by Avery Flynn
"Lägg av, Mariam..." He regretted saying it as soon as the words flew out of his mouth. She was right. He should have met her at the airport. He'd been all set to do it until Ola smirked at him and said his girlfriend didn't need to be escorted everywhere. Micke and Tomas grinned and nodded, adding that they didn't know why he needed to bring a girl all the way from Umeå when there were plenty of willing girls on Sandhamn, the next island over. Jonas had just laughed and acted like their razzing meant nothing, but he'd done as Ola suggested to avoid being the butt of any jokes. He was still the rookie; he was still finding his feet with this crew.
"Never mind, where are we sleeping?"
He led the way, taking her weekender bag on his shoulder and holding her hand, even if her grip was not as tight as his. Ola's summer house had three small outbuildings that also faced the water. Jonas had chosen one farthest from the main house for them. It was private enough that they could pretend it was just the two of them on the island. It was minimally furnished--just a grey fleece rug on the pale wood floor, a two armchairs covered in faded grey linen and a king-size bed facing the window and the view.
"This is us."
Away from the others, she relaxed. He knew she didn't like the others very much. He wasn't so sure how much he liked them either, but they were his teammates and he needed their support during the long months of the season. Living in the US was tougher than he'd thought it would be. The game was harder, more aggressive. And Ola and the others were showing him the ropes, showing him how to be the sort of player who wouldn't fade into the background, the one who got the fans on his side and got people talking. And people were talking, calling him the Iceman, chanting his nickname whenever he cut across the ice to check an opposing player. And it felt good. He wanted to tell Mariam all this but most of all, he wanted to kiss her again, to make her remember how it felt when there was just the two of them.
He watched as she walked over to the window and took in the dark rocks leading down to the expanse of water. Sunlight touched her and warmed her skin so it glowed. She'd left her hair loose. He liked it best this way. Wild and free.
He came up behind her and held her close to him. She leaned into him, tilting her head back just enough so that their lips could touch.
"I don't want us to fight."
"Neither do I."
"I only wanted to show you what we could have one day."
"Jonas...how many times do I have to tell you I love you as you are?"
"I know..."
"I don't think you do." She turned now, so she could face him. "I don't need this...hasn't it always been the two of us?"
He nodded, but didn't trust himself to say what he was really thinking. She didn't understand. She didn't have the burdens on her that were his to bear.
"I told you once I'd make a life for us," he reminded her. His lips sought the reassurance of hers. Mariam softened a little. She hooked her index fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and steadied him. Yes, this was what he'd needed for so long, to have her close again, with no ocean and time zones separating them. He could feel her heartbeat through the thin white t-shirt she wore, could feel the soft firmness of her breasts and her taut nipples and it dragged him back to the reality of the longing he always felt for her. "We could have something like this one day."
"I don't want something like this." He held her a little tighter, afraid she would slip away again. She gasped and whispered in his ear, "All I want is a house like the one we always said we'd have...do you remember? The one in Umeå?"
Jonas nodded. How could he ever forget? He'd walked past that house so many times on his way home from hockey practice. Back then, the rink where his youth team practiced was closer to the woods than the city. The bus only took him so far, then he had to walk the rest of the way with his heavy gear bag. He hadn't noticed the house at first, but then one winter evening its windows glowed with warm, welcoming light and cast aside the November darkness. He'd stopped and watched as the family inside set up Christmas decorations. The house contrasted with the more modern houses along the road. It was an older house, probably built back in the late 1800s, and its clapboard facade had faded to a nice creamy shade of yellow. The front door was painted a pale shade of green and from it hung a wreath of spruce boughs that framed the stained glass window. The roofline of the house and the hedges bordering the garden were already strung with tiny white lights that made the snow glisten.
Something about the house made Jonas forget about what waited for him at home--his father drinking too much, his mother pretending she was not dying though the cancer treatments weren't helping. His sister Bella was struggling too, trying to be a straight-A student, fit in with the mean girls who would never accept her, and fill their mother's shoes by cooking and taking care of the house while Jonas focused on practice.
Everyone kept telling him he was destined to be a star in the US, to focus on training, but what he wanted most was for his mother's cancer to disappear so that she would be well again...and for his father to stop searching for answers in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. The family in that house looked like they never had problems. The husband didn't smother his problems with alcohol or stumble home drunk. The wife wasn't pretending that there was no cancer eating away at her. They were a normal family, he thought.
He hadn't thought about that house in months, not since Ola and the gang had shown him there was another side of life that wasn't so slow-paced and idyllic.
"That's what I want, Jonas. Us. In a house like that. Living our lives the way we want." Her words lulled him. He could see them there, celebrating Midsummer or decorating for Christmas, birthday parties and family celebrations. That creamy yellow house that had become for him the stuff of dreams.
"I don't need...all of this." Mariam reminded him. "I just want us to be together."
It was what he wanted too, but months later he'd lost her and been too caught up in his own dreams to even try to win her back.
He was still thinking about that summer as they drove to the mayor's house. All the mistakes he'd made, listening to Ola and the other players who were trying too hard to prove how cool and badass they were. They'd all lived a flashy life then, anything to get attention and prove to people that they'd hit the big time. They thought they were the bad boys of the league, tossing around hundred dollar bills at strip clubs and sleeping with as many women as they could.
Jonas shook his head as he remembered the blind items that linked him to random women, some of them true, most false. Thank God he'd left that life behind. It didn't stop the puck bunnies from still trying to claim a piece of him whenever he went out after a game, but he kept his distance. That wasn't the life he'd ever wanted. He'd never make that mistake again.
6
Mariam
"Coming, coming!" Mariam set down the stack of files she'd brought home on kitchen counter and rushed through the living room to answer the front door. It was closing in on ten in the evening and the sun was still burning bright.
"Jonas..." her voice trailed off as she took in the sight of him, standing there with his mirrored sunglasses and sexy grin. The linen suit he wore was cut to perfection, skimming the gorgeous lines of his muscular body and enhancing his inherent masculinity.
"Edwin worked his magic and I thought we could catch up." He hadn't come empty-handed. He cradled a bouquet of lilac and bird cherry in full, fragrant bloom and a bottle of very expensive champagne with his right arm while his left hand braced the door frame. He smiled down at her in that slow, sexy way she used to adore.
A rush of heat flooded her limbs as her dormant heart woke from its slumber. She opened the door a little wider and beckoned him in. "You'd better come in before the neighbors call Expressen or Aftonbladet."
"They won't," he said as he stepped inside. "They've got better things to do than worry about us."
This time, Mariam laughed. "You forget you're Mr. Hockey here. You're their Ulysses come home."
As she close
d the door, she noted how his shoulders relaxed. Maybe she wasn't the only one who was a little nervous.
"I'm glad some things don't change," Jonas said.
"What do you mean?"
"You and your literary references...I used to feel so dumb because I didn't know half of what you knew."
"You were never dumb, Jonas."
"And the house still looks the same...it makes me feel like I've come home."
She smiled at his words. Even though her parents initially weren't his biggest fan, they'd welcomed him into their home once they'd heard about his mother and saw that he wasn't the same as his father. She blinked away the memories and led the way into the kitchen. "I was going to have a glass of white wine. Would you like some?"
"I thought we could toast to meeting again with champagne," he suggested as he followed closely behind her. She could feel his presence so strongly, the nearness of him sparking every part of her. His voice still had that sexy, warm roughness. "To old times...and to new."
A smile danced over Mariam's lips as she opened the cabinet where she kept her champagne flutes. She glanced over her shoulder at Jonas. "Did you buy that at the airport or did you actually go into Systembolaget with the Cup?"
"Nope, I... liberated it from the mayor's party." Jonas took her gentle teasing in stride and flashed her a cheeky grin that reminded her of when they were teenagers.
"Ah... and you stole the good stuff too. Pol Roger...by all means, let's drink." Mariam willed herself to relax. They were just old friends, catching up. There could be nothing more to this, she reminded herself. Tomorrow he would leave again with the Cup and head back to America, where his life was now. At least they had this moment.
While Jonas uncorked the champagne, she found a vase for the lilac and bird cherry blossoms and arranged them. Their sweet scent awakened even more memories for her. Stolen kisses...a hazy summer evening spent lying in the grass, under the boughs of a lilac tree, and Mariam whispering "I love you to the moon and back..." to Jonas as he traced lazy circles along her bare arm with the tip of his index finger. And his reply? "I'll always love you more..."
Funny how she'd forgotten about that night.
Mariam tried to still her hands as she poured more champagne in their glasses. She didn't need to be nervous. She knew that. More importantly, even with all the years they'd been apart, she knew him. Some of his scars were new to her, but she knew him still. Once upon a time, she'd kissed every inch of him and he'd done the same to her, when they were both too young to know that love was not easy. How simple it had been back then to say those words and commit to memory the way he trembled under her touch when her fingertips traced those words on his skin. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
Stop it, Mariam. Stop living in the past. He might be here now, but that didn't mean this was more than a simple reunion of old friends.
"Did your sister tell you that we bumped into one another?" Mariam set the bottle of wine on the granite countertop. She'd always liked Jonas's sister, even if Bella had sometimes come across as abrasive. Mariam understood her. They'd been the misfits. She was the brown-skinned girl whose parents owned their own businesses and didn't fit the stereotype everyone had of immigrants. Jonas and his sister pretended their father wasn't drunk, wasn't fond of showing up at school causing scenes.
"She mentioned it today."
"And your father...?"
Jonas grimaced. Still a sore spot, even after ten years. He'd always avoided talking about his father. The less anyone said about Arvid Magnussen the better.
"He's still drinking?"
"I keep expecting your father to come in and interrogate me," Jonas said, changing the subject. He grinned and shook his head. His voice was a little deeper now. And when he spoke, spark flared inside her. "Do you remember that first time I came over—when you were helping me with that horrible history assignment? And your father kept checking on us in the dining room?"
How could she forget? That was the first time she'd admitted to herself that she and Jonas were more than friends. "I was so embarrassed, I just wanted him to leave us alone."
"I would have done the same if I had a daughter like you."
"Like me?" She held out a glass of wine to Jonas.
As he took the glass, their fingers brushed. "My only daughter? Who happens to be smart as a whip and so beautiful that this big lug of a guy is mooning over her? Sure, I would keep an eye on the situation, make sure he wasn't trying to rush her into something."
"Was that what you were doing?" Mariam took a careful sip of her champagne. "I thought we were doing homework."
Jonas's lips slowly curved into a smile. Whatever shadows haunted him, they disappeared when he smiled. That hard, stony expression he sometimes wore--even when they were teenagers--it melted away when he laughed, softening the sharp angles of his face and revealing the Jonas she always knew was there, kind, a bit shy, full of love.
"I just wanted to be near you." He was watching her now as he drained half of his glass in one go. He licked his lips and then set the glass down on the counter. "I used to hope you'd look my way. I was so in love with you, Mariam. Even back then...I walked by your house every single day for a year because I wanted to see you, but I didn't think you even knew I existed. So when you said you'd help me with that paper. I jumped at the chance."
She tried to hide her smile as she listened to his confession. "I saw you. I used to watch for you too."
"How much time have we wasted?"
"Did we though? Waste time, I mean." Mariam didn't trust herself to look at him as she spoke. "Maybe we just weren't ready yet. You had the hockey league, I had my studies and my career. It's not as though we've had a bad life."
It hadn't been a bad life. She'd helped so many people. Even now, with the case that had ultimately convinced her she no longer wanted to be an attorney, she'd helped someone...and she'd helped herself realize that her priorities lay elsewhere. She'd come home every evening to an elegantly appointed apartment and an empty life. She'd had friends. Men she met through colleagues and girlfriends. Sometimes Mariam thought of that period of her life as the Dark Ages. She'd lost herself in work, in mindless sex without ever committing to anyone. But...she'd reached her goals. She'd studied in London and graduated at the top of her class, she'd worked for a prestigious firm and worked on high profile cases. But love? Somehow it had passed her by, or she'd stopped looking for it.
"Did you ever regret us?"
"No, never."
"Neither did I."
They stood at the kitchen island, both of them not quite looking at the other. Why had fate picked this moment to bring them together again, Mariam wondered. There'd been so many times when she'd been in the US for work or on vacation and thought of him. The last time she'd gone to New York for a case, he'd been there too, though he was at Madison Square Garden helping his team win. She'd watched the game on TV, begging off a working dinner with her colleagues and claiming she had a migraine. For a few brief moments she'd watched and pretended that the game wasn't affecting her, that she didn't feel a tiny shiver whenever the commentators said "Magnussen".
"I still love you, Mariam."
"We don't even know each other anymore."
"Don't we? We're here now and we're talking like old friends."
"We are old friends."
"And we keep going back to what we remember."
"What's the point though, Jonas? You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"
"The Cup leaves tomorrow. I could stay." He raised his glass again and finished the last of his wine. "If you wanted me to. I could make it happen."
"What about later?" Sure, they could have a summer together, but she wasn't interested in a summer fling with Jonas. "I don't want to go back to what we had—the uncertainties, the league meddling in our relationship."
"That wouldn't happen again."
"How can you say that? How will you stop them?"
I'm telling you now, Mariam. I could s
tay if that's what you want."
"Just like that?"
He nodded. "You tell me what you want...and it's yours."
Jonas ran a hand through his blond hair. The scar on his right temple still looked raw and painful.
"Does it hurt?"
Jonas touched the scar and winced. "It's still tender."
"I watched the game." She wanted to trace her fingers over the scar. Her fingers twitched with longing. Mariam curled them into fists, then flexed them again. Anything to quell the desire. But then...why had she asked him here if she didn't want the flames to be rekindled? She still wanted him. Perhaps more now than she'd ever done in the past. It was what she'd wanted. "When that player slammed into you, and you crumbled...I wanted to cry."
"Mariam..."
"No, let me finish...you didn't move, even when the medics came out on the ice." She looked up at him now. "You didn't move for so long. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, never speak to you again. And I couldn't help it. I started bawling right then. I nearly missed when they'd said you were coming around."
She stepped around the island so now they could be on the same side. They'd spent enough time separated by an ocean, by their own careers and life choices.
"I hadn't watched a game in years and then I watch the one that inevitably brought you home again."
That was when she finally dared. She let her hand do as it wanted, reach up and touch the puckered surface of his scar. He captured her hand with his and held it there, his skin warm on hers. He turned just slightly and kissed her palm. His lips were so tender, so delicate on her skin. She took another step closer to him.
All the invisible threads that made up the fabric of their lives seemed to flare in just that moment, burning bright and pulling them closer. Those years they'd spent apart dissipated as Mariam bridged the gap and held Jonas, letting her body melt into his. Oh God, she'd missed him. The moment he wrapped his arms around her, she knew she didn't want to be anywhere else.
