Face Off (The Baltimore Banners Book 10)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Maggie shifted on the bench, her gaze too intent, seeing too much as she studied Cindy. She took a deep breath, a wobbly smile on her face. “I was just talking about dating, seeing where things went with you two. I guess I must have missed a few things if you’re already thinking about kids.”

  Cindy’s mouth snapped shut and she looked away, her face heating. Had she given away too much?

  It didn’t matter, not when nothing could come of it. She took a deep breath and sagged against the bench. She dropped her gaze to her lap and picked at the cuticle of her thumb, wondering how much to tell Maggie.

  Did it matter? No, it didn’t.

  She took another deep breath, let the words out in a rush. “Ethan told me he loved me.”

  Silence greeted the confession, a silence that went on for so long that Cindy turned her head and frowned. Maggie was frowning as well, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed. Cindy sat back, caught off-guard by the ferocity in her friend’s eyes.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Because I’m trying to convince myself not to hit you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because you need some sense smacked into you. Cindy, I don’t understand. You and Ethan are perfect for each other. You always have been. And if he loves you…how can you just throw that away?”

  “I’m not throwing—”

  “Really? What did you say when he told you?”

  “I—” Cindy’s mouth snapped closed and she looked away, the night replaying in her mind. Ethan, telling her he loved her. Then kissing her, silencing her when she hadn’t even known what to say.

  No, that wasn’t true. She had wanted to tell him how she felt, to say she loved him, too. But she couldn’t, was afraid to say it. And then there was no need for words, not while they made love.

  And then it was too late, the moment passed. Or had it? She frowned, remembering the shadows playing in Ethan’s eyes as they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Had it been too late? Could she have said something then?

  No. Because what she told Maggie had been the truth: she couldn’t do that to Ethan, couldn’t saddle him with so many unknowns. He deserved better.

  “You didn’t say anything, did you? Didn’t even tell him your concerns.”

  Cindy shook her head, afraid to look at Maggie, afraid of the disappointment she was certain she’d see.

  “I have a question for you and I want you to answer honestly.”

  Cindy lifted her head, not quite meeting Maggie’s gaze as she nodded. “Okay.”

  “If nothing had changed after St. Thomas—if you hadn’t been diagnosed with MDD—what would you have done? Would you have kept seeing Ethan?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “And if things kept going and he told you he loved you, what would you have done?”

  “I would have told him how I feel.”

  “Which is?”

  “That I—” Cindy’s voice cracked and she had to swallow, clear her throat. “That I love him.”

  Maggie reached out, placed her hand on Cindy’s shoulder and squeezed. Cindy looked up, saw the sad smile on Maggie’s face. “Then why is now any different? Why would you deny yourself the chance to be happy?”

  “Because it is different. Everything is different now.”

  “No, Cindy, it’s not. You’re still you, the same person you’ve always been. Don’t use everything you’ve been through the last few months as an excuse to hide from happiness.”

  “Excuse? How can you say that, knowing what happened? You saw me, you know what I went through—”

  “I know. I did. And that’s not how I meant it. You know me, know I would never think that.”

  “Then why did you—”

  “Because I think you’re afraid to take a chance on yourself. You always have been. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always shied away from relationships, always worried about everyone else instead. Don’t let fear take away this chance. Don’t throw this away because of what you think might happen.”

  “It’s not that easy. And it’s not fair to Ethan—”

  “You keep saying that. But have you even talked to him about it? Told him how you feel? Have you even given him a chance to make his own decision?”

  “I—” Cindy hesitated, not knowing what to say. Then she slowly shook her head.

  “Then don’t you think you should, instead of making the decision for him?”

  “What if I do, and end up losing him as a friend?”

  Maggie gave her shoulder another squeeze, her eyes soft and understanding. “What if you do and gain so much more than a friend?”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I don’t give a fuck who you fucking think you are. You ever fucking even look at my niece again and I will fucking break your fucking legs. You got that?”

  Ethan leaned against the boards, the stick held loosely in his right hand. He spun it back and forth, tapped the blade against the ice, then glanced over his shoulder. Coach LeBlanc was standing behind the bench, his beefy arms crossed in front of his wide chest. A scowl creased his face, the scar glowing bright red. He leaned to the side, spit, then said something to Coach Stephenson. The other man shrugged, his gaze never leaving the fiasco unfolding on the ice.

  Ethan glanced around, realized that everyone was watching the fiasco. It was kind of hard not to, not with all the yelling and screaming.

  Dillon leaned closer, a wry grin on his face. “You think he’ll actually do it?”

  “No. No way. He’d be crazy if he did.” Ethan shook his head but there was no hiding the doubt in his voice. Mat Herron slid to a stop next to them, spraying snow over Dillon’s legs.

  “What the fuck?”

  Mat glanced down then quickly looked back at up at Dillon. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking.”

  “No shit.”

  “I can’t believe Coach has let it go for this long. I mean, dude, really? Not cool.” He flipped his stick upside down, planting the butt end against the ice then resting his arms on the blade. “I’m glad Nicole left already. She doesn’t need to be hearing this shit.”

  “Really? Like she’s never heard that kind of language before.” Dillon leaned over and knocked Mat’s stick from under him. The other man stumbled, quickly regained his balance, then shot a frown at Dillon.

  “Dude. What the fuck did you do that for? And no, I don’t talk like that around her.”

  “Not unless you guys are doing one of your photo shoots, right?” Derek nudged Mat and damn if he didn’t almost fall again. His face turned bright red, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to stammer out a response.

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Let it go, Porn King. It’s not like it’s a big secret.”

  “Seriously. Especially after you had to show off all those fucking pictures at JP’s wedding.” Derek ran a gloved hand across his eyes then shuddered. “I still get nightmares remembering it and it’s been, what—almost two years?”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  “Whatever…dude.”

  Dillon moved between Mat and Derek then nodded toward the end of the ice. The yelling hadn’t ceased, not even close. “So. My money’s on Ian.”

  Ethan tilted his head, studying the confrontation. Only inches separated Ian and Corbin, the two of them in each other’s faces. Most of the yelling was coming from Ian, his voice moving up a decibel or two each time he shoved his finger against Corbin’s chest. But Corbin was holding his own, refusing to back down.

  Randy Michaels and Nikolai Petrovich both stood nearby, casually leaning against the boards behind the net—no doubt ready to intervene if things really did get physical.

  “I don’t know.” Ethan shifted his stick from one hand to the other. “Corbin’s pretty much taking it in stride. And the kid has pretty fast reflexes. I wouldn’t count him out just yet.”

  “Maybe. But Ian is fucking pissed.”

  Derek glanced over. “Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you be? It was
his fucking niece.”

  Mat frowned then shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, the way I hear it, they just ran into each other and he offered to buy her a coffee. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

  “Are you fucking high? How can you not see anything wrong with that? She’s Ian niece! That makes her off-limits, period.”

  “Not to mention that she’s only eighteen.”

  “Maybe. But Corbin’s only twenty so it’s not like there’s a huge age difference, you know?”

  “Christ, Herron. You’re a fucking moron.”

  Mat narrowed his eyes at Derek. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter how old either one of them is. She’s still Ian’s niece. Which means she’s still off-limits.”

  Ethan ignored Derek and Mat’s bickering and glanced over his shoulder once more. Coach LeBlanc still hadn’t moved and Ethan wondered again how long he’d let the confrontation go on.

  Probably until both men got it out of their systems—which could be a really long time, considering how pissed Ian was. Ethan sighed again, wishing they would just wrap things up.

  Dillon nudged him. “What’s your problem?”

  “Me? I don’t have a problem.”

  “You look like there’s someplace else you’d rather be. What’s up with that?”

  “There is. I have an appointment with my accountant this afternoon. If they don’t wrap this shit up, I’m going to be late.”

  “Your accountant? For what?”

  Ethan shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I’m looking at some investment property. Maybe.”

  “You finally going to move out of that crappy condo and into something more modern?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with my condo?”

  “Nothing, just harassing you.” Dillon grinned and propped his elbow against the boards. “So what are you looking at?”

  “Nothing. Not yet. Just getting a feel for something, that’s all.”

  Dillon narrowed his eyes, studying him. Ethan carefully avoided his gaze, not wanting to discuss the details. It wasn’t a definite thing, not even close. And if he even hinted at it, Dillon would call him a crazy fool.

  And he’d be right. Maybe.

  No, he couldn’t think like that. So what if the idea was a little crazy? Not a little—a lot. Big deal. And he hadn’t made a final decision yet, not even close. He still had to see what his accountant said, then talk to the real estate agent and work out more details. Nothing was going to happen that fast—he had plenty of time to change his mind.

  Not that he’d even made up his mind, not really.

  Except yeah, he mostly had. If he could find just the right thing.

  “Hey! Stop zoning.” Ethan flinched as a hand waved in front of his face. He didn’t bother to hide his scowl from Dillon.

  “What?”

  “I asked if you booked the flight to St. Thomas for All-Star break yet. You are still going with us, right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m going. And not yet.” Ethan looked away, pretending to focus on his skate as he knocked it with his stick. “I, uh, I’ll make the flight reservations tomorrow. I wanted to check and, uh, see if maybe Cindy wanted to go with me.”

  “Seriously? You think that’s a good idea?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “‘Why not?’ I’ll tell you why not.” Dillon leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Because she might not want to go. She might not be ready to go. Have you thought of that?”

  “What do you mean, not ready?”

  “Just what I said. She doesn’t like crowds, doesn’t like people touching her. You know that.”

  “She’s gotten better—”

  “That doesn’t mean you can shove her onto a crowded plane filled with total strangers! You don’t think that might freak her out a bit? Ethan, think. She may never be better. Not completely. When are you going to get your head out of your ass and figure that out?”

  “You fucking think I don’t know that? I do. And I don’t give a fuck, okay? I don’t care.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” Dillon blew out a deep breath and lowered his voice even more. “Listen, I know you care about her. Hell, Maggie and I swore there was something going on between the two of you from the very beginning.”

  “I told you, nothing happened until—”

  “St. Thomas. Yeah, I know. Have you even told her how you feel?”

  Ethan refused to look up. How could he, when he knew the answer would be written so clearly on his face? It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t look at Dillon. Somehow, the other man knew. He blew out another breath and shook his head.

  “Fuck. Well. What did she say?”

  “Nothing.” Ethan finally looked at him, not bothering to hide the misery he was certain showed in his eyes. “She didn’t say anything, okay?”

  “Nothing? At all?”

  “No, nothing. Now let it go.”

  “Maybe that should tell you she’s not ready. Maybe you’re the one who needs to let it go. At least for now.”

  “Not happening, okay? I want her to know I’m there for her. No matter what.”

  “I hope the fuck you know what you’re doing.”

  Ethan was ready to reply, to tell Dillon that he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. But Coach LeBlanc must have had enough of the scuffle going on between Ian and Corbin because he stormed across the ice, blowing the whistle the entire time.

  “That’s it. I’ve had it.” He moved between Ian and Corbin, separating them. “All of you need to cool the fuck off. We’ve got three games before the fucking break and I need all of you focused. Laps. Everyone. Now.”

  Fuck! Ethan shot a scowl toward the offending pair, not bothering to hide his impatience. He wasn’t the only one who was pissed, either. But all it took was one look from Sonny for the grumblings to stop and the feet to start moving.

  He readjusted the helmet on his head and took off down the ice, moving away from Dillon so he wouldn’t have to listen to any more advice. He didn’t need advice, no matter how well-intended it was. He knew what he was doing, no matter what Dillon thought.

  Just like he knew he might never get what he wanted. But he didn’t give a fuck and he wouldn’t stop trying. Not when it came to Cindy. Not when she mattered so much to him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ethan rolled the fork back and forth against the placemat, realized what he was doing, and pulled his hand away. He glanced across the table, wondering if Cindy had noticed. No, she hadn’t. She was still sitting there, pushing the food around her plate without really eating it.

  Worry wrapped around him as he studied her. Her face wasn’t pale, she wasn’t fidgeting—except for pushing the food around. She didn’t look tired or—and Christ, he hated to use the word, didn’t even like thinking it—depressed. If things were getting worse, if she was slipping back into the blackness she had tried to describe to him, wouldn’t she look different than she did? He didn’t know, had no idea what signs to look for. She had told him that it had been happening in St. Thomas—before then, even—just little slides here and there, things that didn’t seem quite right. But he thought she had been fine in St. Thomas, hadn’t noticed anything wrong at all.

  No, that wasn’t exactly true. Now that he thought about it, there had been one or two times where she had seemed…preoccupied. Maybe a little tired. But he hadn’t paid any attention, just chalked it up to too much sun and sand along with too many late nights.

  Was she slipping now? How would he be able to tell? Would Cindy even know if it started to happen again? And if she was slipping back into that hole, what could he do to help her?

  Or maybe he should stop reading into things, stop thinking the worst. Maybe she just wasn’t in a talkative mood—something he could definitely relate to, given the conversations he’d had with his accountant and the real estate agent.

  The finances part was good. Better than good. Why wouldn’t it be? He didn’t spend mon
ey, not like some of the guys did, especially the younger ones. He didn’t need to. The condo hadn’t been expensive and was completely paid off. He helped out with some of the finances back home but even that didn’t amount to much. His investments were strong and diversified, growing daily. So yeah, his financial situation was great.

  The real estate situation…not so much.

  He brushed a hand against his chest at the memory of his last conversation with the agent. Fuck, it still made his heart stammer in his chest whenever he thought about it. He hadn’t been expecting some of the figures the agent had been throwing around. Not even close. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

  Ethan pushed those worries away for now. He’d find something, he knew that. And he’d swallow and bite the bullet and that would be that. Because it would be worth it, that much he was positive about.

  Maybe.

  He let his gaze drift back to Cindy, noticed she was still pushing the food around. He forced a smile to his face and nudged her foot under the table.

  “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “Hm?” She looked up, her eyes unfocused. She blinked then shook her head, a ghost of a smile teasing her mouth, there and gone too quick. “No, it’s not bad.”

  “You sure about that? Because I don’t think you’ve even tasted it yet. I mean, I know I’m not a gourmet cook, not even close. But it’s spaghetti and garlic bread. Even I can’t mess that up.”

  She smiled again, a little longer this time, then twirled some spaghetti onto her fork and took a bite. He watched her throat move as she swallowed, waited to see if she would smile again.

  Or at least pretend to.

  Her gaze met his across the table and yes, she even smiled, just another small one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not bad.”

  “See? Told you I couldn’t mess it up.” He took a bite of his own, washed it down with a swallow of beer. Cindy was focused on her own meal, not looking at him. He cleared his throat, lowering his gaze to the brown bottle in his hand.

  “So. I was wondering. Have you, uh, talked to Maggie at all?”

  Cindy started choking, her eyes going wide as her gaze darted to his. She reached for her glass of water, took a long swallow, then coughed. Once. Twice. Once more. Ethan was halfway out of his chair when she waved him off and shook her head. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and shook her head again.