The Defender: A Single Dad Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey)

by Gina Azzi

  No, that doesn’t even make sense. He just had a tough loss, a hard day…

  He doesn’t even know about Jerry’s message.

  Still, the rationalizations do little to quiet my mind.

  Images of Jerry, storming out of our house, the storm door banging behind him, the rain beating relentlessly, cloud my mind. Two years ago, this week, I signed the divorce papers that Jerry waved around like a victory flag.

  His callousness cut deeply. His disgust with me, with my weakness, ran through my veins like molasses, slowly, steadily, sluggishly. By the time he was gone, a fuck you, Bella, howling with the wind, I was numb.

  Too numb to cry. Too emotionally burnt out to feel the acute pain of another failure. Never a mother, not even a wife.

  I hardly remember the days that followed save for my big brother’s presence. Colton showed up on my doorstep, my parents close behind, and showed me the greatest compassion as I broke apart in his arms for the second time in two years. Dad helped me pack up my house and sell it, splitting the profit with Jerry, as we agreed upon. Mom helped me perfect my resume and search for a new job, telling Colton to ease up when he pleaded with me to go back to school and pursue children’s psychology full-time.

  But Colton saved me and seeing him walk into Taps tonight quieted some of the unsettled energy that surges this time of year. Even more so now that Jerry contacted me. What does he want? What could we possibly need to talk about?

  I could reply to his message and find out but…am I ready for that?

  “You hungry?” I ask Colton, untying my apron and folding it into a square.

  “I can always eat, Bells.”

  I smile at him and he grins back and a quiet voice whispers you’re going to be okay. God, I hope so.

  The snow is falling heavier now and Colton and I make a run for it, shrieking through the thick flakes like we did as children, until we find shelter in the little diner around the corner.

  We sit in a booth, snowflakes dropping past the window next to us, and drink hot coffee. We feast on Belgian waffles with a side of eggs.

  “You look good, Bells,” my brother murmurs. His eyes, the same cerulean blue as mine, pierce me with a knowing look.

  “I’m in love with him,” I admit.

  If he’s surprised by my admission, he conceals it well, ducking his head and hiding his smile behind his coffee mug. “He’s in love with you too.”

  “He’s angry with me,” I say instead, not wanting to let the hope I was starting to lose myself in surge again. Not tonight, when James’s behavior threw me for a loop. Not now, when Jerry’s message and the week of my divorce, two years old and a failure still too fresh, prickles at me.

  “Why didn’t you tell him about Jerry?”

  I shrug. “What’s to tell?”

  Colton sighs. “If I ever get my hands on that son of a bitch—”

  “He messaged me,” I say quietly.

  “What? When?” Colton leans forward.

  “Late last night… I saw it this morning.”

  “What the fuck does he want?”

  I shrug.

  “Bella.”

  I look up. “He was grieving,” I say, not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or my brother.

  “Don’t you dare defend him.” Colton glares at me, his jaw clenched. “That piece of shit put his hands on you, Bells. His fucking hands on his wife. The things he said to you, the way he acted—”

  I hold up a hand, silencing my brother. Jerry’s words, barbed wires and blades, cut through me all over again at the reminder.

  You’re nothing. A wasted-up failure that even biology deserted. How could you lose our son? How could he die? I don’t want you anymore, Bells. No man will.

  For weeks, starting at the one-year anniversary of Miles’s death, Jerry ranted and raved in a drunken stupor. His heart had been obliterated, his life twisted into something tragic and unrecognizable. He spat anger and breathed fired while I curled into myself, an unfeeling, numb shell of a woman unfit to be a mother. His anger broke one night in a startling shock of violence, a backhand across my face, that left both of us reeling. Jerry’s eyes were wild before he broke down in a fit of sobs, apologizing to me and swearing at himself. That was the night we knew we were done.

  Jerry walked away without a backward glance. But in the aftermath of our devastation, his cruelty and my indifference, I drowned in insecurities. I lost my way, my will, my purpose and I’ve only started to find my footing again with James and his family.

  Old habits die hard and confiding in the man I now love about the emotional scars I bear from the man who once loved me is a hurdle I haven’t yet cleared.

  “You can’t move on if you’re not honest with him,” Colton says quietly.

  I meet his gaze, hating the sympathy ringed in pity I read in his eyes.

  “Everything you experienced, everything that happened afterwards with Jerry, it changed you, Bells. For the past three years, since, since Miles, you haven’t been living. You’ve just been existing, biding time. For what?” Colton leans forward, reaching across the table to clutch my wrist. “That man, James Ryan, cares about you. I could tell the second I saw him walking toward us, looking like he wanted to knock me out.”

  I snort and Colt grins.

  “Trust me, Bells. The only way through this”—he squeezes my wrist—“is to feel it. You can’t keep everything bottled up forever. You can’t reach for numbness all the time. Closure is a good thing and as much as I hate Jerry, and as much as I don’t want you to talk to him, if you think it will help, maybe you should respond to his message. All I know is, you need to let someone in. And I will always be that person for you but I think you should give James a crack at it too.”

  My eyes burn with tears I won’t let fall. Colton’s voice cracks and I hate how much hurt I’ve dragged him and my parents through over the past few years. “I want to forgive Jerry for me, not for him. It’s something I used to speak with Dr. Carlisle about. I want to move forward. And sometimes, that’s hard when I still feel so angry and…bereft, about the way things ended with Jerry. But I don’t know how to tell James that. He’s dealing with his own grief,” I murmur, not wanting to share just how deeply Layla’s death cut him. “He’s still coming to terms…”

  “What better person to help you through yours? You can support each other. But the only way to do that is to be honest. Really, truly honest.”

  I nod slowly, wetting my dry lips. “What if he rejects me?”

  Colton tilts his head, the corners of his mouth curling upward, at odds with the blaze in his eyes. “You’ve survived and endured a hell of a lot more than a guy’s rejection, Bells. You can get through anything.” He leans back in his seat, his hand releasing my wrist. “But he’s not going to reject you. The guy I met tonight wants to step up for you. You just need to let him.”

  James is already asleep, his light snore whistling through the dark, when I let myself into the house. I hesitate in the doorway to his bedroom, shifting my weight from one foot to the next.

  Colton’s words echo in my ears. My brother was right. Since losing Miles, I’ve been in a strange space, existing but not really living. Going through the motions but not engaging with the day, not being truly present for any of it.

  I work to ward off the hurt. I run to keep my restless energy in check. I move in with families who need me so I can be useful and not have to examine the emptiness of my own life too closely.

  For three years, this has been my norm but if I want a real chance with James, a real shot at a future and a family and happiness, then I need to start letting him in. Dr. Carlisle can’t be my primary sounding board, not if I want to belong to a family the way I do. That means making myself vulnerable and I finally feel like I’m at a place where I can do that. With James.

  I start right now, by peeling off my snow-covered jacket and letting it fall to the ground. Next, I shimmy out of my jeans, pull my shirt over my head, and tug off my soc
ks. I take a deep breath and do something I’ve never done before. I climb into James’s bed in the middle of a weeknight, when he’s already asleep, and press my cold toes against his warm legs, snuggling into his side like a child seeking comfort.

  He opens his arms, his eyes still closed, and I roll into them, my body relaxing into his. I let out a deep sigh and allow my eyes to close.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathe out, kissing his forearm.

  “Shh. We’ll talk tomorrow. Sleep now, baby,” James murmurs.

  I melt into him, my worries easing, my hurt abating, and do as he says. I slip into a peaceful slumber that’s cut short by a shriek that nearly rips my heart out of my chest.

  17

  James

  “Why is Bella in here?” Milly screams the following morning.

  My eyes snap open as adrenaline shoots through me, causing me to wake up in an instant. My head swings from my daughter’s horrified expression, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open, to the panicked eyes of Bella, still in bed next to me, practically naked.

  Fuck. Shit. I messed this up so fucking badly.

  Maia appears behind my daughter, calling out to Mason to stay where he is down the hall. She shoots me an apologetic look that I barely register before planting her hands on my daughter’s shoulders and steering her out of the doorframe. Milly kicks at Bella’s discarded clothes as she leaves.

  “Shit,” Bella murmurs, holding the sheet to her chest as she sits up. One bra strap slides down her shoulder and bile rises in my throat.

  My daughter just caught me in bed with her nanny. I look around the bedroom as if seeing it for the first time. The framed family photos Layla set out on the dresser, the same white, linen duvet she purchased the year she fell ill wrapped around Bella’s chest.

  Jesus, what must Milly think? What is Maia telling my kids? What the hell am I going to say to explain this?

  I narrow my eyes at Bella, Panda’s advice coming back to me. Make sure they hear it from you. This is so bad.

  I scramble from the bed, pulling on a pair of sweats and throwing Bella’s clothes at her.

  “What are you doing in here?” I ask, my tone heavy with accusation.

  She shrinks away from me, her expression dazed. “I thought, I wanted to talk.”

  I huff out a breath, shaking my head. Right now, my focus needs to be the twins. I don’t have time to hash things out with Bella; I can’t worry about whatever the fuck last night was. I need to see Milly and Mason. “Right, well, that will have to wait. Get dressed. I’m going to talk to my kids.” I turn away from her before the hurt in her eyes, the devastation rippling over her face, can persuade me to stay even a moment longer.

  I swipe a T-shirt from the top of my dresser and pull it on as I leave the bedroom, closing the door behind me, and leaving Bella alone in a sea of sheets.

  I bound down the stairs, my heart racing and my ears ringing, as a million excuses that I know won’t cut it flash through my mind. I stop short in the doorway to the kitchen, meeting Maia’s worried eyes on the other side of the kitchen counter.

  My kids are eating cereal with their backs to me. Milly’s shoulders are stiff, her posture perfectly straight, and I can tell she’s trying to school her emotions. Shit.

  “Hey guys, how was your night at Aunt Maia’s?” I try for cool.

  Milly whips her head around, glaring at me with malice.

  I look to Mason who shakes his head at me.

  “Guys,” Maia says calmly, leaning down to rest her elbows on the island. “Your dad wants to have a serious conversation with you. Let’s give him a chance to explain some things, okay?”

  The twins grumble their agreement and a swell of gratitude for my sister-in-law rises in my chest. Maia walks toward me, lowering her voice as she nears. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to drop them off before school. Otherwise, I could have just taken them but I’m filling in for a shift and—”

  “No, it’s okay. I overslept. Don’t worry about it,” I reassure her, tipping my head toward the door. “Go to work and I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay,” she agrees, biting her lip. She glances over her shoulder at the twins’ backs but doesn’t say anything else before she slips out of the house, the lock on the front door catching behind her.

  I blow out a deep breath and rub my hands together. What the fuck is my game plan? Why does this suddenly feel like the most difficult conversation I’ve ever had with my kids? Surely, we’ve been through worse than my starting to date. Haven’t we? Will the kids see it like that? Or will they see this next step with Bella as some kind of betrayal to Layla?

  Suddenly, I wish I had been upfront with them from the beginning, even if it seemed too soon. Maybe Panda was right. Maybe my not telling them from the start has shaken their faith, their trust, in me. The thought rattles me and I force myself to round the island and face them before I spiral further.

  “Milly, Mason,” I start, meeting each of my kid’s eyes. Milly looks like she’s about to burst into tears. Mason’s expression is more impassive, his eyes curious. “Bella and I were planning to talk to you guys this weekend. I never meant for you to see that, to find out the way you did.” I glance at Milly but she averts her gaze, scraping her fingernails against her palms, the way she does when she’s anxious. My heart breaks for my daughter and I hate myself for being such a selfish man, for falling so goddamn short as a father. “I’m sorry,” I lower my voice but Milly doesn’t meet my eyes.

  “The truth is, I met Bella before she became your nanny,” I continue, garnering the attention of both of my children. “We were…friends, from before. This new part of our relationship”—I gesture to the doorway, to all that transpired outside of the kitchen this morning, before yanking on the back of my neck. Fuck, this is hard—“well, it’s new. I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you, that’s all. But Bella and I are…we’re dating.”

  “You always say honesty is the best policy,” Mason accuses me.

  “You’re right. And I’m sorry I wasn’t honest from the beginning but I’m being honest now.”

  He shovels a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth in response.

  I glance at Milly. The tears she fought so hard to keep at bay have spilled over.

  “Oh, Milly,” I race to my daughter’s side, wrapping her in my arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything is okay. I know you’re upset. You can feel however you feel. Angry, sad. Just talk to me, Jellybean.”

  My daughter sobs in my arms and Mason glares at me like I just told him Santa isn’t real. An overpowering sense of helplessness crashes over me and unworthiness floods my limbs. I don’t deserve these kids. How could I mess things up so badly for them? Of course it’s too soon to start dating.

  How the hell was Panda right? They needed to hear about Bella from me, not find us tangled up in bed together.

  Failure and anger, already at an all-time high after yesterday, buzz through me as I shush Milly, brushing her hair away from her forehead.

  “Are you and Bella getting married?” Mason asks suddenly.

  “What? No,” I say.

  “Are you having a baby?” he asks. “Making a new family?”

  Milly freezes in my arms and I bite my tongue. “No, of course not. Why would you even think that?” I ask my son. Wanting to reassure him further, I blurt out, “The three of us will always be a family. Forever.”

  Mason shrugs, clinking his spoon against the side of his cereal bowl. But the sound is closely followed by someone clearing their throat in the doorway.

  I turn toward the kitchen entrance, with Milly still clutched in my arms, to witness the blood drain from Bella’s face.

  Could this morning get any worse?

  “Bella,” I say slowly, watching as a wall shutters over her eyes, concealing her hurt and replacing it with that aloofness I can’t stand.

  “I just, I wanted to see you guys. To say I’m sorry for how this morning started out,” she says in a flat
tone, her fingers twisting together in front of her body.

  Mason shrugs. “S’okay.”

  But Milly doesn’t lift her head and her unwillingness to look at Bella has me tightening my hold, keeping my daughter shielded.

  Bella catches the movement and her expression wobbles, her eyes taking on a sheen of moisture that she rapidly blinks away.

  “Why don’t you take today off?” I suggest. “I’m going to keep the kids home from school today. I think we need to spend some family time together.”

  “Oh, sure. I mean, of-of course,” Bella stutters, her expression too locked down to read. “I’ll, um, check in with you later?”

  “Yeah. I’ll, I’ll call you,” I say before looking back to Milly. I hear Bella slip from the room but I don’t bother looking up.

  How can I meet her eyes when I’ve made such a mess of things? My chest aches when I hear the front door close a minute later. A few weeks ago, I told Bella Andrews that I fucking love her.

  Now, I do absolutely nothing to stop her from walking out of my home. From walking out of my life. Because why would she want this? As much as I care for Bella, the needs of my kids, especially at their tender ages, will always come first.

  What woman would want to come second, always after the family a man built with his first wife? Bella deserves more than I can give her. She deserves a man who will always choose her first, who will give her the babies her heart desires, who will create a family with her.

  I cling to that thought so I don’t run after her. Instead, I squeeze my eyes closed, drop my cheek to Milly’s hair, and pray.

  May God forgive me for all the hurt I’ve caused.

  May Layla forgive me for falling in love with Bella.

  May Milly and Mason forgive me for pushing her away.

  18

  Bella