by Lynda Aicher
Had to.
He tossed his bag in the truck bed and slipped into his sweltering cab. He started the engine, powering the windows down as he flicked the air conditioning onto high.
Had to.
The words cycled through his head the entire fifteen-minute drive home. He left the windows down, letting the air rush over his heated skin. He didn’t need to check his phone to know that his repeated calls and messages to Segar were still unanswered. His agent hadn’t contacted him in over a week, and that meant nothing had changed. His Glaciers-or-nothing stance had tied his agent’s hands.
Had to.
The craving stretched across his shoulders and watered in his mouth. He had to skate—that’d been true his entire life. His soul was tied to the ice, to the chilly breeze in his face, the thrill of racing toward the goal, scoring, winning.
So when had those two words—had to—changed from desire to obligation?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Can you hold her for a minute?” Scott jerked his head up, eyes wide. His sister was already lowering her newborn daughter into his arms before he could even think to protest. “I need to get the boys breakfast.”
“I can do breakfast,” he rushed to say. Hell, he’d take them all out if it got him out of holding his new niece. It didn’t matter if his knee still killed him and walking was a task he was avoiding.
“Don’t be silly.” She scowled. “Besides. I need a break.”
Scott reluctantly accepted the squirming bundle, automatically tucking his niece protectively into the crook of his arm. His eyes locked on the flushed cheeks and round face of the latest addition to his sister’s growing family. Wisps of dark hair curled around her head, and her chubby hands were fisted near her face, mouth working but silent. Big gray-blue eyes stared back at him, wonder and innocence packaged in them.
Natalie disappeared while he was mesmerized by the tiny human being. His heart beat too fast, a rush of love bursting forth. She had her mother’s chin—his chin. The little dent already visible on her small features. Would his daughter have it too?
Damn it. That was exactly why he’d avoided holding her up until now. He didn’t want to go down that path of regrets and more what-ifs.
But it wasn’t his niece’s fault.
“Hey there, sweet baby girl,” he cooed, running a finger down her soft cheek. “How are you?” She stilled at his voice, eyes widening almost imperceptibly. “I’m your Uncle Scott,” he continued. “Your mom’s older brother.”
He’d escaped down here last night after less than thirty minutes alone in his house. He’d had Jessie’s number queued up, finger hovering over his name before he’d caught himself. A change of clothes had been shoved in a bag, and he’d been on the road minutes later.
A small argument broke out in the kitchen over which cereal to have for breakfast, the boy’s voices raising before their mother cut them off. It was eerily similar to their own mother, who’d used the exact same tone and words to shut them down when they’d argued over something trivial.
“That’s all normal,” he told his niece, bouncing her gently. “Families bicker and sometimes bark at each other, but they’re here for you.” Her tiny little hand clamped around his finger, holding tight as she continued to stare at him. “At least yours will be. Me too,” he added. “I’ll always be here for you and your brothers.”
The gentle scent of baby power tickled his nose, and he had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. He’d be here for his sister’s kids, but what about his own?
His scoff was low and full of disgust. “I don’t even know if my swimmers work anymore,” he mumbled his continued doubt to the infant. “And I managed to chase off the two women I ever considered having kids with.” Her eyes drifted closed then flew back open. “Things don’t look so good for me, so you guys are the closest I’ll probably get to a family.”
“That’s not true.”
Shit. He whipped his head around, cursing himself again. Why in the hell did people keep sneaking up on him? It was driving him nuts in addition to giving him small heart attacks.
“I thought you were feeding the boys,” he grumbled, glaring at the baby instead of his sister. He didn’t want to know how much Natalie had overheard. He should’ve gone on the beer-and-ice run with his brother-in-law that morning.
She came around the sofa to sit on the coffee table in front of him. Her hair was looped back in a messy ponytail. A baby stain stood out the shoulder of her baggy button-up shirt, and the dark circles under her eyes spoke to her lack of sleep. And somehow, she still glowed. Being a wife and mother was what she’d always wanted to be, and it showed. In the welcoming feel of her house, the happy laughs of her children and the adoring looks her husband still gave her.
“Is that what you think?” she asked him, ignoring his question. “That you chased Sarah off?”
Sarah, his ex-fiancée, lived on the other side of town with her husband and two kids of her own, and Natalie was still friends with her. A fact he’d once resented but no longer had the energy to care about. At least he didn’t immediately want to cringe when he heard her name anymore.
His niece’s eyes flickered closed again, and he kept up the light bouncing even though his arm was tiring. His sister’s question didn’t deserve a response. Everyone knew he’d screwed up somehow to get her to leave days before their wedding. High school sweethearts and town golden couple broken up by what? His selfish desire to finish college instead of joining the NHL?
Whatever. It was long ago and not worth his worry. Not with so much else crowding him.
“Did you ever understand why she broke off the engagement?”
He heaved a sigh and leveled an exasperated glare at his meddling sister. “What does it matter now? It’s long done and over. Let it go. I did years ago.”
Undaunted, she brushed a lock of hair way from her face before wedging her hands between her knees. “What happened to Rachel, then? If you don’t want to talk about Sarah.”
“I already told you this.” He tried to keep the irritation from his voice, but it leaked in. “Things just didn’t work out.” He’d said it so often, he was starting to believe it himself. Almost. It was true though in the most minimalist explanation.
“So it had nothing to do with your determination to keep playing hockey, despite the fact that you can hardly walk without being in pain?”
And that one hit home. He winced, arm twitching in reflex to protect himself from the verbal attack. The ones that just kept coming no matter where he went. Why in the hell wouldn’t everyone just leave him alone? Believe in him like he needed them to do?
It was getting harder and harder to ignore what so many people around him were trying to get him to hear. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Not when there was still a chance—no matter how slim—of getting that last dream.
He breathed deep through his nose and stared at his now-sleeping niece. Could the baby hear his heart hammering so close to her ear? Would she toss accusations at him too if she could speak?
“Scott.” The plea in Natalie’s voice matched the gentle touch to his thigh. “Please. Talk to me. I’m worried. Hell, I’ve been worried for years.” She skimmed her hand down until she hit the top edge of his knee brace beneath his track pants. “You try to hide it—the pain. But I know you. I think that’s why you avoid Mom and Dad too. You don’t want any of us to know how bad it is.”
His throat was so dry he could barely collect any saliva to refresh it. His arm bounced faster, accelerating on its own as he bit down on his tongue.
“And Jessie,” she pressed. Scott’s head jerked up, eyes narrowing at her insistent gaze. “There’s only one reason why you’d be friends with him.”
Oh, hell no. There was no way he was going there. Not with his sister. He couldn’t lose her respect too. “We’ve been friends since high school.” The words were tight with his suppressed fear and rising defiance.
Her head was already shaking. “Not that close.”
She bit her lip, closed her eyes for a second. They were hard with a mother’s determination when she reopened them. “It’s no secret that Jessie’s a dealer. He’s been one since high school. And there’s only one reason why you’d still associate with him now.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Darkness closed around him, narrowed his vision to the speck of his innocent niece lying trustingly in his arms. His heart was in an all-out race to escape his chest, and the craving pranced over his scalp to dig its hooks into the need he was getting tired of resisting.
“I never knew you were so closed-mined,” he scoffed. “Or judgmental.” It was a feeble attempt to shove the focus back on her. His leg started to bounce as he forced his arm to still. He was afraid the baby would wake up if he rocked her any faster.
“And I never thought my brother would become a drug addict.”
His jaw dropped, heart lurching clear to his throat as shame and embarrassment rushed in. Heat pooled in his nape and quickly spread down his back to burn in his cramping stomach. He slammed his mouth closed. His glare should’ve melted iron with the way it blazed from him. Only his sister didn’t even flinch. She tilted her head, face passive as she waited him out.
He couldn’t decipher if it was fear or rage or shame that clamored around his chest before it clamped around his throat. Betrayal. There it was again. That he could distinguish.
“The reason Sarah broke off your engagement wasn’t because you decided to stay in college,” Natalie said, completely calm. “She wasn’t clamoring to be an NHL wife and mad at you for delaying it.” The squirrel in the conversation shift had him sprinting to keep up before he gave up and tried to shut her out. He still heard her though. “She was upset because you made the decision without her. You didn’t include her in your choice. Just like which college you wanted or the future you envisioned. She was afraid of getting stuck in a marriage where her views didn’t matter.”
That piece of information that echoed so closely to Rachel’s accusation hit him like a slap across his face. “What?” he growled, pitching forward. “Why in the hell would you think that? She’d made it clear exactly how upset she was when I told her I was going to stay in school for my degree.” His voice rose with his insistence. “The decision was for her. For our future so I’d have something to fall back on if hockey didn’t work out. So I could support her and our family. And that hadn’t been good enough for her. She wanted the damn star, not me.”
And what had Rachel wanted from him?
He jammed that question back with a vicious mental shake. Long-suppressed anger vibrated through him, and his blood roared in his ears. Above it all was the craving bastard cackling with glee as it feasted on his loss of control. Two pills would make it all better. Easier. Pain free.
Natalie cast her eyes down, pointedly checking on her daughter. That simple action brought Scott back to the here and now. He quickly glanced at his niece and sagged when he saw her still sleeping. The adrenaline rush crashed to leave him breathless. Shame raced back in to suck out his remaining righteousness.
He was so lost and he couldn’t deny it. Not to his sister. And there was no way he could admit anything to her. The mere thought of her disappointment—let alone his parents’—shattered him further. He simply couldn’t bear to see it.
Gaze averted, he handed his niece back to her mother. He rose without saying a word and left the room, avoiding eye contact. His hands shook when he shoved his shaving kit into his bag. The squeal of his nephew’s laughter shot down the hall to flay his back in a punishing strike.
His sister stood in the doorway when he slung his bag over his shoulder and turned around. His innocent baby niece was cuddled into her chest, and the sadness in Natalie’s expression was the finale on a fucktastic few weeks.
“Don’t go.” Her voice was tight with the tears that gleamed in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to push that hard. I’m just worried about you and I want you to be happy.”
His throat hurt too much to respond. It rivaled the throbbing in his knee. The one that had gotten only marginally better since yesterday. He shook his head, lips pursed as he eased past her. He didn’t need everyone’s worry. Didn’t need their concern.
He didn’t need any of them.
The front door squeaked when he yanked it open, the heat charging in to swaddle him against the cold that was sinking into his bones.
“Scott,” Natalie begged, following him down the front path. “Please don’t be like this.”
He spun on her then, thoughts racing. “What?” he barked. “Mad? Hurt? Betrayed because my sister thinks I’m a self-serving drug addict?” She flinched back, arms hunching protectively around her baby. Fucking A. His eyes widened as the last insult landed.
He would never lay a hand on her or any of her children. Never. Yet his sister was clearly afraid of him.
Fuck this. Her. Everyone.
He strode the rest of the way to his truck, back so stiff his shoulders screamed at the impossible strain. He tossed his bag on the passenger seat and refused to look toward the house. His tires squealed on the cement when he tore down the road.
Fuck what the neighbors thought. Fuck what his sister thought. What his friends thought. Rachel thought. Fuck them all.
His pulse throbbed in a roaring pace on his neck, and his knuckles protested at the grip he had on the steering wheel. His chest wanted to explode, along with his head. The pressure building within him was so huge, so damning, he didn’t know what to do with it.
How to control it.
He made a hard turn into a parking lot of a closed tax business, threw the truck into Park and lunged for his glove compartment box. Shit landed on the floor as he rifled through it, discarding the unused napkins, useless store cards, car insurance cards and everything else until it was empty. Damn it.
He sat back, chest heaving. Sweat clung to his forehead and nape, pooled under his arms. And the craving laughed. Big, rolling laughs that scraped over his eardrums and danced down his throat to knot in his stomach.
He threw the truck into Drive and tore back onto the road. He forced himself to focus on the speed limit, watch the traffic signals. A ticket would only make his life more miserable.
The highway was a hallelujah sight when he finally reached it. He jammed the cruise control into a solid eight miles an hour over the speed limit and impatiently tapped at the steering wheel when it wasn’t fast enough. His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration rumbling down his leg. He jerked it out and held down the power button without bothering to check the caller. He was done talking to people.
Done listening to their concerns and condemnations.
Done disappointing the very people he wanted most to impress.
The normal seventy-minute drive passed in a daze that made the ride seem endless. The back of his T-shirt was soaked with sweat by the time he pulled into his long driveway. The canopy of trees provided a blessed escape from the blinding sun as he tore up the narrow lane and slammed to a stop before his opening garage door.
Home. He was fucking home, and for what? So he could sit there and wallow some more? Damn the world and everyone in it?
Fuck that.
He slammed out of his truck and ducked beneath the half-opened garage door to race into his house. His heart drummed out a beat of need led by the craving that pranced at the front of his mind. The kitchen was the first to meet his destruction. Vitamin bottles crashed to the floor, food was tossed from the cupboard, a glass shattered on the counter when he knocked it from the shelf. He didn’t give a fuck.
The great room was next. Cushions were ripped from the sofa, pillows thrown across the room, drawers yanked from the end tables. Still nothing. Not one single fucking pill.
Had he really cleaned out his house that well? Or had Rachel done it before she’d left? Anger had him thundering upstairs, knee almost buckling when he landed too hard on the edge of a step. Fuck!
Pain ratcheted up his leg to spur him on. Demanded that h
e find relief. An escape. The ease that would make everything better. Right.
He was on the last drawer in his dresser, almost ready to barge into the master bathroom, when he caught the pinging rattle as he tossed a handful of socks to the carpet. His breath caught, pulse freezing the half second it took his brain to catch up. Then he was diving for the discarded socks, pawing through the pile until he landed on something solid.
Fuck yes.
He slumped against the side of his bed and dug the mint tin out from the toe of the sock. It rattled in his shaking hand when he got it out, the loose pills pinging about in a weak rendition of a rattlesnake’s tail.
The front of his shirt was soaked now, and sweat trailed down the sides of his face in rivers usually reserved for the end of a hard workout or game.
He stared at the tin, breath gasping before he popped it open. Eight oblong white pills rested against the shiny metal interior. His mouth watered instantly. The craving raged up his throat to scour over the roof of his mouth and slam into the back of his teeth.
He rubbed a hand over his lips, held it there, quickly debating. Good, bad, right, wrong, trust, betrayal, truth, lies. So many things that rotted in his gut and tore at his heart.
His hand was amazingly calm when he reached for two pills. They were familiar in his fingers, but to say they were welcoming would be going too far.
The craving buzzed down his arms to lap at the release that was now so very, very close. His nerve endings vibrated with the awareness. That want.
His hand started to shake now and his stomach cramped around everything that ate at him. Everyone that’d left him there. Alone.
Maybe all his pain and worry and concern and guilt really were for nothing, and he held the answer to all his problems in his hand.
The craving cheered for his revelation and chanted the one thing Scott knew to be true. I’ll never leave you.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The gallery was buzzing with acclamations for Carter’s work. His photographs were positioned around the open space in clusters of themes, along with single images.
