by Sarina Bowen
TWENTY-SEVEN
Georgia struggled through the meal, laboring hard to convey good cheer. But her smile felt pasted on. There were ghosts all around her. Sitting in the Trevi family dining room was like watching a 3-D movie of her younger life. Just stepping into their familiar kitchen gave her an ache, and Marion Trevi’s tight hug had seared her.
Even so, DJ’s excellent lasagna and Vi’s salad went down easily. Because it was mealtime and her metabolism didn’t take a day off just because she was stressed out.
But sitting in this cheery dining room with its striped cotton napkins and happy faces made the ache worse. She’d once felt like an adopted member of this family. It was something she’d needed back then, and she hadn’t even known it.
Her dad was a good man and a good father, but their home had always been quiet. Even before her mother had died, Georgia had wished for a baby brother or sister to liven things up. But their luck had once run only in the other direction. When she thought back to the misty days of her childhood, it was amazing how high-functioning her father had really been in the face of tragedy. Even right after Mom passed, he’d kept up the Christmas traditions. He’d made it to all her school events and taken her on vacation. The loss must have been staggering, but he did it for her.
Even then she’d known not to complain. But her heart had always yearned for more family. And when she and Leo became an item in their high school days, she became a fixture at the Trevi table. She was sitting, in fact, in the very same seat that she’d had in the past—the one nearest the napkin holder shaped like a sailboat. Whenever there’d been a spill, she’d been the one to leap into action. There were frequent spills, because when the Trevi siblings argued they used their hands.
Stepping back into this room was like a window on everything she’d once given up. Meanwhile, she felt Leo sneaking worried looks at her from one seat away. And when she finally looked into his waiting eyes, all the warmth there made her heart do a pirouette of joy, followed by a sudden face-plant.
He was beautiful. She loved him. And he was probably going to live four thousand eight hundred miles away (thank you, Katt Phone) by the end of next week.
She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. But instead she sang Happy Birthday, including the mandatory verse about smelling like a monkey in a zoo. Vi had actually put fifty extra-thin candles on the cake, and Mrs. Trevi complained that it was going to set the house on fire. But her eyes shone when her kids sang to her, and Georgia could hardly bear to watch while she blew them out with a big smile on her face.
Leo ran out to the car for the gifts he’d brought. The jersey was a huge hit, except with DJ.
“Great. The family’s professional athlete brings Mom a jersey with our fricking name on it. You’re making the rest of us look like assholes.”
“Where’s mine?” Violet demanded.
“It’s not your birthday,” Leo reminded her.
“Just don’t get sent down to the minors before I turn twenty-one,” she grumbled.
“Your faith overwhelms me,” he returned.
And then all of a sudden it was time to get going. “I’ll check the traffic,” Mr. Trevi said, leaving the table to grab his iPad. “I think you’ll be okay on the LIE.”
People in other parts of the world talked about the weather. On Long Island, traffic was the subject of choice.
Georgia went to the front hall to find her coat, and DJ followed her. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. Though apparently she hadn’t hidden her discomfort very well, damn it. “It’s been an overwhelming month.”
“I bet it has.” DJ wrapped her into a hug. “I’m always happy to see you. If my bonehead brother isn’t treating you right, there’s room in my harem.”
She pinched him.
“Ow.”
“Are you and Lianne coming to the game tonight?”
“Of course. You can expect a full critique of the music in the morning.”
“Awesome.” She gave him one more squeeze.
“Call me,” he said in a low voice that betrayed his concern.
“I will.”
She and Leo got into the car after another round of hugs and well-wishing. “We’ll be right behind you! And look for us in section three!”
“I don’t even know where that is,” Leo confessed, kissing his mother good-bye. “So yell loudly.”
They pulled out of Huntington and Georgia watched the familiar sights pass by. When they’d made it onto the expressway, Leo said, “Okay. Now tell me what’s got you so upset.”
Georgia fiddled with the zipper on her jacket. There were several good reasons preventing her from telling him what she’d overheard. Eavesdropping in the C-suite endangered her own job, and if he did something with that information, it would endanger his. But Georgia had come to realize that the phone call from Vancouver was only a wake-up call. If Leo did well for the Bruisers, there would only be more calls like that. He’d spent much of his twenty-four years trying to arrive at this moment, when his fledgling pro career was just about to launch.
A week ago, being with Leo had seemed as easy as falling into bed in their conjoined hotel rooms. Now it seemed impossibly complicated.
“Gigi,” he prompted. “I need to know what you’re thinking so hard about over there. What’s this bullshit about taking it slow?”
He sounded a little angry, and she didn’t blame him. Once upon a time things were always easy between them. They played tennis and Scrabble and gave each other orgasms. In the past few weeks she’d given him lots of tears and indecision instead.
“Things are going badly for me at work,” she said, and it was true. “Hugh is interviewing someone on Monday that looks a lot like a replacement for me.”
A mile or two went by before Leo spoke. “That sucks, baby. I’m sorry. But I don’t see what that has to do with you and me.”
Good question. “This job is really important to me. For two years it’s been my whole life.” That sounded a bit pathetic when said out loud, but again it was true. “I need to concentrate on keeping it.”
“I get that you’re afraid . . .”
“I’m never afraid,” she argued before she could think better of it. Maybe it sounded petulant, but she really did hate that word.
“Right.” Leo’s voice was frosty. “So you’re saying I’m a distraction, then.”
“True.”
He switched lanes and passed two tractor trailers. A few miles later he spared a glance in her direction. “Distractions are good things. They’re supposed to be, anyway.”
Of course they were. He wasn’t going to buy the bullshit she was selling. But there was no way out of this hole that she’d dug for herself. She couldn’t tell him about the trade. And she couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t going to happen. After the game tonight, Leo would want to see her. He’d want to peel off her clothes and make love and make plans for the future. She’d have to nod and smile and pretend that it wasn’t all for nothing.
Georgia wasn’t that good of an actress. And faking things with him was the very last thing she wanted to do.
More miles slid by. The lights of Brooklyn were in view when Leo spoke again. “The thing is, Georgia, I love you. A lot. I don’t know what the hell is bothering you, or why you won’t level with me. But if you ask me to leave you alone for a while, I’ll have to abide by that. Under one condition.”
“What?” It came out as a scrape.
“You’re honest about why. The way I see it, there’s only two reasons you’re pushing me away. Either you’re scared . . .”
“I’m not scared,” she argued reflexively.
Leo surprised her by pulling over into a parking lot. They were a few minutes from home. He put the car in park and turned to face her. Reluctantly she met his big brown eyes. “I loved you when I was sixteen, and I told
you when I was seventeen. When I was eighteen, you cut me loose. But I never stopped. If you’re not scared, then maybe you don’t feel the same way. Tell me right now. I can take it.”
Ohhhhh shit. Do not cry. Georgia took a deep breath in through her nose. He was waiting, patient as ever. The one thing Georgia knew for sure in that moment was that Leo was going to go far in hockey. Never was a player so fierce or fearless as he was right in that moment, calling her bluff like the competitive genius that he really was.
They weren’t eighteen anymore, though. The uncomplicated love they’d enjoyed at eighteen couldn’t last anyway. He should know that by now.
“Yes or no, Gigi,” he said softly. “It’s a yes or no question. Do you love me like I love you?”
Georgia’s heart held a gun on itself. Then it pulled the trigger. She shook her head.
For a few seconds nothing happened. His laser gaze stayed trained on her face, as if expecting her to crack and admit she was a lying liar who had just lied.
She didn’t crack, though.
Finally, he turned toward the steering wheel, put the car in drive and maneuvered out of the parking lot. Five minutes later they arrived in front of her apartment building. She unclipped the seatbelt with shaking hands. What did a girl say after she’d just stabbed a good man in the heart? Thanks for dinner. The lasagna was killer.
“I just have one more thing to say,” Leo rasped from the driver’s seat.
“What?” she whispered, afraid to look at him again. So she was startled when his big hand cupped the back of her head and tugged her toward him. The world’s softest kiss landed on her lips, and she returned it on instinct. For one beautiful moment, everything went silent inside her. As his lips caressed her own, she stopped hearing the echoes of a hundred worries. All she heard instead was her own sigh, and the soft sound Leo made from deep inside his chest.
Then it was over. He pulled away, leaving Georgia bereft in the passenger seat.
“That will have to hold me,” he said under his breath as he turned away.
Georgia got out of the car on shaky knees and grabbed the door. It took all her willpower to close the door and turn away.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Leo’s head was not in a good place as he hung his suit in the locker and pulled on his Bruisers workout kit. Something was wrong, and it pissed Leo off not to be told what. It didn’t seem fair.
But Georgia had always been fair. That was one of the things he loved about her. Whether it was tennis, gin rummy, or love, she’d always been honest and true. She always gave it to him straight.
So why not now? What could be so scary that it could not be discussed?
She wasn’t afraid of sex. Commitment? That didn’t sound like her. Was she afraid that he wasn’t committed? Hell. He’d get down on a knee and pop the question if he thought it wouldn’t scare her off. Her dad would have a coronary.
Leo chuckled to himself just imagining it.
He left the dressing room, but hesitated in the hallway. The lounge wasn’t appealing to him, because food and company weren’t what he needed right now. Instead, he headed into the stretching room, which was empty. He sat down on the mats and began to loosen up his hamstrings, reaching slowly for the arches of his feet and breathing deeply. The yoga instructor would be so proud. Then he got up on one knee to stretch his hip flexors.
The stretching routine almost worked. But Georgia’s tentative face kept looming in his memory. The bittersweet smile she’d given his mother before they’d left after dinner . . .
Argh. Here he was worrying about her again. When there was a hockey game that needed winning.
“Hey,” Silas said from the doorway. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” Leo flopped back onto the mat and lifted his legs to stretch his lower back. “What’s up?”
Silas came into the room and sat on the neighboring mat. “Remember I told you that your room had a fucking eject button under it?”
“Shit.” He remembered that all too well. “Why do you ask?”
“I have a buddy in Vancouver. We played together in college.”
“Yeah?”
“He called me to say that he and I might be teammates again. There’s a rumor that he’s going to be traded to Brooklyn.”
Leo sat up fast. “Wait. Traded for who?”
Silas winced. “For you, man. I wasn’t sure I should even mention it. Don’t want to throw you off your game tonight. But . . .” He cleared his throat. “I know you have some complications here. Thought you could use the heads-up.”
Leo wasn’t one to panic. It was one of the reasons that he did so well at hockey—he was calm whenever things swerved in an unexpected direction. So this news didn’t throw him into a tailspin. If another NHL team wanted him, that meant his stock in the league was rising. But . . .
Georgia.
“Christ,” he said. And then a chuckle rose up in his chest. A few things became clear to him all of a sudden. Georgia wasn’t afraid of commitment. She was afraid that he was about to be shipped several thousand miles away. He laughed, feeling better than he’d felt all day.
“Are you going to let me in on the joke?” Silas asked. “I like gallows humor.”
Leo shook his head. “It’s just a cosmic joke, right? The universe is giving me the runaround today. But I’m good. It will all work out.” Either he’d be traded or not. “You’ll have a roommate either way, man. Me or your buddy from college.”
Silas shook his head. “That’s not the reaction I expected.”
“Eh. There are worse things. Maybe this will get me out of the next black-tie benefit.”
“Now that’s looking on the bright side. I got that e-mail today, too. Don’t forget to put your date’s name in by the end of the week. Maybe that Amy chick is available to accompany you.” Silas cackled.
“Aren’t you funny. But you know what? Last time you didn’t have a date at all. How’d you get away with that?”
“I could tell you my secret, but it’ll cost you.” The goalie hooked one ankle over the other one and grinned. “Your favorite publicist makes a date mandatory because she thinks it improves our behavior if there’s women at every table.”
Leo snorted. “Hell. She’s probably right. How do you get around it? I’ll pay up.”
“This one’s on me. But don’t tell anyone. You just make up a name. Put any name on the list. Then, the night of the party, your fictional date stands you up. It’s the simplest thing in the world. And the bonus is that if it’s a sit-down dinner, you can eat twice. Some of these fancy caterers are stingy.”
“God, that’s so obvious. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Silas pointed to his head. “Genius. Right here.”
“I’m using that. Because it’s been a shitty day, and I won’t be able to convince a certain publicist to be my date.”
“No?” Silas shook his head. “Sorry.”
So was Leo. Although now he knew why Georgia was freaking out. She must have heard the trade rumor in the C-suite. Maybe Becca told her.
He’d just have to ride it out. Over the next few days the trade would either happen or not. And if it did, he’d make it clear to her that they still weren’t over. Vancouver to Brooklyn was a hell of a distance. But the end of the season was just a few months away. They could have the summer together . . .
“Silas Kelly!” Coach Karl barked from the doorway. “Can you play tonight?”
The goalie shot to his feet. “Of course.”
Coach tapped the doorframe. “Good. Because it seems that Beacon has a touch of food poisoning. He keeps claiming he’ll be okay, but he hasn’t left the bathroom stall for forty-five minutes.”
“I’m ready,” Silas promised. “I’ll stretch out now.”
“You do that. Then I want you huddled up with the goaltending coach. Puck drops in
ninety minutes.” He disappeared.
When he was gone, Silas cursed under his breath. “A little warning would have been nice.”
“I feel ya.” This would be Silas’s first game for Coach Karl. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been told yesterday or this morning that he’d be minding the net tonight. “You got this,” he said.
Silas gave him a salute, then sat down in the straddle position to stretch.
Leo left him there and went to see if the elimination soccer game was in progress yet.
* * *
Ninety minutes later, Leo felt calm and ready to play. His head was in the right place, and he felt strong and in control during his first few shifts on the ice. If Coach was going to ship his ass to Canada next week, at least he’d go out looking like a champ.
The Rangers were a formidable team, but he knew if they kept their heads in the game they had a chance to prevail. The game was scoreless after ten minutes. Leo, Bayer, and the other forwards kept the pressure up, even if the opponent’s excellent blueliners thwarted their best attempts at scoring.
Patience, Leo reminded himself. He’d keep taking shots, and create a scoring opportunity. Soon.
Or maybe not. Because when Bayer got pinched into the corner by the other team’s defensemen, he lost control of the puck. Their opponents passed to a capable forward, who broke toward the Bruisers’ net.
O’Doul positioned himself perfectly to intercept the guy. It should have been fine. But their sniper took a long wrist shot. It wasn’t particularly fast or hard to read. But Silas adjusted his stance poorly, overreacting to the angle.
The puck edged past the butt of his stick blade and went in.
Twelve thousand fans yelled “NOOOOO” in unison, even as the lamp lit.
O’Doul skated down to Silas, and Leo heard him say, “Shit happens, kid. Shake it off.”
Unfortunately for all of them, Silas did not shake it off.
He looked shaky during the rest of the first period, and although Coach Karl gave an inspiring sermon during the break, the second period was a complete disaster. The skaters fought hard, but the Rangers smelled blood between the pipes. The way they drew a penalty on O’Doul was practically an art form. Then they gave it everything they had on the power play, scoring during the first thirty seconds of their advantage.