The Penalty Box: A hockey sports romance novel (A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance Book 3)

by Odette Stone

  My mood faltered slightly when I walked out of the bedroom. Andrew sat at my island, sipping coffee out of my favorite mug. My eyes looked for Charlie. She was sipping her coffee. I held her gaze.

  Remember last night?

  She flushed hard and smiled into her mug.

  I moved to the kitchen and started pulling out the ingredients for a smoothie.

  “Do you have practice?” Charlie murmured.

  “Yeah, I have to leave soon. It will be light practice since we are playing tonight, but I’ll come home right after.”

  “Are you two going to the game?” Andrew asked my wife and my mom.

  “Of course,” my mom answered.

  “Well, I have two extra tickets. Why don’t you two ladies let me buy you dinner and then we can go to the game together?”

  Before I could shut that down, my mom exclaimed, “That would be wonderful.”

  “Great.” His eyes taunted mine. “Why don’t I come and pick you up around five? I know a great place to eat near the stadium, it’s a…”

  I turned on the blender, drowning out his words. I might have blended a fraction longer than I needed.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed, not sorry.

  His eyes were hard. But when he turned to my mom, he was all buttery smiles and charm.

  “I should go.” He slid off his stool. “And I’m looking forward to tonight.”

  He said goodbye, and I tracked him with my eyes until he disappeared.

  “What a nice gentleman,” my mom said in Russian. “Why don’t you like him?”

  “He’s a nuisance,” I responded in Russian as I poured my smoothie into a travel mug.

  She lifted her chin. “Jealousy can enhance the flavor of the dish, but too much and it spoils the meal.”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “It’s okay, Mica. It only means you care. Which makes me very happy.”

  I glanced at Charlie, who was looking between us, not understanding a word we said. I leaned over and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. “I gotta go.”

  She flushed. “See you later.”

  Chapter 17

  CHARLIE

  Andrew and Yelena talked around me while we ate our pre-dinner game, allowing me to think about what had happened with Mica. Last night, the way he touched me… I had never been touched like that before. But his words were what made me blush every time I thought of them.

  This is just the beginning.

  Your body is mine now.

  It’s mine to fuck.

  I shivered at Mica’s blatant possessiveness. I not only wanted it, I craved it. I wanted to completely surrender to the man. I wanted to belong to him. I wanted him to fill the role of my husband. Now that I had experienced a taste of what he offered, I felt like a starved woman standing before a buffet. Like a prophet, he had shown me the promised land of what could be. The problem was, he was offering me keys to paradise for only a year, and then I would be cast back out. Did I even want to know how perfect life could be, knowing that it was temporary? How would I recover from that?

  When my mom had passed away, I had been forced to rely entirely on myself. I looked out for my safety, my finances, my life. No one else had worried about me. My survival had been up to me. Mica’s approach to our marriage was old-fashioned. He made it clear that it was his responsibility to take care of me, protect me, and keep me safe. His care healed something in me I didn’t know needed healing.

  But what would happen to me when our marriage ended? I would need to return to looking out for myself, and I was already bracing myself for how lonely that would feel. I knew it was stupid to let myself rely on him. I was only setting myself up for heartache at the end of this.

  But when he touched me and told me I belonged to him? He felt like an addictive drug. I wanted to belong to him. I wanted to matter to him.

  You’re mine. You’re my wife and this body is mine.

  If we started sleeping together, how could I protect my heart? It was already half-attached, and I knew if we became physical, my heart would fuse completely to Mica. It would be glorious while it lasted. But how much damage would happen to my heart when I ceased to be his wife? All that belonging and caring would disappear.

  I didn’t want to think about it.

  Both Andrew and Yelena stared at me expectantly.

  “Sorry.” I blushed. “Did you say something?”

  Andrew’s eyebrows creased together, but Yelena pealed with laughter. “You need to forgive my daughter-in-law. She is still very much a newlywed, and I think her head is often in the clouds, thinking about my son.”

  Andrew cleared his throat. “I was asking how your steak was.”

  I looked down at my mostly eaten meal. I couldn’t even remember eating it. “It was delicious.”

  He looked satisfied. “You should let me take you out to The Porterhouse. Now those steaks are out of this world.”

  Yelena’s expression sharpened. “I think my son would love that. I know he loves a good steak.”

  Frustration crossed Andrew’s face but disappeared so quickly, I wasn’t sure if I saw it. “Yes. That’s what I meant.”

  “Thank you for this dinner, Andrew,” Yelena said. “Now I will insist you let me pay.”

  They argued lightly over who would pay the bill, but Yelena won. She followed the waiter to the front, leaving Andrew and I alone.

  “You look beautiful tonight.” He leaned forward. “There is something different about you, but I can’t put my finger on it. You’re literally glowing.”

  “I guess married life suits me,” I spoke the words lightly.

  “Charlie?” A cool voice spoke from beside me. “Or should I say, Mrs. Petrov?”

  I turned to see Sabrina, the tall redhead, standing beside our table. She was as beautiful as I remembered.

  I looked up at her, lying. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

  “Sabrina Christensen.” She reached across the table, offering Andrew her hand. “And you are?”

  “Andrew McDougall.” He looked between the two of us. “How do you know each other?”

  She smiled rather viciously. “I used to date her husband.” Her voice got bitter. “Right up until he married her.”

  “Really?” Andrew’s expression grew more interested.

  “Are we ready to go?” Yelena appeared beside the table.

  Sabrina eyeballed Yelena and then, without saying a word, turned and walked off.

  “What was that about?” Andrew asked quietly as he helped me put on my coat.

  I turned to him, not wanting Yelena to hear. “She approached me the night of our wedding party and tried to cause trouble with Mica and me by implying that she was still with him.”

  Andrew’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I’m sorry. That must have been hard to hear.”

  “It wasn’t true! She was only trying to cause trouble.”

  Disbelief traced over his voice. “If you say so.”

  I felt indignant. “That’s what I am saying.”

  “We both know he is royalty in the hockey world. Until he got tied down, he could sleep with anyone and everyone. It must have been a difficult transition for him to commit to only one person.”

  Tied down? Difficult transition? My eyebrows went up at his suggestion that Mica had cheated on me. “That’s not who my husband is.”

  “Lots of men consider it their right to sleep around right until the day they get married.” He gave a half laugh. “I mean, why else do men have strippers at their bachelor party?”

  Andrew’s comments subdued me as we walked over to the stadium. Sabrina told me she had been with Mica only a couple days before we had married. Which I couldn’t even get pissed about, because we had been heading into the relationship in name only. He had no emotional commitment to me, no reason not to enjoy himself. But she was a reminder of just how wild Mica had been before we got married. The guy had never experienced a shortage of women to warm his bed.

  Why did
I think I would be different? Furthermore, was the only reason he was interested in me now, because I was the last woman standing? He had no options other than me to bed. How soon after the ink dried on our divorce papers would he be back in Sabrina’s bed or chasing some other woman?

  I needed to protect myself from falling for Mica. No matter how hard it would be.

  We sat in our seats with Yelena in between Andrew and myself. The game started, and like every other game, I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes off Mica as he skated.

  Yelena leaned over and spoke to me. “My husband also loved to watch Mica play. When he was a small boy, sometimes the games would be outside in bitterly cold weather, and no matter how busy my husband was with work, he always made time to come to Mica’s games. Sometimes he would go directly from work to watch, and he would be half-frozen in his suit and dress shoes, but he never complained. When Mica was little, he made Mica his priority.”

  I looked at her, curious about Mica’s childhood. “Did your husband play hockey?”

  She laughed. “Oh no. We don’t know where Mica got his athletic ability from. My husband is not very sporty. I think it is a source of deep pride that his son is so athletic.”

  The crowd’s screams shifted, and then the place got eerily quiet. I looked to see Mica, crouched on the ice, his hands over his head.

  I stood up, my heart pounding.

  Get up. Please get up.

  But he didn’t get up. Ryan and another player stood beside him, looking down at him. A trainer hopped over the fence and, in his shoes, half ran, half shuffled across the ice towards Mica.

  The stadium was deathly quiet. I watched in horror, hands over my mouth, trying to see what was going on. The trainer kneeled on the ice, talking to Mica, and then he motioned to Ryan to help him.

  Mica stood up, and I saw blood, a whole lot of blood, before the trainer pressed a towel to his face. They led him off the ice to cheers from the stadium. Mica didn’t go to the bench. They led him through the gate and he disappeared.

  “I have to go.” I started to move through the aisle.

  Andrew stood up. “Let me come.”

  “No.” My voice was sharp. “Stay with Yelena.”

  “Text me,” Yelena pleaded.

  Without looking back, I ran up the stairs towards the exit. I raced through the vast corridor, my eyes looking for stairs that led me down to the next level. I got momentarily disoriented, but then found a long hallway that led towards the locker rooms.

  A security guard manned the hallway. “You can’t go past this point.”

  “That’s my husband,” I said in desperation.

  He shook his head, not believing me.

  “Charlie,” said a voice from behind me. I turned to see Rory, Mark Ashford’s daughter. “Are you looking for Mica?”

  Tears threatened. “They took him off the ice. I know I’m not allowed back there, but I’m so scared.”

  She put a comforting arm around me and flashed her badge to the security guard. “Let’s go see how he’s doing.”

  She led me down another corridor and then turned to me. “Can I ask you to wait here?”

  I nodded, trying to hold it together. I needed to know he was okay. She disappeared into a room and I paced for an undetermined amount of time until she opened the door.

  “Mica took a puck to the face.”

  My hands flew up to my mouth.

  “The puck hit right beneath his eye. They were worried about an orbital fracture, but they did an MRI and he has no broken bones in his face. He needs stitches underneath his eye.”

  “Can I see him? Does he know I’m here?”

  “He doesn’t want you to worry.”

  My eyes filled with tears. “He doesn’t want to see me?”

  She put her hand on my shoulder. “He said you can come in, but he’s more worried about your reaction than he is about his face. So, can you hold it together for him?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “His face is a mess. You emotionally need to prepare yourself for that, okay?”

  I just wanted to see him for myself, make sure he was okay. “I’m prepared.”

  She led me through the locker room, down another hall and into a medical-looking room. Mica was sitting on the edge of an examination table with his back to me. His jersey was off but he was still wearing most of his equipment. Two men in medical coats were standing at a counter, preparing something.

  “It’s okay,” Rory encouraged me.

  I moved around the table and worked to keep all my emotions in check. When I saw his face, I couldn’t breathe. Mica had a two-inch cut beneath his eye that was open wide and oozing blood. The skin around the cut was bruised black and purple, and his eye was starting to swell shut. It was the worst injury I had ever seen in my life, and that it had happened to his beautiful face made me want to weep.

  My eyes were wet, but I worked to remain impassive. “Your face is a mess.”

  He laughed and then winced. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

  “Sorry.” I grabbed his hand. “Are you okay?”

  He squeezed my hand. “Who did they put in the line to replace me?”

  “What?” The last thing I cared about was the game, but Mica was still in game mode.

  “Coach has that covered,” Rory said. “You’re not playing the rest of the night.”

  “Bullshit.”

  The doctor turned around, holding a three-inch needle in his hand. “We’re pulling you from the game.”

  “I can play,” he insisted. “Throw in some stitches and put me back.”

  Rory spoke from behind us. “Mica, we’re up four nothing. We’re in the middle of the second period. You don’t need to play.”

  “Put me back.” He sounded pissed.

  The doctor spoke. “Your eye is almost swollen closed. You know the rules. We can’t let you play until that eye opens. Now, the stitches will be a bit deep, so I’m going to inject some local anesthetic to freeze the area.”

  “I can still see,” Mica grumbled.

  Rory spoke to the doctor. “He’s banned from playing until that eye opens.”

  I squeezed Mica’s hand, not watching as the doctor started to stick the needle in Mica’s face. Instead, I studied Mica’s hand. It was so big and so strong, just like him. His platinum wedding ring was on his right hand.

  “Were you worried?” He sounded gruff.

  There was no point trying to hide my concern. I showed up almost crying. “I couldn’t breathe when I saw it was you who got hurt.”

  “Where’s my mom?”

  Oh shit. I had completely forgotten about her and Andrew. “I’m supposed to text them.”

  I reluctantly let go of his hand. I didn’t know Yelena’s cell number, so I texted Andrew’s phone.

  Me: Mica is fine. Face hurt. Not playing rest of game.

  Andrew: Where do you want to meet us?

  Me: Can you bring Yelena home? I’ll stay with Mica.

  Andrew: Are you sure you want to miss the rest of the game?

  I frowned.

  Me: I’m taking Mica home.

  I put my phone away. “Andrew will drive your mom home for us.”

  Mica’s lip flattened slightly at the mention of Andrew’s name. I brought his hand up to my mouth and kissed his knuckles, which elicited a small smile.

  “Is my face really that bad?” he asked.

  “No, it’s fine,” I lied, glancing up to look at his wound. It looked horrible. “I can barely notice anything.”

  The doctor looked over his shoulder at me, a huge grin on his face. “If you want his face back to normal, don’t make me laugh.”

  Once the doctor finished the stitches, Mica showered and got dressed and by that time, I was more than ready to go. I walked alongside him to his Porsche.

  “How’s your head?”

  “Other than my frozen face, I feel fine. I’m pissed they wouldn’t let me play the rest of the game.”

  I glance
d at him. He had a long thin bandage over his cheek, and his eye was swollen shut. “It hurts me to look at you.”

  A smile played on his lips. “Were you worried?”

  “I cried, didn’t I?”

  “Baby Krista showed emotions.”

  I started the car and glanced at him. “It was only for show.”

  His smile widened. “You’re a pretty convincing actress.”

  When we got home, I could tell Mica was in pain. He changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and lay in bed with the remote so he could watch the rest of the game. I brought him a cold compress and watched him lay it on his swollen eye.

  “Want some food?”

  He raised his arm up. “Come cuddle.”

  I crawled across the bed and tucked myself under his arm. I sighed as I felt his big arm come around me. This was my version of bliss. Together we watched the rest of the game. Well, he watched. I continued to let my thoughts drift around where we were heading. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff. If I threw myself off the precipitous point, there was no climbing back up.

  When the game was done, he untangled himself from me and sat up.

  “What do you need?” I asked anxiously.

  “I feel nauseous. I think it’s the pain meds.”

  “I think you need to eat.” I wanted to help him. “Let me cook for you. What do you want?”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Mica sat at the island while I heated some soup for him.

  “So how was dinner?”

  I shrugged. “I had a steak.”

  “How was dinner with Andrew?” His voice shifted. I knew he disliked Andrew, and I had been doing my best to distance myself from our neighbor. Only because I knew my friendship with him bugged Mica.

  I reached down to refill Sniper’s water dish. “It was fine. I ran into Sabrina at the restaurant. She came over to say hello.”

  Mica’s good eye looked at me, assessing me. He didn’t ask about her, so I didn’t talk about our encounter. She was the reason I was stressing about where we were going. She had reminded me where Mica had come from before we married.

  I let him off the hook by changing the subject. “Your mom was telling me how your dad always came to your games.”