of herself but she lets me do it when I need to. I’m falling in love with Gigi. She might not be everything the boy I used to be thought he wanted, but because she’s everything the man I am today wants and desires—her passion, her humor, her excitement for life and hope for the future and her confidence.

  All of it calls to me. Pulls me to her.

  “I’m sorry this is hurting you. I really am. If you’re getting help and finding your happiness that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, but I don’t think… no, I’m sorry, I’ve always been honest with you. I can’t give you this.”

  “But Seb—”

  “I’ve met someone.” And God, the pain was bad before but now tears instantly swell in her eyes and she gasps such a wretched sound I hurt from it. “I’m not trying to hurt you, swear to you, Mads, you know I don’t want that, but if you came here to be honest, I need to be too. I’ve met someone, and she’s special to me.”

  Pretty sure I’m in love with her and not because of the baby. Because Gigi is life and happiness and hope and new beginnings, and goddamn, I want to call her and tell her.

  There’s no point in mentioning Gigi or the baby. I won’t hurt Madison unnecessarily.

  I lean onto the table, pressing my forearms to the table top, careful to keep my hands from hers. As much as I’d love to hold her hand and promise her things will get better, I won’t.

  “I’m glad you’ve been working on your health and you’re getting the help you need, but I’ve been working on me, too, because I didn’t have a choice, and I’ve moved on.”

  She sobs and months ago I would have vaulted over the table to wipe away her tears and promise I’d never do anything to make her cry again. But I can’t. It’s not my place anymore.

  “This was stupid of me, wasn’t it?” She pushes tears away and her chin wobbles when she asks.

  “It wasn’t stupid.” It was just three months too late. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I really am.”

  She blinks away more tears and I finally hand out the cloth napkin that’s been folded around silverware near me. She takes it from me and I relax on my bench.

  “This is goodbye then, isn’t it?”

  Goodbye was when she told me that standing in her parents’ basement when she looked a wreck. At least physically she’s back to her vibrant, healthy self. I hope the therapy continues.

  “I think it has to be.”

  She sniffs. Looks over my shoulder, still uncertain. “Can I get a hug goodbye then?”

  “Anytime.” This I can do. At least this ending is more pleasant than the last one and maybe I need this too. To know she’s okay. That we can be divorced and possibly, someday, when I’m back in Minnesota and our families run into each other, it can be pleasant.

  I slide out of the bench and then, for the first time in months, I hold out my hand to Madison. She places her palm in mine, smiling sadly at my soft touch.

  I feel nothing but fondness for the woman I loved when I hold her. When I pull her into my arms and press her gently to me, not tightly, not romantically. I hug he
r like I’d hug my mom or my sisters or one of my teammate’s girlfriends, and I know she can tell the difference because she steps back and drops her arms, clasping her hands together.

  “I see,” she says. “It really is goodbye.”

  “Yeah.” I wipe away a tear on her cheek and then I lean in, kissing her forehead. “It is, Madison. But I’m still glad you came. It’s good to see you looking healthy, knowing you’re getting the help you need.”

  “Yeah,” she cries and it comes out more of a hiccup.

  “You going to be okay? Do you… do you have a room? Or something?”

  “I’ll be fine. I don’t think I’m yours to help anymore, am I?”

  She’s not. I’d do it because I can’t not take care of her, but she’s right. And mixed signals at this point would be too painful.

  “Take care, Madison.”

  “Bye Sebastian.”

  I slide my hands into the pockets of my pants and walk out of the restaurant, straight to the elevator and back to my room.

  I’m exhausted, and it’s not from the game. And yet, I’m hopeful too, because Madison and mine’s ending might be painful and tragic and it might still clench my chest and make me hurt—but I have a future to look forward to, with a woman I love—

  And I can’t wait to get home and tell her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Gigi

  “Music bingo?” Steve asks, sounding aghast at the horror of my idea.

  “Yes. I’ve looked into this. People flock to bars for either regular bingo nights or something fun like music bingo or trivia. I think it’ll be fun.”

  He gives my dad a wide-eyed look. “I might have to find another bar.”

  I slap his shoulder, laughing as he winks at me. “You can still come and not play. Although I don’t know why you’d be such a party pooper.”

  I give him a look, barely holding back from sticking my tongue out at him.

  I’ve been spending the last few weeks while Sebastian’s traveling so much for playoffs, researching local bars in the area that draw a consistent and fun crowd, but doesn’t aim for the twenty-something club hoppers. I have no intention of turning George’s into a nightclub with flashing lights and a dee-jay, but I want to build on the small town, family and community feel I love about our area and this bar so much.