Chapter Twenty-Three

Zach: It’s been almost two weeks since your last text. Call me, please. At least let me know you’re all right.

Zach: Thank you for getting that message to me through your brother. It’s good to know you’re doing well. But I don’t understand why you haven’t called…

Zach: We really need to talk.

Zach: It’s hard not to assume the worst. Why are you ignoring my messages? This will be my last one until you come back. I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Don’t hold back for my sake. You know there’s nothing I value more than the truth.

Becky looked over Zach’s texts one last time before tucking her phone in her purse and leaving her car in the Delgado Forum underground parking lot. This was her first day back at work after three weeks in Gaspe. From late August to mid-September a lot seemed to have changed. She’d noticed the construction outside the forum to add the new giant outdoor screens was done. The weather was a little chillier. Her daughter had started kindergarten that morning in her new school—late, but the transfer had taken longer than expected since her lawyer was on vacation and she hadn’t had all the papers the school had wanted.

Her daughter hadn’t gone to day care since there were always friends or family around to watch Casey while she was at work, so this first day of school was hard. For Becky, not her little girl. Casey was a little social butterfly in the making. Before Becky had managed to force herself away from the door to the classroom, Casey had struck up conversation with two little boys and a girl about the Cobra jersey she’d insisted on wearing that morning. The number 20 and the Bower name were partially hidden by Casey’s curly ponytail, but Casey wasted no time letting the other children know that the Cobra’s goalie was her uncle Landon.

Casey seemed happy. Which made it a little easier for Becky to leave her. But only a little. She would be working late today with the team’s five-hour practice, including medical examinations and photographs. Since Landon was on injury reserve, he wouldn’t be attending camp. So he’d offered to pick Casey up after school.

Everything was scheduled perfectly. She didn’t even have to worry about making supper because Dean had invited her and Casey over. But her life still felt like one great big mess. She’d barely made it here in time to grab a coffee before she met with Mr. Keane and the Cobra’s staff. They’d all fit in an extra meeting just to update her because she hadn’t been at the meeting earlier that week. The season was about to start and she wasn’t even close to ready.

Most of all, she wasn’t ready to see Zach again. Because all she could say to him was “I’m sorry.” And that didn’t cut it. She wouldn’t have been able to forgive him if he’d done this to her. Disappeared without calling or making it clear that “I love you” hadn’t been meaningless words spoken in the heat of the moment. Damn it, she did love him. She’d tried to stop, but her heart rejected her best efforts. And found a way to counter every objection her brain came up with.

He loves someone else.

Could she honestly say Scott meant nothing to her?

Casey needs stability.

She’d never met a more stable man than Zach.

It’s too soon.

She’d been alone for years. Zach hadn’t asked her to marry him. And he’d done everything in his power to fit into her life. Given her all the space she’d asked for.

What if he’s not ready to deal with a woman who has a kid?

But she’d seen how Zach was with Casey at the park. She hadn’t been sure about asking him to come along, but Casey loved the attention he gave her. And when Casey was bratty, Zach turned to Becky before saying a word to her. He respected Becky as a mother. As a woman. What more did she want?

He’s a hockey player. The game will always come first.

The game. Scott. She could think of a dozen things that would take a bigger role in Zach’s life than her and Casey. But even then, she knew she was reaching. Digging deep to convince herself this wouldn’t work out. She wanted it to work, so very badly, that it scared her. Zach could probably quiet all her fears with a few words, but that scared her even more. Because she could handle being disappointed if Zach couldn’t follow through. But Casey couldn’t. She already looked at Zach like he was some kind of hero just because he was a Cobra. Every moment he spent with her was like living out some kind of fairy tale. She’d never come right out and said it, but her little girl fantasies, whispered as she lay her head on her pillow at night, told Becky everything she needed to know.

“I’m gonna marry a hockey player, Mommy.” Casey blushed and hugged her little stuffed polar bear tight. “And I want one to be my new daddy. I can have a new daddy, right? My old daddy doesn’t like me very much. He said so.”

“He wouldn’t—he loves you, Casey.” Becky’s heart had stuttered at the conviction in her baby’s voice. She brushed her fingers lightly over Casey’s hair. “What makes you say that, poupée?”

“He said I was expensive. And messy. I tried not to be messy, Mommy.” Casey’s bottom lip quivered. “I really did.”

I could kill you for hurting my baby, you bastard.

All right, maybe homicide was a little extreme, but it was a good thing he wasn’t close enough to tempt her though as she gathered Casey in her arms. And choked out the words she had to say in a nice calm tone because it was what her daughter needed to hear.

“Grown-ups say silly things sometimes, Casey. I get upset when you smear peanut butter on the cupboards, and the fridge, and the floor.” She tickled Casey until her little girl was wiggling, and giggling, and happy again. “You know I still love you, right?”

Becky hauled her purse strap over her shoulder and grabbed a box of files from her trunk. Damn it, she was tired of trying to defend that man. Casey was a smart little girl. And Patrick wasn’t very good at hiding how he really felt. He’d lost interest in being a father years ago. He insisted on seeing Casey because he considered it his right. Not because he really wanted to. And a child like Casey would see through his half-assed efforts.

Damn you, Patrick.

Pushing the parking lot door open with her hip, Becky moved into the wide hall beyond, almost getting knocked over by the four men running down the long stretch, dragging stacked plate weights on thick ropes behind them. She fumbled with her folders, smiling gratefully at Tim when he came to her side to take the box from her.

“Thank you.” She shook her head as she watched the men slap the wall at the end of the hall, then turn to run in the other direction. “I didn’t realize camp had started already. It’s scheduled for 9 a.m.”

“It hasn’t started yet. A few of the boys wanted to warm up together. The press isn’t allowed in here. We make them park outside so the men have a place to kick the ball around, or do stuff like this.” He grinned as Luke Carter pulled ahead of the other men, shouting back taunting remarks that had them all pushing harder. Ian White was only a few steps behind him, but Shawn Pischlar and Bobby Williams, one of the team’s eldest players, struggled to keep up. “It’s good for them, giving more than we ask, getting themselves all worked up before they even hit the ice.”

Becky nodded slowly. “True. But this would be good for the fans to see. The reality show Silver signed the team up for is supposed to be all access.”

“Becky, I know it’s your job to be the go-between with the team and the media, but we’ve spoken a few times at my brother’s place, and I’d like to think I know what kind of person you are.” He paused, studying her face like a man who wasn’t sure his words would be considered “off the record.” At her nod, he smiled. “I’m their coach. I get to decide how much of this they can take. And I’m telling you they need this one space where they don’t have to worry about the cameras looming.”

As the door opened behind them, Tim shifted over, clearing the way for the team’s temporary leading goaltender, Dave Hunt. The young man didn’t even acknowledge the other players. Or her and Tim. He simply dropped his bags at the end of the hall and took out a tube of tennis balls. Before long he was bouncing four against the wall, catching and letting them loose in the same focused rhythm she’d seen Landon use with the same exercise.

“Hunt is bad with the press.” Tim watched Dave with a solemn expression on his face. “He’s a good kid. Very talented. But he doesn’t mesh with the team, and the media attention throws him off. I’d like you to keep interviews with him to the bare minimum. He may handle it better as he matures, but for now I’m more concerned with him concentrating on the game and not on explaining how he can replace a goaltender who’s already being compared to some of the greats.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I know Landon is your brother. And he’s earned his reputation. But we don’t have him right now. We have Hunt. So I’m going to do what I have to for him.”

“I understand.” Becky mentally crossed off several of the interview requests she’d received for the young man. She moved toward the door at the other side of the hall. “The media obviously has questions about him, but I can redirect them if that would help.”

“It would. And I appreciate this. I understand the press needs as much access to the players as possible, but you’ve kept them away from your brother. Which I fully support.” The heavy metal door shut behind Tim, cutting off the sound of the men ribbing one another as they raced with the weights. “I just hope you can do the same for any other player who can’t take the added pressure.”

“Just let me know who, and I’ll handle it.” Becky took the folders from Tim as they reached the elevator. “Speaking of which, are Zach and Scott here yet? Zach is evasive, but the media loves him. And Scott is always good with a mic in his face.”

“Not so much anymore.” Tim followed her into the elevator, surprising her, his expression remote. “Zach has closed down completely—”

“Closed down?” Her throat tightened and she had to open her mouth just to breathe properly. What the hell did you do to him, Becky? “How bad is it?”

“Nothing bad, sweetie. He’s just not giving the press anything to work with. I think he’s worried about people seeing him with Scott so often.”

Oh. Becky nodded, speaking again before Tim could add anything to that. She didn’t want to hear it from him. “And Scott?”

“Scott is restricted to the usual player clichés during interviews. Don’t expect him to say much more than ‘We’re giving one hundred and ten percent.’ He’ll be more open when discussing his charity efforts, but he’s under the microscope. We need to focus on the positives with him. Keane has been talking to his agent a lot lately. Not really my business, but I’ll do everything I can to give his agent something to work with. Scott’s IC has done a lot to make Scott look good for the team. I wasn’t sure about the guy at first, but there’s no arguing the impact he’s had. I went from dreading dealing with Scott to looking forward to seeing what he can do for the team.”

“I can see that.” A sweet warmth spread through Becky’s chest as she thought about how different Scott was from the man she’d interviewed last year. He could still give any reporter a good story, but there wasn’t much drama to expose. No bunnies coming forward with photos that would get a few hundred dollars thrown their way. He’d cleaned up his act. Not that it should matter much to her. “So I take it they’re not here?”

“No. Zach’s giving Scott a lift and they’re both stuck in traffic.” Tim frowned when Becky gave him a stiff smile. “Becky, I know you and Zach have something. I can’t picture him keeping his relationship with Scott from you. I try not to get involved in my players’ personal lives unless it affects the game. Zach is one of our best players. I haven’t seen anything yet that justifies me butting in, but . . . it hit him hard when you left. You have to talk to him.”

“I know.” Becky took a deep breath. She’d avoided this long enough. She knew she should have called Zach. Or at least answered his texts. Today was the day she stopped finding excuses to hide from him and laid it all out so they both could deal with whatever the future held. Or didn’t. “I’ll wait until after practice. I know it won’t be just you watching him. I don’t want what happens with our relationship changing how he’s judged as a player.”

“He’s not the only player who has a life, Becky.” Tim came with her to her office, glancing over at his brother’s. The door was closed, but the light under the door made it clear Dean was present. “Life doesn’t always make things easy, but the game isn’t much different from any other form of entertainment. The show must go on. We all accept that when we sign on.”

“To a certain extent, yes. But some players want a family and some don’t.”

“Some don’t.” Tim inclined his head. Then fixed her with a hard stare. “But Zach does. And I’m not saying this as just his coach. Becky, you’ve become part of my family through Landon and my brother. I’ve tucked your daughter in almost as often as they have. And you never questioned her getting too close to me or Dean or my mother. You know we’re not going anywhere.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Zach isn’t going anywhere either.”

“You don’t know that, Tim. I know Dean will never leave Silver. The way he is with Amia . . .” Her eyes teared. That little girl would never lack for love. “She might as well be his. And you and your mother have accepted that little baby as though she is blood. It’s awesome, but it’s a lot to ask of any man.”

“Not too much to ask of a man who truly loves a woman.”

“Maybe. But I’m not ready to ask for that kind of commitment.” Becky focused on laying her files out on her desk. They made sense. Everything on those papers was printed out in black and white, leaving no room for doubt. “I will talk to him. But that’s all I can tell you. The rest is private, and I hope you can respect that.”

“I can. But, Becky . . .” Tim put his hand over hers as she flipped through the files, preventing her from losing herself in the job and all the things that were so very simple. “He loves you. You’d have to be blind not to see it.”

“And the game? You’re going to tell me he doesn’t love it more?” Not just the game either. Scott. How much love did one man really have to give? “You consider my daughter family, Tim? Consider what it will do to her if Zach can’t be the man she needs him to be. Forget me. Think of my precious little girl and tell me I should go for it.”

Tim pressed his hand to her cheek and met her eyes. “Casey is part of my family. I love her as much as if she was my own. As much as I love Amia. You want an answer? It won’t be the one you want to hear. If I had to trust a man to be there for that little girl, to be the man her father can’t be?” He let his hand fall to his side, his tone gruff with emotion. “I couldn’t give that trust to just anyone. Dean? Absolutely. I’ve seen how he is with Landon’s kid. She will always have him, no matter what happens. You aren’t alone Becky. Dean considers you one of ours as much as I do. Casey also has your parents. And mine. But she needs to know her mother isn’t afraid to love. There’s a big difference between several ‘Uncles’ and a man she can call ‘Daddy.’ You can tell by the way she talks about Patrick that ‘Daddy’ is nothing but a label. I doubt that will change.”

“I know it won’t.”

“Then go for it, Becky,” Tim said. He glanced toward the door at a soft knock. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey.” Dean gave his brother a searching look. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” Tim squeezed Becky’s shoulder, smiling and nodding at her whispered, “Thank you.”

Alone in her office, Becky tried to focus on her work, but her mind kept slipping to how badly she’d screwed up. She’d done all the things to Zach that she’d warned Scott not to do. It would serve her right if he didn’t forgive her.

But she wouldn’t assume anything. She knew him well enough to figure out that he’d come looking for her once he was done on the ice. But after what she’d pulled, the idea of him needing to search for her didn’t sit right. She’d go to him. Tell him everything. And let him take the lead for once.

He wouldn’t know that she was done hiding, though. She didn’t want to disturb his performance in front of the trainers, but there must be a way to get the message to him before he felt like he had to chase her down.

She pulled a pad out of her top drawer. Took a deep breath. And wrote a message that hopefully wouldn’t come across as just another way to avoid him. Because she was done with that.

Dear Zach, I was so, so very wrong to leave the way I did. There’s a lot we need to talk about. I’m ready, but I don’t know if we should have this conversation here. I’ll wait for your text. Tell me where and when you’d like to meet.

I haven’t shown it, but I still love you very much.

Yours Always, Becky:

She read the letter over several times under her breath, her hands shaking as she resisted the urge to crumple it and just send Zach a short text. A text seemed so cold and impersonal. He deserved better.

After folding the letter, she put it in an envelope. Sealed it and went straight down to the men’s empty changing room. She could hear some of the men lingering in the lounge and the locker room, so she quickly slid the envelope into Zach’s locker and slipped out.

If she wanted to finish early enough to speak to Zach, she had to hustle. Keeping busy made it a bit easier not to wonder what he would think about the note. About how mad he must be. About whether or not he’d be willing to give her a chance.

But she didn’t let those thoughts distract her from her work. If there was one thing she hadn’t doubted when it came to her relationship with Zach, it was that he respected her devotion to her job and her family. He wouldn’t want her giving them less because she wanted to give him more.

If he still wants more.

And if he didn’t?

She powered on her computer, typing in her password, done with letting her thoughts sway back and forth. If he didn’t want her anymore, it was exactly what she deserved. She’d be alone again.

Her life would go on. The only thing that would change is she’d miss what she’d almost had and she’d always wonder . . . wonder what could have been if she’d been just a little stronger.

* * * *

Scott’s skates glided across the ice, moving him faster and faster as he completed yet another lap across the rink. Coach blew the whistle and had the players stand off to the side near the benches so they could take turns practicing their shots. When it was his turn, he raced toward Ingerslov, feinted five-hole shot, then fired high glove-side.

“Nice!” Tim shouted. “Again!”

Heading in the other direction, Scott fixed his sights on Hunt. The young goalie came out too far and Scott skidded around him, zipping the puck toward the net.

Hunt dove sideways. The puck hit his outstretched glove. And trickled over the line after clinking against the goalpost.

“Fuck!” Hunt pushed to his feet, slamming the back of his elbow into the goalpost. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d shut the door on an impressive ninety percent of the shots. Every time one got by him, he snapped.

“Cool it, Hunt.” Tim blew his whistle and gestured for the assistant coaches to take over, skating over with the goalie coach to speak to the rookie goalie.

Scott took his time joining his teammates for face-off practice. Yeah, he was being nosy, but he had to know how Tim was going to handle the temperamental net minder.

“You’re not going to shut out every game, kid. How you recover after letting one by is what will determine the outcome of the game—Demyan, get over here since you’re not interested in working on the face-off.”

Scott ducked his head and skated closer to the two coaches and Hunt. “Sorry, Coach.”

“Don’t be. You’re one of our best shots. Work with Nate and Hunt for a bit,” Tim said, inclining his head to the goalie coach, Nate Olive, before joining the rest of the team.

For about an hour, Scott worked with Nate and Hunt, changing directions, taking shots from the point, rushing the net, giving Hunt the opportunity to make saves from different angles. When Tim called for the break, Scott took off his helmet and grinned at Hunt. The kid had to feel better now. He’d blocked most of Scott’s shots.

Hunt’s lips curved slightly at the edges, as though he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite remember how. His black hair was soaked when he took off his helmet and his cheeks—covered spottily with his attempt to grow a beard—was red with exertion. But his eyes were shining with the energy of a young athlete who knew he was at the top of his game.

“Glad you’re on our team, Demyan.” Hunt dropped his helmet on top of the net, then squirted some water into his mouth and over his head. “You’ve got good hands.”

That was the first nice thing Hunt had ever said to anyone on the team. Him saying it to Scott after their scuffle was pretty impressive. “Thanks!” Scott slugged Hunt’s shoulder. “You didn’t make it easy, rookie.”

“So he’s good, Demmy? We’ll see about that!” With a boyish laugh, Vanek burst on to the ice, zipping around the rink as the men who hadn’t left yet called out greetings and questions. Tim stood by the open door to the home bench, arms folded over his chest, failing miserably at his attempt to look displeased about Vanek’s cockiness. The smile he barely contained and the gleam in his eyes seemed like he was trying not to cheer.

Good news?

“Get your helmet back on, Hunt! Want to see if I’m rusty.” Vanek circled the rink, kicking a few pucks on to the red line. “I’ll even be nice and let you know where each shot’s gonna go.”

Scott rolled his eyes, sliding out of the way as Hunt and Vanek prepared to face off. “What are you doing here, Vanek? Thought you were holed up with the doctor?”

“I was. But he said I’d better get out here if I want to be ready for the first game.” Vanek’s blue eyes practically glowed as the men shouted cheers and surrounded him. Someone must have gone to the locker room to tell the other guys because within seconds, the whole team was flooding the ice, hugging Vanek and passing him around like he was some kind of trophy.

Mason grabbed the kid from Carter, trapping him in a bear hug and bumping helmets. “It’ll be damn good to have you back, kid. Guess the doc said you need to see how you can take a hit?”

“Yeah . . .” Vanek groaned as Scott gave him a facewash. “Damn it, Demmy! Get off!” He laughed when Scott looped an arm around his neck. “I was worried that no one would want to hit me, but you’ll have no problem, right?”

“None at all.” Scott glanced back to where Hunt had stayed between the pipes, helmet on, mask down, steadily skating grooves on to the blue ice. He looked ready. Scott shoved Vanek away from the crowd of players, gesturing toward the young goalie. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Vanek nodded, then glided up to the line of pucks. He rushed at Hunt, his skates moving in a blur. “Top shelf.”

Hunt braced himself, dropping at the last second and closing his pads as though sure Vanek would go for a low shot despite what he’d called. The puck hit the mesh inside the top of net. As Vanek had said. Top shelf.

“Did I confuse you?” Vanek asked, spraying up snow as he stopped at the edge of the goal crease. “You do know what top shelf is, right?”

“Fuck you.” Hunt dropped his stick and his gloves, skating to the bench without taking off his helmet. The men watched him leave without a word, conversation resuming uncomfortably, the excitement from before slightly dimmed.

The worst thing was, Vanek didn’t seem to get that he’d done anything wrong. His gaze trailed Hunt for a split second before he went to chat up White and Pischlar. Scott wasn’t all that surprised though. Vanek had every reason to be excited.

But his presence pushed Hunt even further from the inner circle of the team. Maybe that was why he was cool with Scott. More often than not, Scott was outside of the circle too.

“Demyan?” Mason called from just beyond the small group of players that had encompassed Vanek yet again. Mason caught Scott’s eye and jerked his chin in the direction Hunt had disappeared.

Right. Us outcastes have to stick together. But it didn’t bother Scott as much as it would have once. Spending all the time he had with Zach over the past few weeks got him used to the guys being relaxed with Zach, but not overly chatty. Zach kept a professional relationship with the other players unless he considered them friends. And he picked those carefully. Being among the few Zach let close meant a hell of a lot more to Scott than being Mr. Popular.

Most of the guys would say “Hey” to Scott and go on with their day. At least they weren’t giving him dirty looks anymore.

He ditched all his equipment by his stall, then found Hunt in the training room doing his fitness test. On a bike with tubes and wires all hooked up, the team doctor, a physical therapist, and a research director taking notes of his endurance and heart rate and all the fun stuff. After a torturously long span of going at full speed, the doctor turned off the machines, removed all the monitoring stuff, and let Hunt cool down at a slower pace for a few minutes.

When Hunt got off the bike, he immediately tore off his shirt and used it to dry the sweat from his face. Scott stood in the doorway, thumbs hooked to the pockets of his shorts, really looking the rookie goalie over for the first time. For a twenty-year-old, he was pretty big. An inch or so shorter than Scott, but at least ten pounds heavier. He doubted the kid had even five percent fat. A few of the guys in the locker room were going to have to bust their ass to get back in game form, but Hunt seemed like the type who had two modes. Playing the game and getting ready to play the game.

Hunt inclined his head in thanks when the doctor handed him a bottle of water. “How’d I do?”

“Excellent. Thirteen minutes and you’re the first one who’s come in here that I don’t have any advice for.” The doctor grinned and patted Hunt’s shoulder. “Whatever you’re doing, continue.”

That perked the kid up. Hunt nodded and smiled at the doctor in a way that made it even more obvious how young he was. He soaked in the praise like a dried-out sponge dropped in a bucket of water. “Thanks, Doc.” His smile faded, his brow furrowing slightly. “But I’ve been trying to put on a few more pounds. Nothing I do seems to—”

“Son, at your age, you’re lucky to have this much bulk. Work on maintaining, not building. As you get older, you may gain more weight, but it will be harder to stay in shape. It’ll be a few years before we have to worry about that though,” the doctor said. “Go take a break, then get back on the ice. I’ve got to deal with the slackers.” He turned to Scott, his expression showing that he’d know Scott was there all along. “Speaking of which . . . Mr. Demyan, since you’re here, let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

“I think you’re gonna be surprised, Doc.” Scott smiled, pretty confident that all his time at the gym would pay off. He stopped by Hunt’s side before the boy could walk out. “Hey, you wanna wait for me? Thought we could chill for a bit.”

Hunt shrugged. “Guess so. We’re off until one, right?”

“Right.” That settled, Scott climbed on the bike. The thing to measure his oxygen intake was stuffed in his mouth and a padded clamp pinched his nose closed. Once the other monitors were set up, the research director told him to get started, reminding him to keep the pace at 80 RPM. Scott pumped his legs hard, muscles burning as he fought to keep the reps up. His eyes squinted as moisture dripped into them from his forehead.

“Keep going. Don’t ease up now, Demyan,” Doc said.

His thighs were nothing but bone and wet flesh encasing pulsing flames. He grunted as he forced himself not to slow down just to lessen the heat. Then the resistance on the bike was increased.

“Bring it up to 80. Push it!” The director instructed.

Fire and pain and nothing but a blind need to reach the goal. Scott stared at the monitor in front of him. 76, 78, 73, 75 . . . 80! Go, go, go!

The agony in his muscles dissolved and a rush of pure energy took over. Scott felt like he could keep going forever. Then like he had been doing this forever. That burst of energy burned out and he huffed into the tube as his lungs seared in his chest.

83, 79, 73, 65 . . . Fuck!

“All right, slow it down.” Doc removed the tube and the clamp. “Not bad, Mr. Demyan. Nine minutes. Do you smoke?”

Scott panted as he leaned his forearms on the bike’s handlebars. It took him a while to get enough air to speak. “Not usually. I might have once or twice this summer.”

“Hmm.” Doc went over the report with the other two experts quietly, then brought Scott a bottle of water. “You’re in decent shape, but I’d like you to work on your cardio. Morning runs, time on the bike, whatever you can do for at least an hour, pushing yourself harder at intervals of about ten minutes. The trainer may have more suggestions for you, but in any case, you’re going to have a hard time lasting for a thirty second shift. We don’t want you getting tired out there.”

“No, sir.” Scott did his best to climb off the bike without falling and making himself look even more pathetic. His legs were shaking, but he made it to the door and out of sight of the doctor before he needed something solid to hold him up.

“Damn, did you sleep all summer?” Hunt finished off his water and tossed the empty bottle into the big metal trash can against the wall. “My dad would kill me if I did that bad on the test.”

“Yeah, well fuck you, Hunt.” Scott grinned so Hunt would know he was joking. “I ain’t got anyone on my ass, so I’ve got nothing to worry about. I passed.”

“Barely.” Hunt led the way toward the locker room, lowing his voice as he paused in front of the closed door. “Your boyfriend won’t be mad? I mean, he made the twelve-minute mark and he smokes cigars.”

Scott winced, both because Zach might be disappointed, and because Hunt shouldn’t know enough to bring up “his boyfriend”. “Hey, Zach and me aren’t what you—”

“Fuck, I’m not gonna tell no one. Honestly, I don’t think the people that know give a shit, and most aren’t paying enough attention to have figured it out. You’re fine.” Inside the locker room, Hunt put on a clean T-shirt. The room was empty, which seemed to put him at ease. He wasn’t usually this talkative. “I run if you want to tag along. I mean . . .” He ducked his head. “I could help you.”

“Sure.” Scott changed his own soaked shirt for a fresh one, then grabbed his wallet. “Where you staying?”

“Just a few blocks away—with Olsson.”

Olsson? Damn, the man doesn’t even speak English! Scott studied Hunt as they made their way up the stairs to the main floor. “There’s no one else for you to stay with?”

“White, but he’s a jerk.” Hunt shrugged. “Me and Olsson get along pretty good. Stay out of each other’s way.”

“Got it.” Scott stepped out on to the sidewalk, inhaling deeply, positive his lungs were writing him thank you cards as they spoke. The air was nice and crisp, a little on the cool side. Perfect. “So . . . about you flipping out on the ice—”

“Don’t fucking lecture me, man. It was stupid. Won’t happen again.” Hunt’s strides widened, forcing Scott to ignore the ache in his thighs and quicken his pace to keep up. “You’re the last person who should be telling me how to act.”

“True.” Scott reached Hunt’s side just as he hit the lights. Thank God, they were red. “But I’m working on it. You’re starting out, kid. They don’t have to like you, but with how hard you’re working, they should respect you.”

“I don’t fit into their little clubs.” Hunt scowled. “And I don’t want to.”

“Fine, but you really want to let them see you all messed up? You’re physically tough. You want to make it in the league?” Scott liked that Hunt’s scowl faded, that his expression turned thoughtful as he nodded. The kid was smart. And finally ready to listen. Scott tapped the center of his forehead with a finger. “You gotta be just as tough up here. You don’t wanna make friends on the team, then don’t. But we’ve got to trust that you’re not gonna freak if a bad bounce gets past you. We. Need. You.”

“You’ve got Ingerslov.”

“Seriously?” Scott rolled his eyes. “Ingerslov is a great guy, but we know—hell, he knows—he’s not a starting goaltender. You are.”

Hunt nodded slowly. Then he frowned. “Hey, why are you being so nice to me? I messed with your girl and—”

“She’s not my girl. She is a friend, but I know you tried to make things right. You paid for what you pulled, so me and you are good.”

“Okay . . .” Hunt said, hesitating before he continued. “Still. You’ve got enough shit to deal with.”

“Buddy, I’m not all that complicated. The game is one of the few things in my life that makes sense. I want this team to make it, even if half the guys act like arrogant pricks and the other half wants to be just like them. With a few exceptions.” Zach. Scott took a deep breath as his face heated. Even a brief thought of Zach was enough to trip him up. He wondered if Zach would be okay with him spending the night again. He’d said they’d have to cool it a bit when the season started—Scott should be spending time with his “girlfriend”—but the season hadn’t started yet, so . . . “Anyway, Lord Stanley is end game. We ain’t gonna get our hands on him without someone solid between the pipes. That’s you.”

“But Bower—”

“Won’t be back until what, January? If that?” Scott shook his head. “This is all on you, kid. You up to it?”

Hunt squared his shoulders. Inhaled. Then inclined his head. “Damn right, I am.”

“Good.” Scott stopped in front of the Tim Horton’s, shoving the door open. “We better hurry.”

“Timmy’s?” Hunt scrunched up his face. “Dude, I don’t do coffee and donuts.”

“Dude!” Scott repeated in a mocking tone. This kid was too much. “They serve fucking salads. Suck it up.”

They ordered, found a table, then ate in companionable silence. Hunt checked his phone a few times when it buzzed, clicking ignore. He polished off two salads with chicken strips and no dressing.

Crazy rookie.

Scott finished his panini, then downed the last of his iced cappuccino. He gestured to Hunt with the empty cup. “It was cool, hanging out with you. Wanna go for a beer sometime after camp?”

Hunt considered for a moment, looking embarrassed when he answered. “Demyan, you’re—you’re a great guy.” He paused. “But I’m straight.”

After he’d managed to stop laughing, Scott slapped Hunt’s shoulder. “I won’t hold it against you, sport. Straight guys drink, don’t they?”

“Yeah . . . but . . .” Hunt groaned as his phone buzzed again. “It’s my dad. He’s gonna flip if I keep ignoring his calls.” He stood. “Catch you back at the forum?”

“Sure thing.” Scott waved Hunt off, then looked down at his chocolate-glazed donut. Hell, he loved snacking on sweet stuff, but he’d gained seven pounds in the off-season despite all the workouts. He wasn’t going to start stocking his fridge with greens, but cutting back on junk food might help.

A hand with long, graceful fingers, manicured nails painted a subtle pink, appeared in front of him, stealing his donut. His head shot up and the sight of Becky smiling at him was like a punch in the gut with a fistful of lust.

“I was privy to your test results. I figured it would be charitable of me to remove temptations.” She took a big bite of the donut and made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat. “Oh, this is good.”

“You’re horrible.” He chuckled as she took the seat across from him, licking chocolate glaze from her lips. The gesture was damn sexy, but his blood cooled as he thought of Zach. Of how shitty Becky had treated him. Sitting around joking with her just felt wrong. He moved to stand. “I’ll let you finish that.”

“Scott, please don’t go.” Becky set the rest of the donut on a napkin by a tray holding four cups of coffee. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I . . . uh . . . saw you with Dave Hunt on my way here. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard everything you said to him. He needed that.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Scott didn’t want to care what she thought. She’d hurt Zach, and the worst thing was that at the sight of her, he’d almost forgotten all about how bad it had been. She looked so fucking beautiful in her white suit, her rich mahogany hair pulled away from her face in a fancy bun. He usually liked his women fast and loose, but this was Becky. She’d managed to do more than get under his skin. Try cracking his ribs open to reach straight into his heart. But Zach was there too. So Scott kept his tone carefully neutral. “I do what I’ve gotta do.”

Becky sat back, her gaze fixed steady on his face. “You’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I’d be mad at you if you treated Zach the way I have.”

“How’s that?”

“Damn it, Scott!” Becky’s eyes glistened as she pushed away from the table and stood. “Never mind. You don’t want to talk to me, fine. But just say so. I can’t handle you being all cold. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to say what I did—”

Whoa. What? “To me? What did you say to me that you need to be sorry about?”

“You’re not a snack. That’s what I wanted you to be. Because I’m afraid of the competition. You’re so much easier for him to love.”

“When is love ever easy? Should it be?” Scott had to clamp his lips shut to keep any more shocked words from coming out. Becky considered him competition? Was she crazy? “If anyone should feel threatened, it’s me. All you have to do is tell Zach how sorry you really are. That you’ll be his good little sub. That you were scared and that I’m a problem for the two of you.” His throat tightened. He took her hands in his. “He’ll choose you. No fucking doubt about it.”

“Don’t do that, Scott. Don’t try to make how he feels about you into something that can be thrown away.” She hunched her shoulders and stared at the table. “It’s real.”

He sat back and let out a bitter laugh. He knew how this would end. If she wanted Zach back, she’d have him. “He has to decide between us.”

“Does he?”

“Not from my end.” Scott placed his hands on the table, palms down. He wouldn’t fight her on this. He knew how she felt about Zach. How Zach felt about her. He wouldn’t complicate things by sticking himself in the middle. “I get it. Zach is everything you need, so long as he can let me go. I can make him.” He couldn’t look at her as he spoke. It killed him just to say the words. “I will, because it’s what’s best. For both of you.”

Becky stood and picked up the coffee tray. “I have to go, but you need to think about what you’re saying. I pushed you toward Zach because I knew there was something between you two. He gave in only because he knows there’s something between you and I. I made a mess of everything, but that changes nothing.”

Scott frowned. “How do you figure?”

“Scott, you’re not a snack. It was despicable for me to put that label on you. You’ve worked so hard to make yourself into a better player. A better person. And I undermined that.” She turned her hand to hold his. “I’m disgusted with myself for what I said to you. But I’m asking . . . I’m begging for another chance. I have no idea how this is going to work. But . . .”

“You want it to?”

Her grip tightened on the edges of the cardboard tray. She gave a sharp nod. “Yes.”

“Good enough for me.” The pressure on his chest diminished. He didn’t have to let Zach go. And he had a shot with a woman he couldn’t forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was like a goal in overtime of game seven of the first round in the playoffs. Enough to stop his heart and get him thinking about the impossible. The unbelievable. But even after that goal, there were still a ton of challenges to face. To overcome. And he, Becky, and Zach would be dealing with no less. “You need to tell him all this. It won’t be easy.”

“I know.” Becky pulled herself up straight, looking like she could take on the hardest check from the biggest man in the league and not even spill the coffees she held. “I left him a note. I hope you’re there when he reads it. He’ll need someone who gets what’s going on. Someone who can support him whether or not he decides to put up with me being a head case.”

“You’re not a head case, Becky. You’re a mom and you married an asshole.”

Scott suddenly understood why this sweet woman struggled so much with a relationship that should be so perfect. And the understanding came like a wrecking ball crashing right into the center of his chest. If Becky felt like she had to make a choice, Casey would always come first. Which was good. That precious little girl had all the love she needed. And it didn’t cost her a thing. Shouldn’t. Because Casey was a good kid. Not like he’d been.

But this wasn’t about him.

“Casey’s birthday is in October, right?” His tongue ran over his teeth. “I got her something.”

Becky stared at him. “You did? Why?”

No way could he explain how he’d spent the past few weeks making Casey’s gift. That he’d gotten the idea when he’d helped move the furniture into the freshly painted room. But he spoke before his brain kicked in. “Because she’s special. She’s yours. She’s a Bower and Landon . . . Landon fucking rocks. I know he doesn’t like me, but he’s the man. Don’t you dare tell him I said that!”

She laughed. “I won’t. But it means a lot to me that you think so much of my family. Scott . . . you’re more than I expected. More than I could have hoped.”

“All right, so . . .” Scot held the door open for her as they left Tim Horton’s. “Whatever Zach decides . . . can I drop her gift off the night before her birthday? It’s kinda big and I wanted it to be a surprise first thing, you know?”

“That’s fine.” Becky held the coffee tray with one hand and touched his forearm. “But . . . no expectations. You won’t be coming over for—”

“Christ, Becky. I’m not using your daughter’s birthday as an excuse to fuck you.”

“I know that!” Becky held his wrist, forcing him to stay by her side. “It’s only . . . until he decides otherwise, Zach is my Dom. His rules. If . . . or when anything happens between us, I need to be sure he’s okay with it.”

“No one wants to know if I’m okay with it?” Scott cut his laugh short when Becky stared at the sidewalk. She wasn’t playing around. He might not completely understand the dynamics in the whole lifestyle thing, but he accepted it. “Zach’s call. Got it.”

He walked with Becky to the elevator in the forum, leaving her to go up to the offices while he went down to the rink. He managed to focus on the instructions from the trainers and the coaches until training was done and all the men were back in the locker room. Zach lingered on the ice as the coaches went over plans for the season, open to suggestions from Zach and Mason, both who’d spent a lot of time with the players in the off-season.

But the game and everything else became meaningless when he saw Zach take the envelope out of his locker. Zach spent a long time reading it over before setting it on the bench by the towel he’d used to dry his hair. He dressed in the black jeans and the plain black T-shirt he’d worn to training. His breath, his tone, was slow and measured as he faced Scott.

“Would you mind hanging around for a bit? I need to . . .” Zach raked his short fingernails over the close-shaved brown hair on his scalp. “I need to see her. And I need you around when we’re done.”

You won’t be done. Ever. Scott had to believe that. Because Zach would always be missing something if he let Becky go. And Scott wasn’t about to let that happen. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

“So you know what I have to do?”

“Yeah, I do.” Scott framed Zach’s jaw with his hand, pressing their lips together, fucking grateful that everyone else was gone so he didn’t have to hold back. “But I don’t think you know. Not yet. Hear her out.”

“I will. But I want you to understand something.” Zach curved his hand around the back of Scott’s neck, holding his gaze until Scott could feel the intensity of it deep down in his core. “You are not an option.”

“Zach—”

“You’re not an option. When I told you I love you, I meant it. Nothing she says or does will change that.” Zach closed his eyes and sighed. “I have no idea what that means for the three of us. If you asked me to leave her . . . I couldn’t. The same goes for her asking me to leave you. I’m torn. It’s not fair to either of you, but it is what it is.”

“Zach. Shut up.” Scott kissed Zach again, harder. Longer. Until he knew the man didn’t have enough air in his lungs to talk any more stupid shit. He’d get exactly what he wanted. If Scott could get past him and Becky trying to make sense of things in a conventional way. Sometimes life didn’t fit into a neat little box. He could deal with that better than either of them. “You two chat. But don’t decide anything. Because that’s where I come in. I’ve got this.”

“Really?” Zach arched a brow, his gaze intent. “How so?”

Hell, don’t ask. I’m winging it. Scott shrugged, feigning that he had it all figured out, hoping that he wasn’t too far off. “Trust me.”

“I do, Scott,” Zach said. “I shouldn’t, but I have to trust someone.”

This is not good. Scott watched Zach text Becky, his jaw hard as he shook his head at whatever reply she sent. Zach called her, pacing away from Scott as he spoke.

“You don’t need to leave work early to speak to me. I’ll come to your office.” He paused, his brow creasing slightly. “Is there any reason either of us would be shouting? Whatever the outcome, this will be a civil conversation.” He nodded. “Yes. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Zach dropped his phone into his sports bag. He picked the bag up by the strap and handed it to Scott. Then he made a rough sound in his throat, pulling Scott close, his lips sliding over Scott’s in a soft kiss.

“Swear you’ll talk to me before taking off again.” Zach drew in a sharp inhale. “Hell, wake me up in the mornings you’re at my place, no matter how early it is. I can’t keep doing this—can’t keep wondering what I’ve done wrong.”

“I swear it.” Scott grabbed Zach’s shoulder before he could back away. He stared at the man until Zach met his eyes. “Hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Good.” Scott let him go. Then he grinned. “Now go schedule our first threesome. I’ll wait for you in the lounge.”

Zach’s eyes widened as he choked back a laugh. “You’re too much. Who says there’ll be a threesome?”

“What else is there gonna be?” Scott shrugged, but his lips turned up a little at the edges as he thought about holding Becky. Kissing her. Waking up to her all grumpy pre-coffee, wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts. Zach probably thought he was eager to get in her pants—okay, he was—but there was more to it. All that other stuff he hadn’t cared about before Becky and Zach. He cleared his throat. “She won’t do anything with me unless you approve. Easy enough if you’re there.”

“Granted, but your relationship with her won’t revolve around me.” Zach arched a brow when Scott opened his mouth, shaking his head, confused. “Did you think I was going to have you around as a spare, Scott? You’re not going to be an addition to my toy bag, you’re going to be the other man in her life. Which means romance and your own spot in the doghouse when you piss her off.”

“Oh joy. I get a share of all the fun stuff?” Scott gave Zach a dry smile. “I can’t wait.”

Snorting, Zach headed out of the dressing room. “You’re going to love every second and we both know it.”

Damn right, I will. Scott pictured Becky stealing his donut. Her sweet smile and throaty laughter. Yeah, he’d love the good and the bad. Love just knowing she’d belong to him too.