One goal had been called back for interference when the center for Chicago skated into the crease and bumped into me. That was when he’d asked if I was okay. I hadn’t even noticed him there and usually I’d shove them right back out.
“I know. I will, it’s just, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I got back to the room last night, and because André was a smartass, he’d opened his arms and asked if I needed those cuddles. I’d surprised the hell out of myself when I’d fallen into them for the most epic man hug in history. I wasn’t even embarrassed about it. I needed that connection. The feeling I wasn’t alone when I felt like I was living in a swamp.
She was pregnant. And she’d waited so damn long to tell me? And in that time, she’d still avoided a couple phone calls. I understood to an extent. Her world had been shaken up, but instead of leaning on me, the guy who’d always been there for her, she’d pushed me away.
Hadn’t she known I would have jumped my ass on a plane, games be damned, to be there for her in a heartbeat? What did that mean for our future and her ability to trust me?
On top of the bomb she dropped in my lap, I’d had to call Nadia back.
That conversation was about as fun as poking a beehive with a large stick.
“Oh…. Oh…. Does this change things? With us?”
I’d blinked. Because she’d sounded so pained and I was damn tired of that sound coming out of the mouths of women in my life. And us? When in the hell had she thought that? When I opened my mouth to tell her, she’d laughed an awkward laugh with her Russian accent. Told me she didn’t mean it like that. That we’d see each other for the fundraiser event next week and that’d be that.
“At least it worked out for one of us, yes?”
Yeah. Not really. Not since I had no idea how I was going to do this.
“Dubiak. You good?” Coach Vik stood in front of me, and hell, I hadn’t even seen him approach. “Something shaken you? Being around your old team?”
“Nah. It’s not that.” I leaned back in my chair and grabbed my helmet from the floor where it landed earlier. “I’m good. Just a rocky start.”
He assessed me with a glare, slid his gaze to André, who clapped his hand on my shoulder. Without him, I would have had a complete meltdown last night. He was a quiet guy and wouldn’t tell anyone what was going on. Some of the guys, most of the younger ones gossiped worse than I’d ever heard my sister and her friends. André was always on the outskirts of it, listening, maybe chuckling, but he didn’t spill tea unless he was drinking it. “He is good, Coach. I will whip him into shape.”
I rolled my shoulder, throwing off his hand. “Dumbass.”
“Good. You know this team better than anyone, so I won’t sit here and tell you what they’re doing. Just keep stopping them, hear me?”
“Yeah.” I held out my gloved hand, and he punched it. “I got it. No worries.”
He walked away and I stood. The need to move and maybe punch something making me restless. I had to see Lizzie.
We had to figure this out. And there was no way it was going to be over a phone call, video or otherwise.
“Hey Coach?” I lumbered after him, like an elephant on skates in all my gear. “Actually, can we talk?”
His thick gray brows furrowed together and the harsh lights of the locker room bounced off his bald head, making it shine like a bowling ball. “What is it?”
“We’ve got a few days off after this once we get home, yeah?”
“Why?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Coach Vik was a great coach. He’d actually played for the Rangers years ago, back with my buddies Joey and Jude Taylor’s dad. He loved this team, I swore, more than he might have loved his own daughters. His wife had certainly thought so, which was why she left him a few years back. “Need to hang with old friends?”
“No.” Not in the way he was thinking, anyway. “But I do have a personal issue I need to deal with. Any chance I can talk to the team travel planner and fly back Saturday instead of tonight?”
It was an unusual request. The team had to fly together. Always. No exceptions. Hopefully his need for me as a goalie getting ready to head into playoffs would allow an exception.
“Personal issues?”
I didn’t want to tell him. He was not a hearts and flowers kind of guy. Hell, I wasn’t always so sure he had a heart. I’d tell the team eventually, at some point it’d come out, anyway. Shit always did. But not until I knew more. Had a plan. Could talk to Lizzie without wanting to yell at her.
“Yeah.” I shrugged, the move not visible due to the bulk of all my padding. “Saturday. I can be back then.”
His eyes narrowed and his arms uncrossed and his hands settled at his hips. With a single nod, he dipped his chin. “Be back for Sunday skate or you’re benched for a week.”
Relief pulsed through me. “Thank you, Coach. I appreciate it.”
“Just go win us the game, Dubiak. That’s all I give a shit about.” He took off to talk to the defense and power play coach, leaving me staring at my skates, anticipation thrumming its way up my spine.
That’d give us all of Friday and Saturday. Tonight, if she answered when I called. It still only gave me forty-eight hours. It’d have to be enough. I wasn’t leaving Chicago without seeing her, without us figuring out what we were going to do.
She was having my child, and I wasn’t going to miss a single damn second of it.
It was late by the time I got to Lizzie’s condo. When the team left from the arena straight to the airport, our travel coordinator had already rescheduled my plans. A ride to a hotel three blocks from where Lizzie lived, and a plane ticket back on Saturday afternoon. I didn’t go to the hotel, though. I requested the driver to take me to Lizzie’s building, a high-rise off the Miracle Mile on Michigan Avenue where she had a view of the lake and Millennial Park. Part of her money came from her parents, or should I say her grandparents who had made a boatload of money decades ago, investing in commercial real estate. Despite growing up financially secure and having her trust fund, Lizzie’s success came from her own hard work ethic, drive, and confidence. Three of the sexiest characteristics I didn’t know I loved until I’d met her back in college.
I slipped out of the town car and walked into her lobby. The doorman opened the door for me, dressed in a red suit coat with gold filigree at his shoulders and black dress pants. Inside was as opulent as I remembered. She’d bought it after she returned from Oxford with her MBA, using a small amount of her trust fund from her grandparents as the down payment.
Back then, I’d been three years into playing for the Chicago Storm, just getting over the excitement of puck bunnies. The reality of making it to the pro level was wearing off and hockey was, for the first time in my life, becoming a job. The best job in the world, but the haze of the newness of traveling and partying and girls throwing themselves at me was wearing off.
Lizzie had returned with a boyfriend, someone she’d met in Oxford who was from Milwaukee. That relationship lasted only a couple of months, but it was a year after when she and I fell into bed together for the first time since college. That first time hadn’t been like this last time though, getting her pregnant aside. We both knew back then we’d be friends first. We’d always hang out. We’d have fun. We’d fall into bed together when we were both available and in the mood, but it would never go farther than that.