Chapter 16

Center ice in the Barclays Center arena, Dominik stood with the starting line as the Canadian anthem was sung. Over to his left, he could hear Carter belting out the words at the top of his lungs. He’d adopted the ritual after researching the percentage of games they won when he sang compared to the ones they lost when he didn’t.

Other players had their own rituals. Demyan had clearly taken the fifteen minutes he’d gone missing from the locker room with Pearce to carry out his own. He had teeth marks on his throat and his dirty blond hair was a mess. Dominik chuckled as he caught Demyan glancing back at the bench with a lazy smile of satisfaction.

The strangest superstition had to be Bower’s. The goalie had once asked the trainer to retape his stick during the anthem because he hadn’t noticed it had gotten messed up during practice until the last minute. They’d gone on a five-game winning streak after, so naturally Bower now couldn’t play with the same tape he used during practice.

At the moment, one of the younger trainers was standing with Bower’s stick in his hand, waiting for the slight pause between the anthems to finish with the taping. A few feet behind him stood Cam and their mother.

Dominik frowned, confused. Since when were family allowed down by the benches before the game? Cam usually watched from the press box, and his mother had a ticket right behind the penalty box.

Neither looked upset, so they weren’t waiting to give him bad news. That made it a little easier to breathe, because his mind couldn’t help but go over worst-case scenarios. One of his nieces or nephews getting really sick or hurt. Either of his sisters having called because they needed their mother home for some kind of tragedy.

He refused to consider Joshua. He missed his brother, but he’d drive himself insane considering all that could go wrong.

The announcer, who was actually the chief executive officer and owner of the Islanders, stepped onto the red carpet that had been rolled out for the anthem singers. His bald head glistened under the spotlights as he spoke into the mic, a broad smile on his ruddy face.

“In honor of the men and women at home and overseas who serve to protect our great country, the Islanders would like to welcome the West Point Military Academy marching band. We would also like to present a special guest who came a very long way to watch his brother play professionally for the very first time. This player is a veteran of the league, but his brother’s service prevented him from attending any games.”

Dominik held his breath. Blinked and shook his head, sure he was seeing things as a man followed the marching band onto the red carpet.

“Please give a warm round of applause for Staff Sergeant Joshua Mason.”

The rink rushed by as Dominik abandoned his spot with his team. He slammed into his brother, swallowing back a sob as Joshua’s arms wrapped around him. He pulled away for an instant to make sure there was no sign of pain on his brother’s face. His last letter had said nothing about coming home. His letters never revealed much. Not where he was. Where he was going. He tended to focus on questions about how Dominik was doing. The team. Their mother and siblings.

Joshua looked fine. Healthy and whole, if a bit tired. He nodded to Dominik as though to assure him that all was well. Then he pulled him back in for another hug.

“How?” Dominik shook his head, laughing as he quickly dried his eyes with the sleeve of his jersey. “Can you stay? You’re gonna watch the whole game? Maybe hang out after?”

Grinning, Joshua turned as their mother and Cam joined them. He held them all, kissing Mom’s cheeks before he gave his reply. “I’ll be here for the whole game. And you can thank Mom and Cam for setting this up. Cam talked to both teams and they were all for it. But we’re on a time limit. Go win this fucking game and—”

“Joshua! Language!” Their mother looked around as though worried the cameras might pick up her son swearing and judge her.

Inclining his head, Joshua kissed her forehead, then motioned for Cam to take her arm and help her off the ice. The carpet helped, but a wrong step could still put someone on their ass. “I’m sorry, Mom. Let me sing the anthem and I’ll come sit with you. Dominik, I’ll see you after the game.”

Dominik watched Cam and their mother walk away. Then he grabbed Josh’s hand and drew him close. “This was incredible. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Just don’t make me regret it, little brother.” Joshua gave him a light shove and Dominik took the hint.

He got back on the blue line with his team, accepting every big stupid grin from his guys with a nod. The band began to play. His brother’s deep voice joined them.

This time, Carter wasn’t the only one singing. Dominik let his voice join the tens of thousands in the stands. His whole body trembled with excitement as he absorbed the enormity of the chance he’d been given.

Today, it was his turn to make his brother proud.

* * *

Sahara stood in the press box with Cort by her side, not even trying to hold back her tears. But out of the many she’d cried over the years, they weren’t tears of pain or despair. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been happier for anyone in her life.

The cameras had only caught Dominik’s expression for a split second before he’d moved too fast for them to follow, but the shock and joy had been amazing to witness. He loved his brother so much, but he didn’t often let his fear for him show. He’d been strong for his family. For her.

He deserved this moment, and she loved his family for giving it to him. Cort had let her in on the surprise when she’d first come up and she’d been holding her breath, watching Dominik the whole time even though she couldn’t make out his face so far away.

“People are gonna talk, you know.” One of the player’s wives, whom she hadn’t met and seemed too aloof to introduce herself to, sniffed as Sahara dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “They’ll say the Islanders wanted our captain distracted so they’d have the advantage.”

Sahara frowned at the woman. “This is Dominik Mason. He’s the captain for a reason. He’s excited to have his brother back, but his head will be in the game.”

The woman shrugged and focused on the play on the ice. Sahara bit her lip when she saw Dominik miss an easy pass. He recovered quickly, but his wild shot ended up on an Islander stick. He raced to block a pass, dropping hard to cover the goal. The Islander forward changed direction and snapped a pass to another, who sent the puck flying in a blur toward the net.

Carter put himself in the line of fire. The puck struck his skate.

He went down.

The ref froze the play when the Cobras regained possession. The trainers came out, standing back when Carter waved them off. He rose on his blades. Then dropped back to his knees.

“Shit.” Sahara watched the trainer help Carter up. He was maneuvered off the ice with only one skate down. “If his foot is broken—”

“He’ll still play.” Cort grinned when she glanced over at him. “I know the game. Wanna bet he’ll be gone for five minutes, then be right back out there?”

She shook her head, knowing full well Cort was right. Her father had played with broken bones in his foot. He’d come home some days, his foot so swollen she wasn’t sure how he’d get his skate back on. The team doctors had their ways though, and with the stick of a needle and some ice, most would play if they could stand.

By the end of the first period, Carter was back, looking perfectly fine. He wasn’t favoring one side, so maybe it was just a bruise. Or a fracture that would turn into a full break after a few more games.

Hockey players were crazy.

The score was still 0-0. Sahara spent the beginning of the break chatting with Cort and Dean, until Dominik’s mother and brothers were invited up for some refreshments. Sahara sat beside Olivia, sipping the wine a few of the wives had suggested she’d need to keep herself sane for the next two periods. Drinking in front of Olivia had been uncomfortable at first, considering how her own mother had behaved, but Olivia was as good as her son at reading Sahara.

“Enjoy. I’m having some too so we can toast our quick exit from the nuthouse.” Olivia rubbed Sahara’s shoulder, then took a sip of the wine the attendant had brought them. “Mr. Richter, I should thank you for how well you’ve been treating my boys. Honestly, I thought you would spend five minutes with my youngest and then shove him on the next plane back to Chicago.”

Dean looked over at Cam and shook his head. “He’s been on his best behavior, Mrs. Mason.” His lips quirked up to one side. “But if he ever gets out of line, I promise, you’ll be the first one I call.”

“Hey! What about Dommy? Did anyone tell you about the fight he got in with the assistant coach? Over some chick?” Cam was grinning the entire time he ratted out his brother, but then Joshua cuffed him upside the back of the head. And all eyes turned to Sahara.

She remembered the fight all too well. And didn’t even want to think about it. She trusted Dominik. He said things with Oriana were in the past, and she wouldn’t question him because his brother had a big, stupid mouth.

Insulting Cam in front of his mother wouldn’t keep Sahara in her good graces though, so she simply shrugged. “He gets in fights so often on the ice I hardly noticed.”

“Not as often as he used to. Which is good.” Dean sipped his coffee. “The league is changing, and fighting isn’t as accepted as it used to be. A lot of players who were primarily fighters are finding themselves without contracts. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case with Dominik. He’s exactly the leader the team needs and one of our best defensemen.”

Dean’s praise had Sahara’s chest swelling with pride. She exchanged a glance with Olivia, who had a huge smile, as though Dean had just presented her a gold medal.

“I did an excellent job with all my brood. However, I have to admit, when he was little and I had to get him up at five a.m. to hit the rink at six, there were times I hoped he’d find a new hobby. Like playing the saxophone or juggling.” Olivia snickered when her sons gave her horrified looks. “You’re both to blame. You always wanted to come, but you’d whine the whole way. His coaches were saints for putting up with the lot of you. Joshua grew up fast, but for the longest time, Cam would cling to my leg and hide from everyone. It was interesting, to say the least.”

The conversation about the men as children seemed to fascinate Dean, but he tilted his head to one side as though something had occurred to him. “What about your daughters? Did they enjoy going to the rink?”

“When they were very small, yes. But after they hit about five or six, they lost interest in sports.” Olivia gave him a nod of understanding. “Your little one may be very different, what with all her parents so involved in the game. I was happy when my daughters wanted to do girly things, so I encouraged it. Raising three boys without a man around was difficult, but I managed a good balance on my own I think. The girls were in their teens before I really saw the effect of not having a father. Amia is blessed to have two.”

Sahara finished her wine, not sure she had anything to add to a conversation about kids. Or if she even wanted to take part after her mother’s crude comments about not having had them with Grant. She loved Amia and spent a lot of time with Scott’s daughter, Casey, but the idea of having children of her own one day…

Well, it wasn’t as frightening as it had once been. She still made sure never to forget her birth control pills though. When she’d been with Grant, the idea of getting pregnant used to make her physically ill. He’d brought it up a few times, but she’d always used the excuse of her career to get him off the subject. The truth was, even though she hadn’t been able to convince herself to leave him for the longest time, there’d been no way she’d give him a child to take out his anger on.

One of the girls at the self-defense classes she’d taken with Jami and Akira had told them about how her boyfriend had pierced holes in condoms to get her pregnant. He’d thought having a baby would make it harder for her to leave him.

Which might have been true if he hadn’t beaten her to the point that she’d miscarried.

Only on the worst days had Sahara ever considered that her fear of him meant she should get away from him. And fast. But all the nightmares of having children with him, all the fear, the skills she’d gained over time with different shades of makeup for all the stages of healing bruises, had been easy to forget on the good days.

“Sahara, are you all right?” Olivia took her hand, something in her eyes saying she already knew the answer.

Sahara laughed and put down her second glass of wine. “Yes, but I need to stop drinking. I’m getting all maudlin.”

“Understandable after what you went through today.” Olivia stood and held out her hand. “Come, I want to see what kind of goodies they have on that table. They certainly spoil the men who run the show, don’t they?” Leading Sahara to the tables set up along the length of the wall, Olivia took two plates from the stack and handed one to Sahara. “I expect you didn’t eat much today with all the excitement. Oh! Deviled eggs! I love these. Do you?”

Not sure she even wanted to think about food, never mind eat, Sahara nodded absently. She trailed after Olivia, letting Dominik’s mother fill her plate while she commented on the appetizers and pastries laid out.

They brought their plates to the high tables in the corner and sat on the stools. Cort came over a few seconds later, joining them with nothing on his plate but a chocolate muffin. He switched their plates without saying a thing and drew Olivia into a conversation about Joshua’s military service.

“Umm…excuse me?” Sahara pointed at Cort’s plate, then the one he’d stolen from her. “What are you doing?”

He popped one of the deviled eggs in his mouth and chewed slowly, his lips curving upward as he swallowed. “I just got off the phone with Akira. She said you hate any kind of boiled egg, and if you looked sad, I should find you chocolate.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin from the dispenser on the center of the table. “You’re welcome.”

Olivia snickered and continued with her favorite subject.

And Sahara ate her muffin. Which strangely made her feel much better after she’d devoured half of it. Polishing off the rest, she eyed the table. She was actually pretty hungry. Excusing herself, she went back to the table to get in line behind the wives and management who’d gathered.

Her spine stiffened as she caught what the woman, who’d earlier mentioned Dominik being distracted, was saying. “I’m not saying they’re right, but it’s interesting that very few people had a problem when Oriana Delgado was with him. Oriana’s exotic though. I’m not sure where Silver came from. Those skinny little blondes seem to be everywhere.”

“I’m sure most of them bleach their hair,” another woman remarked with a sniff. “What’s sad is they’re not dating different races out of love. It’s a new fad.”

“Some fad!” the first woman sneered. She glanced over, spotted Sahara, and then lowered her voice a little. But not enough that Sahara couldn’t hear every word. “I honestly think this one enjoys the drama. No one pays much attention to those sluts parading around the ice, but she’s constantly in the media for something.”

Appetite lost, Sahara went back to the table. Both Olivia and Cort were watching her with concern, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The women were cruel, ignorant bitches. She could have spoken up, but she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of upsetting her. If she ignored them, they’d eventually go away. Or get bored.

People who set out to hurt others usually stopped striking out when they didn’t get the reaction they wanted. The lesson hadn’t been an easy one to learn. Once, she’d been the type of person to fight back.

But sometimes you just had to be still and quiet. Wait for it to be over. Then find somewhere to lick your wounds. Alone.

Only, she wasn’t given the chance.

Slipping out of the press box, she’d planned to head to the bathroom for a few minutes, but she ended up almost walking into a man she was pretty sure she’d seen around the Delgado Forum. A girl in her early teens with bright pink hair stood beside him, holding a fussy toddler. The little boy hiccupped, his face red, as though he’d been crying.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I was told Mr. Richter would be here.” The balding man looked frazzled. “My name is Dale Pritt and I represent Peter Kral and Heath Ladd. I was to bring Heath’s brother and sister to wait for him.”

Brother and sister? Sahara nodded and opened the door, leading the trio into the room she’d just left. “He’s right in here.” The poor kids were dragging their feet, utterly exhausted. She smiled at the girl. “My name’s Sahara. Your brother is my boyfriend’s roommate. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The girl scowled. “I bloody well doubt it. We weren’t even supposed to be here.” Her scowl faded and a gleam of satisfaction shone in her eyes. “But I called his manager every hour for two days and he finally said he’d bring us.”

“Well, the flight must have been exhausting.” And Heath’s manager deserved a raise. He had taken off to talk to Dean, so Sahara led the kids to the refreshment table. The boy hadn’t spoken yet, so she crouched down, holding a plastic cup. “Do you want something to drink? Maybe a snack?” She glanced up at the girl to include her in the offer. “I can find you somewhere comfortable to watch your brother play.”

“Bran don’t talk much. He likes apple juice though.” The girl folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the table. “I like Mountain Dew.”

After pouring both drinks, Sahara led the kids to the table where Olivia was still sitting with her sons. Olivia and the guys were completely into the game, and Sahara wanted to see how the team was doing. But first, she had to make sure the kids were comfortable.

The girl hopped up on a stool and mumbled thanks when Sahara handed her the cup of Mountain Dew. Bran blew his overgrown, curly blond hair that made him look just like Heath, away from his eyes and held his arms up to Sahara. She lifted him up against her hip, and he took his apple juice.

Watching them, the girl finally cracked a smile. “He likes you. You look a bit like our mom did when she was younger. He’s only seen pictures though.” She bit her lip and stared at her soda. “My name’s Kimber. Like the gun.”

“That’s a cool name.”

“Thanks.” Kimber gazed down at the ice. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know anything about hockey. Heath told me he would teach me, but he’s always busy. I want to be at as many of his games as I can.” She squinted up at the Jumbotron. “Like, are both teams losing?”

“Nope, they’re tied. And if this keeps up, they’ll go to sudden death.” Both kids stared at her, wide-eyed. She grinned. “One thing I know is hockey. I’ll teach you all about it.”

A few minutes later, Dean came over and suggested Sahara bring the kids to the cushioned seats on the small balcony in front of the press box. He’d gotten someone to find blankets for them, so they were all cuddled up as they watched the game.

By the end of the third, Kimber had a pretty good grasp of the game. By the beginning of the first overtime, both kids were asleep.

Sahara managed to stay awake long enough to watch her man score the winning goal. In the third overtime.

Those men… She yawned as she closed her eyes, just for a minute. Are freakin’ machines.