Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  It looked like McVicker was going to get his chance to start after all.

  Alex could barely wrap his head around Sergei’s loss. He’d only met Lena two or three times over the years, but each time he was struck by her beauty and charm. It hadn’t surprised him when she had become as big a star in Hollywood as she was back in Russia.

  That she was gone now was almost inconceivable, and the way she’d died so avoidable and infuriating. A drunk driver had crashed his Humvee into her car on the way home from a New Year’s Eve party. The man in the car with her was another actor most people assumed was the father of her babies.

  But he wasn’t, was he? It was Sergei. And now Sergei was flying them down to Los Angeles for the funeral of his friend to decide what was going to happen to the babies.

  Sergei’s babies. Sergei’s children.

  It had been so much easier for Alex to wrap his head around when they were merely pictures in a frame, or a pile of Christmas presents to be mailed. Sergei had sent some picture books in Russian. Two Baby’s First Christmas ornaments with their names and the year engraved on them.

  But now they were real. Alex was going to get to touch them, to hold them. The thought was overwhelming, terrifying. Alex felt like the most self-centered person in the world, but all he could think about was how much their lives were about to change.

  Sergei was barely functional. Alex had been the one to make the phone calls back and forth between the GM and Lena’s best friend Julie, who seemed to be the one with the most information. Due to privacy laws, neither the hospital nor the lawyer would speak to Alex directly. And after confirming the tragic news, Sergei flat-out refused to speak to anyone else.

  Alex understood the need for legal privacy laws, but right now they were making his life more difficult at a terrible time. If something happened to Sergei, would he even be able to get information? Would anyone even think to call him?

  Alex had wanted to call his mother, but if he called in the middle of the night, she would think he was dead, somehow. And then she would fly out immediately and he couldn’t deal with that right now. But soon.

  The pilot announced their approach to LAX, and Alex grabbed Sergei’s hand. He’d been silent and pale the entire flight. Back at SEATAC airport, Alex had had to discreetly wave a few fans away despite the middle of the night departure. There wasn’t any way for Sergei to travel incognito; he was too big, too recognizable. Alex hoped Sergei would be more anonymous at LAX, and the passengers more blasé about celebrity sightings.

  Sergei slept-walked through the landing and disembarkment. He seemed surprised to find himself being directed into a car. “Bags?” he asked, looking around the inside of the Town Car as if he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there.

  “In the trunk,” Alex answered. They only had carry-ons. Alex had packed for both of them. Anything he’d forgotten, they could buy new.

  Sergei hadn’t let go of Alex’s hand the entire time. If he contributed nothing else to Sergei’s life, at least Alex could remind him that he wasn’t alone.

  “Where are we going?” Sergei asked squinting out the window at the early morning sun.

  “To Lena’s house.” He and Julie had discussed it.

  “Are we staying there?” Sergei looked pained at the thought.

  “I wasn’t sure what you would want to do, so I made reservations at the nearest hotel. We don’t have to choose yet.”

  Sergei nodded, and didn’t say another word the rest of the drive. Alex would have given every dime to know what he was thinking, but since he wasn’t ready to share his tumultuous thoughts either, he didn’t press the issue.

  The automatic gate slid open and they drove down the driveway to Lena’s surprisingly modest canyon home. A young woman in jeans and a t-shirt met them at the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked as wiped-out as Alex felt

  “Julie?” Alex asked as he exited the car.

  “Yes, and you must be Alex.” She hugged him, then turned to Sergei.

  “Sergei Ivanovich, I am so, so sorry. Lena spoke so highly of you.”

  Sergei nodded. “She did the same for you.” He pushed his hair back from his face with both hands. “Can we see the babies?”

  “Of course.” Reaching for Sergei’s suitcase, she motioned them into the house. “They’re sleeping.”

  Alex got the impression of a cozy, well-loved house as they followed Julie to the babies’ bedroom.

  Alex stopped in the doorway to give Sergei a moment alone, but Sergei reached back for his hand. “Please, Lyosha.” They tiptoed over to the crib as silently as possible.

  The babies slept curled around each in much the same way as Torvill and Dean did.

  “They won’t sleep separately,” Julie whispered. “There’s no point in even trying.”

  They were beautiful. Big, healthy babies with full heads of black hair.

  Tears slid down Sergei’s face as he reached into the crib with a feather-light touch to push the hair back on one of them. His hand could easily cradle the baby’s entire head. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “Like Elena.”

  “She always said they looked like you,” Julie said through her own tears.

  Alex wrapped his arm around Sergei’s waist. “They’re amazing. Perfect.”

  Sergei nodded and turned to embrace Alex.

  “You must be exhausted,” Julie said as she led them out of the room. “Can I get you anything, or do you want to sleep? There really is nothing for you to do for the next few hours anyway.”

  “Lena’s parents?” Sergei asked.

  “They are flying over as soon as they can, but it will be a few days before they can get here.”

  “We can sleep here?” Sergei asked. “Near babies?”

  “Of course. The guest room is all ready.”

  “Thank you.” Sergei sagged against Alex. “Will you get me when the babies wake up?”

  Julie’s eyes flicked over to Alex. He subtly shook his head no. From what he knew about babies, they would be awake soon. Sergei needed sleep. He’d played a rough game yesterday and hadn’t slept for almost twenty-four hours. The babies would still be there when they woke up. Lena would still be dead.

  The babies could possibly be there when they woke up every day for the next eighteen years. Assuming he and Sergei had an actual future, and this possibly foolish attempt to change their relationship didn’t destroy their friendship when it all came crashing down. Oh God.

  “Of course,” Julie told Sergei. It took Alex a second to remember what question she was answering. “Come on, the room is this way.”

  As soon as they hit the room, Sergei sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Alex thanked Julie and shut the door. He sat down next to Sergei and leaned against him. “You should try to get some sleep.”

  “Yes,” Sergei agreed, but he made no move to undress or lie down.

  Alex kissed him on the cheek and then kneeled down on the carpet between his legs. He untied Sergei’s sneakers. “Lift up.” He tapped the side of Sergei’s leg like he was a horse. Sergei lifted his leg, letting Alex take off the other one as well.

  Alex pushed him down onto the bed. They could sleep in the clothes they’d traveled in. “Sleep. You’re no good to anyone exhausted. Those babies are going to need their daddy well-rested.”

  Sergei grabbed Alex’s hands and pulled him down on top of him, hugging Alex tightly to his chest. “Lena is gone,” he said into Alex’s hair.

  “I know, mon amour.” Alex wished he could take all the pain away.

  “I can’t take the babies.”

  Alex’s heart clenched a bit at that. It was the first thing Sergei had said when he’d stopped crying over Lena’s death. “Don’t think about that now. Let’s just sleep, and save decisions for later, okay?”

  Sergei sighed. “Okay.”

  Alex kicked off his shoes and maneuvered them under the blankets. Sergei rolled onto his side, curling around Alex. It wasn’t too long before his deep, even
breathing let Alex know he was finally sleeping.

  Alex stayed awake longer, long enough to hear the babies wake up and other people moving around the house. The next few days were going to be tough as hell.

  Despite what Sergei had said, he couldn’t help but hold a little hope that Sergei would change his mind about the babies. One look, and Alex was already in love with them. Scared out of his mind, but in love. That sounded about par for the course.

  Whatever happened, he would be there for Sergei in any way the man needed him.

  23

  Sergei

  The light filtering through the curtains told Sergei that he’d slept for hours. The growling in his stomach told him he hadn’t eaten for at least twelve hours. He wished he could be one of those people who woke up and didn’t know where they were, but he knew before he even opened his eyes. Lena was dead. Lena’s babies—his babies, his children—were waiting for him to decide their fate. Oh, God. He couldn’t do this.

  Choking back a sob, he rolled over to embrace Alex, knowing without looking that he would be there for him. He wrapped his arm around Alex’s chest, burying his face against his shoulder. Alex stroked his hair gently. He didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

  “I love you,” Alex whispered.

  Well, there was that. Alex could say that to him all day, every day.

  Sergei had had no idea how amazing it would feel to have someone he was in love with saying that to him. He hugged Alex tighter. “I love you, too.”

  Alex let him lie there for a moment, continuing to stroke his hair. Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence. “Are you ready to get up and see the babies?”

  Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought he heard a thread of excited anticipation in Alex’s voice. Alex had always loved babies and small children. Since hiding in bed wasn’t an option, he had to be ready. Sergei had never backed away from a challenge in his life. He wouldn’t back down from this either, no matter how much he grieved for Lena or how unprepared he felt to make the decisions that would have to be made.

  Sergei kissed Alex tenderly. “I love you,” he repeated. He would never get tired of saying that, or of the way Alex’s face lit up when he did. “And yes, I am ready to meet the babies.”

  They followed the sound of baby laughter and soft music to the kitchen.

  Dust modes danced in the bright light coming through the windows. Somehow, the light in southern California seemed different to Sergei. The first time he had visited, the quality of the light made him want to break out his art supplies for the first time in twenty years. He wanted to capture the feeling and bring it back to Seattle with him.

  It lent an air of fantasy to everything that happened. Nothing ever felt completely real when he was there.

  The two smiling, food-covered babies sitting side-by-side in matching highchairs felt completely, utterly, totally real.

  They babbled happily to each other, banging their fists on the trays when the dark-haired young woman speaking Spanish to them didn’t shovel food into their mouths as quickly as they wanted.

  Sergei had no idea what she was saying, but it sounded affectionate, and it made him happy to know the babies were loved.

  Alex laughed as one of the kids complained loudly when Patricia snatched a bowl of something mushy away from them right before they stuck their entire fist into it. “Oh, that one is definitely your kid. You make the same sound when someone takes your food away.”

  “How do you tell them apart?” Sergei asked

  “It’s pretty easy when I change their diapers,” the woman answered, turning to them with a smile. “You must be Sergei and Alex.”

  She stood up. “I’m Patricia, the nanny. And this,” she put her hand on the head of the baby dressed in a yellow kind of short-sleeve thing, “is Tatyana Sergeyevna, your daughter. And this,” she poked the nose of the other baby, and he laughed, “is David Sergeyevich, you son. Monsters, this is your poppa, Sergei Ivanovich and his—” She paused waiting for someone to fill her in on the relationship between Alex and Sergei.

  “My boyfriend,” Sergei supplied.

  Patricia nodded her acceptance. She looked to be in her early-thirties with thick, wavy black hair, an intelligent look on her kind face, and a soft, curvy body that would be perfect for cuddling a baby. “Do you want to feed them?” she asked, holding up the smallest spoon Sergei had ever seen.

  That sounded terrifying, but also exciting. “Is it hard?”

  Her laugh was a pleasant, kind one. “Not really. You just kind of point it at them and they eat it.”

  “I want to,” Alex chimed in. “Please? There’s two of them; we can do it together?”

  Sergei nodded. If Alex was with him, he could do anything.

  “Can I feed Tatyana?” Alex asked.

  “Of course,” Patricia said, standing up. She pulled up another chair, so they could both sit. “Poppa, are you going to feed your son?”

  His son.

  Sergei looked at the baby. No, not ‘the baby.’ David. David Sergeyevich. His son. Davka. And his daughter, Tatyana Sergeyevna. Tanya. They were named after him, Sergei Ivanovich, the way he had been named after his father, Ivan Gregorivich, and so on and so on. It hit him like an actual puck to the chest that through these flesh and blood miracles with food on their face, he was part of a chain of family stretching back through time and projecting into the future. It was a good thing he was already sitting down because he doubted his legs could hold him up right now.

  A squawk from David reminded him that epiphanies had to take the back seat to the here and now demands of a growing human.

  Alex and Tanya bonded right away. He had a thousand questions for Patricia it seemed. What were they eating? How often did they eat? Were they rolling over on their own?

  He and Davka considered each other seriously over a spoonful of orange mush. Davka pulled the tiny, rubber coated spoon from his hand and started gnawing on it. “Do you like the orange mush, maylesh?” Sergei asked in Russian. Davka’s dark eyes opened wide, and his mouth dropped into a surprised O. Tanya turned to Sergei, her expression mirroring Davka’s.

  “Oh? You liked that?” Sergei asked in the same language.

  “Lena spoke to them in Russian,” Patricia explained. “She wanted them to learn it.”

  That was one thing Sergei could do. As Alex continued to grill Patricia on the particulars of the babies’ daily routines, Sergei kept a running monologue in Russian. He told them about their mother, how beautiful and intelligent she was. How much she loved them. He told them about Alex and how much they would love him.

  He wasn’t sure how much Alex could follow, and he didn’t really care. It felt good to be able to express himself in the language he was most fluent in, even if his audience had no idea what he was saying. It got tiring trying to translate his deepest, most complex thoughts into English. When it came to these most basic of concepts—love, family, death—it was the language of his childhood that served him best.

  Davka’s eating slowed down. He seemed more interested in chewing on the spoon that the food. “Is spoon tasty?” Sergei asked. “More than the mush?”

  “He’s teething,” Patricia explained. “It feels good to him.”

  Tanya smiled, and now that Sergei was looking, he could see she had two white buds poking out from her bottom gums.

  “What are you going to do with them now?” Alex asked.

  What did you do with babies all day, Sergei wondered. They could only eat so many times a day and could only sleep for so long.

  “Now we clean them up, and we’ll do a diaper check, and then go play for a while.” Patricia turned to Alex, clearly sensing that he was the least terrified of them both. “I have a whole notebook of their routines and weight, what they ate, everything, that I kept for Elena that I’ll give you to take with you. And a few other books like What to Expect the First Year, that I think you’ll like.” The sob in her voice caught Sergei by surprise. “I’m going to miss th
em so much.”

  She broke down crying, only stopping when Davka and Tanya started to get upset. Pulling herself together, she picked up two wide, two-handled plastic mugs and handed one to each kid. Davka and Tanya each reached for theirs with varying success. “I’m sorry. It was just such a shock. I love Elena, and I’ve been with the babies since they were born. I love them like my own.”

  With dawning horror, Sergei realized that Patricia assumed they would be leaving with the babies.

  “I do not know if I am taking babies,” Sergei blurted out as Alex fawned over how cute they looked holding their own cups.

  “You have to,” Patricia said, shocked. “They don’t have anyone else.”

  “They have grandparents.”

  “In Russia,” Alex said. “The place you said you’d never go back to, remember?”

  Oh, Sergei remembered. The thought of never seeing the babies again was slightly more horrifying than taking them to Seattle and raising them. Slightly.

  Alex bit his lip, eyebrows lowered. He was trying very hard not to say something.

  “What?” Sergei asked.

  Alex shook his head. “Nothing. This is your decision; you have to do what you think is best.” He wouldn’t meet Sergei’s eyes.

  Sergei took both of his hands and pulled him a little away from the babies and Patricia. “No, Lyosha, this affects both of us. It is huge, huge thing. It will change everything.”

  “I know.” One of the babies screeched happily and banged something against the highchair tray. Alex turned and smiled, his face lighting up.

  Patricia expertly removed the tray from Tanya’s chair, untied the food splattered bib, and started wiping the baby’s face and hands clean.

  Sergei watched how competent she was, how confident. He wouldn’t have even known how to remove the tray. “We are two men, with no woman around. What do we know about babies? I barely remembered living with my parents. How can I be a father?”

  Patricia lifted Tanya up, gave her a little kiss, and carried her over to Sergei. “Hold her for me a second, please, Sergei Ivanovich,” Patricia said, shoving the baby up to him in a voice that brooked no argument.