Broken (Breakers Hockey Book 1) Page 6

  She scowled, wiped a hand across her forehead, and started walking again. “You know only insane people hike in the middle of summer. This humidity is my seventh circle of hell.”

  “It’s technically almost fall,” he pointed out with a sly grin.

  “Tell that to the weather,” she grumbled, moving to catch up with him. “I’m sweating like a pig.”

  He smiled, and just like always, her heart blipped. “Worried about your hair?” he teased.

  No. That worry had worn off about five minutes into the first hike she’d taken with Luc, nearly two and a half years before. Now, she didn’t bother with makeup or anything other than a hat and ponytail.

  “Worried about yours?” she countered. “I think you have a gallon of product in it.” She sniffed and moved alongside him. “It’s probably melting all down your spine.”

  He tilted his head back and laughed, loud and true, and the sound of it slid right into her soul.

  God, he was such a nice guy.

  He’d seen her at her worst. Multiple times.

  And yet, he’d stayed.

  Even when she’d done her level best to push him away.

  That was something she had been thinking about lately. More than she probably should be, considering that she was clinging desperately to the whole friendship thing.

  Because the fact still remained. She was terrified of what might happen if she lost him.

  Was afraid that it would shatter something inside her.

  Yes, she was fully aware that made her a coward.

  No, she wasn’t ready to stop ostriching any time soon.

  Inhaling deeply, she tugged down her hat and kept hiking. They were almost to the top of the hill, and she’d already spotted the place where she’d rest her weary feet. A large boulder that overlooked the forest, green for the foreseeable future.

  “Come on, slowpoke,” she said, prodding him in the side. “I want my PB&J.”

  He laughed. “Who says I packed them?”

  She tossed her head, smiled at him. “Because I packed the gummy worms, and if you don’t have my sammy, then I’m not sharing.”

  “Meanie,” he said, then stuck out his tongue.

  “You’re the—”

  She stumbled on a tree root, catching herself in the next instant, but Luc’s hands were already there, wrapped around her waist, ready to steady her, even though she didn’t need it.

  Normally, he released her almost immediately.

  This time, he lingered, sweat and male filling her nose. His skin gleamed golden in the sunlight. His breathing was slightly elevated from the climb.

  But then again, so was hers.

  And she was starting to question whether it was truly the climb, or if it was just this man.

  Despite the brightness, his pupils were huge, his emerald irises darkened to almost black, making his eyes look otherworldly.

  His thumbs moved just slightly, and she shivered, body drifting forward.

  “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, stroking her fingers over his jaw.

  He blinked, lips parting, hands tightening, but didn’t say anything, didn’t back away.

  “That’s really not fair, you know that, right?” she murmured as she ran her fingertips through the bristles on his cheeks, loving the sensation on her skin. “You shouldn’t be so pretty.”

  His hand covered hers, pressed her palm flat. “You realize that you’re the pretty one, right?” His breath puffed on her lips. “My nose is a wreck, and I’m covered in scars.”

  She shouldn’t be this close. Shouldn’t be in his arms, touching him.

  But a wildness had overtaken her, and she couldn’t move, could only drift closer, could only continue to touch him.

  “The scars make you look rugged.”

  One side of his mouth curved up, highlighting the thin white line at its corner. A line she was tempted to kiss.

  A tiny scar she’d actually risen up on tiptoe to kiss when a noise had her jumping out of his arms.

  A family came around the corner, two young boys skipping down the trail, their parents following them, holding hands as they descended. Maybe it was seeing the parents with their fingers interlaced, or perhaps it was the kids, reminding her of what she didn’t have. Either way, the sharp slice of pain that slid through her had her keeping her distance from Luc as they continued their hike.

  Friends, she reminded herself.

  Only friends.

  Even if she was starting to realize that she wanted so much more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Luc

  Despite all the promise on their roster, the team wasn’t off to the greatest start.

  They’d lost their home opener on a few bad bounces, and it looked like they were going to lose this matchup, too.

  “Damn,” he muttered, knowing the fans wanted a win at home.

  It always meant something more when they were in The Crest.

  The timer counted down, the buzzer sounding on the three-one loss, and Luc pushed out of his seat, leaving the team box and heading to his office, hopeful that the team would sort out their failures.

  It was a new system for most of the team. It would take time to sort out the mistakes and hiccups.

  At least their goaltending was solid.

  Martin Robinson was the only reason the score hadn’t been seven to one.

  Sighing, he headed to his office, cleared out his inbox while watching the guys and Tommy be interviewed by the media, their pressing questions annoying and presumptive.

  “Will this be the year the Breakers make their comeback?”

  “Do you honestly think the team will have a chance at the playoffs after the way last season went?”

  “What could have improved tonight, and will those changes have an impact on the remainder of the season?”

  No one knew the future.

  The only thing they could do was put their best foot forward and hope things would come together. The pieces were already in place, and now they had to see how they played out.

  Oh sure, they could make shifts as the season went on, but they would all be reactive to circumstances (in response to matchups, injuries, trades, chasing points as they headed into the post-season) rather than proactive (locking in the strongest roster possible before the year began).

  None of the changes from here on out would give them the same strategic effect.

  He sighed, rubbed his forehead, and knew it was time for him to get the hell out of the office. To go home. Overthinking this for the hundredth time wouldn’t make the least bit of difference.

  Sleep then refocus in the morning.

  He picked up his suit jacket, moved to the door, and was just about to leave when there was a knock on the metal panel. Frowning, wondering who would be trying to see him at this late hour, his usual quiet, uninterrupted time as the arena cleared out, he opened it slowly.

  Lexi was leaning against the doorjamb, looking sexy as hell in tight jeans and a royal blue Breakers jersey, a blue ribbon tied around the end of her braid.

  “Hey,” he said, surprised.

  “Were you leaving?” she asked.

  He nodded, and she stepped back, letting him flick off the lights and shut the door behind him. “What were you doing here?”

  “I figured I’d better check out this whole hockey thing,” she said lightly.

  His brows pulled down. “You watched the game?”

  “From the nosebleeds,” she said with a nod. “Still don’t understand most of the rules, but it was fun to be with the fans. Quite an atmosphere.” A smile. “Though they got a little rowdy toward the end.”

  “A multitude of ‘you sucks’ being shared around?”

  That smile widened. “A chorus of them, all in perfect harmony from the littlest chitlin to the oldest, grayest man.”

  Luc snorted. “They must have really loved how the team played.”

  “There might have been a few ‘you sucks’ about our boys.” She winced
when she saw his expression. “But only a few.”

  “We’ll rebound,” he said. “It’ll come together.”

  “I know.”

  “I could have gotten you tickets, you know.” Could have had her in the box next to him, an idea, he had to admit that he liked far too much.

  “I know,” she said again. “But I had it.”

  He brushed his knuckles down her cheek when she paused, glanced up at him. “I know you do.”

  “Luc?” Her hand rested on his shoulder.

  “Yeah?”

  “I—”

  A door slammed in the distance, and whatever she’d wanted to say disappeared as she turned forward and continued walking. They were quiet as they turned the corner that would lead them to the exit, but just before they made it there, she snagged his hand. “Wait.”

  He stopped, frowned. “Everything okay?”

  “Of course.” She tugged him toward a stairwell. “There’s just something I wanted to show you. Is that okay?”

  Luc nodded, letting her tow him along, lead him up several flights of stairs. His knee ached with the exertion, not happy at the pressure it put on the joint to ascend them all, but he didn’t say a word, even when she drew him through a hall and then beyond another door, the cool air of the arena surrounding him . . . and the narrow metal staircase.

  “Come on,” she murmured, when he paused at the base of them, releasing his wrist to grip the handles as she climbed, not stopping until they were on the metal gangway, high over the ice below.

  She sank down in the middle of the platform, and he mirrored her, though with a bit more discomfort.

  “Your knee,” she murmured. “Shoot, I’m sorry.” She rested her hand there, rubbed the joint.

  “It’s okay,” he said, even though he liked her touching him, enjoyed the little bit of fussing. “Have you come up here a lot?”

  A nod. “Well, not a lot, but a handful of times. I find that sometimes it’s the only quiet place to be found here.”

  Luc snorted. “That’s for damned sure.”

  She shifted a little closer, her gaze on the arena, her fingers still working on his leg, and his cock was becoming a problem. Not that he’d ask her to stop. He’d just have to do some strategic shifting so she didn’t spot the tent in his slacks.

  “I like to look around and see how big this is, even when my job, my part of it all, seems so small.” Her free hand swept toward the rafters.

  Luc glanced at the banners, at the flags that showed the retired numbers, at the others that showed their accolades—some of the hangings emblazoned with “Division Champions,” a few with “Conference Champions,” and one with “Stanley Cup Champions.”

  The team’s accomplishments, displayed there for the world to see.

  “You did that,” she whispered. “You were part of that.”

  “You were, too,” he said.

  “A small part.” She smiled. “You, good sir, are a large part.”

  And a large part of the losses since, he thought, stifling a sigh.

  Her shoulder bumped his. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “I didn’t bring you here for a pity party.” A sly look in his direction. “The hats are still are at my apartment waiting for that true celebration.”

  He chuckled.

  “I brought you here so you could see,” she murmured. “See that you’re having an impact and bringing some joy to those who love the game, making it a good place for the guys to play.” She yawned, and he almost coaxed her back down those stairs, bundled her into his car because she was tired and needed a good night’s sleep. But then she melted slightly, resting her head on his arm, and he couldn’t move, not when she was like this. “Sorry,” she said. “What I’m trying to tell you is to not take responsibility for every part of this. The team is a unit that has to be working together in order to be truly effective.”

  He opened his mouth.

  She pinched his arm. “And don’t say that it has to be led by someone effective to be effective.” She sat up, cupped his jaw with one soft palm. “You are effective. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and you live for this team.”

  “Are you trying to stroke my ego?”

  Not a good choice of words, especially when her other hand rested just above his knee.

  “That depends.”

  He stared at her, brows raised.

  “Is it working?”

  Luc chuckled. God, he loved this woman. “Yes,” he said. “Thank you.” Then he turned his head, found himself kissing her palm.

  Lexi inhaled sharply, the air between them tightening, desire its bowstring pulled taut.

  She leaned in.

  He leaned in . . . and this was the moment. This was when he would finally taste her, high above the world, her scent surrounding them.

  It was perfect.

  Her tongue darted out, moistening her bottom lip, her breath smelled sweet, as though she’d drunk one of The Crest’s famous root beer floats. Her fingers tightened, drawing him even closer . . .

  A trace of uncertainty crossed her gaze.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  He pulled back.

  She released a breath, and whether it was in relief or disappointment, he didn’t know.

  And that was precisely why he hadn’t kissed her.

  “Luc,” she whispered.

  He stared deeply into her eyes, trying to discern one over the other, whether it was disappointment or relief. “Yeah?”

  “I—” She paused, didn’t look away from him for what felt like an eternity, the golden-brown depths flickering with emotions he couldn’t read. Then her gaze flitted away, and she murmured, “I’m tired.”

  Not tonight.

  Not yet.

  He stood, angled his hips away so she didn’t see his cock pressing against his slacks, then extended a hand and helped her up. “So, let’s get you to bed.”

  The flicker of heat in her eyes didn’t help his tent situation, eroded his decision to pull back, made him curse his word choice.

  But he didn’t want any hesitation on her part when they took that final step.

  So . . . patience.

  Soon, he would have her for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lexi

  She wasn’t going to cry.

  She’d done enough of that.

  More than enough of that. God, it felt like she’d done nothing but cry for the first month after she’d found out about Caleb, until she’d seriously begun to wonder if she’d filled the ocean with her tears, singlehandedly contributing to the sea levels rising.

  But then, thankfully, eventually, the tears had halted.

  And she’d trucked right down the six stages of grief.

  Denial. Oh, God, she’d had fun with denial, thinking that she could just ignore the affairs, the baby mama, and just continue on being married to Caleb because they’d had good times, and they’d been together seven years, and it would be, it could be them again.

  Thank fuck that phase had lasted less than an hour.

  Until she’d seen the sonogram picture on Instagram, Caleb happily holding it up, the young (young!) redhead he’d knocked up beaming widely.

  Yup. That snap had propelled her right out of denial.

  And firmly into panic.

  What the fuck was she going to do with her life? Were they going to have to sell the house? Oh God, not her house, not the one that had the back yard she’d planted with love and care. Not the space she’d spent hours digging out copious amounts of rose bushes, their roots going so fucking deep.

  Plants aside, back yard aside, and twinkly lights she’d hung and rehung and rehung again until they were draped just perfectly, when Lexi realized she’d been more worried about losing her plants and lights, she’d snapped out of the panic.

  She wouldn’t be able to live in that place and not see Caleb’s betrayal.

  Then it was onto bargaining
.

  Maybe she could convince Caleb to stay married, just for a little longer, to give her enough time to figure out a way to keep that yard she’d poured her blood, sweat, and tears into. She could tear out the plants, transplant the trees.

  Their tree.

  Thankfully, that stage had also been short. Mostly because their tree was a lie.

  But probably also helped by Luc reminding her that selling the house and buying a new place meant she would have another yard to redo, one she was able to design all on her own.

  No Caleb having an opinion about a stunning water feature, just because he didn’t think it was worth two hundred dollars. No Caleb making fun of a gorgeous flower, just because it happened to resemble a vagina. No Caleb grumbling about helping her haul bags of soil into the back yard.

  So now, six months after her life had been reduced to shambles, Lexi had moved on to anger.

  Because . . . Caleb was now a father.

  A. Father.

  To a healthy baby boy with bright red hair and Caleb’s hazel eyes and . . .

  She was alone. In an apartment. With a balcony full of potted plants but no back yard.

  No twinkly lights.

  So yeah, anger was here to stay. Rage had supplanted any bargaining and panic and denial.

  Hopefully, considering she’d spent the first month filling the Atlantic with her tears, she’d leapfrog right over the fifth stage of depression and land in acceptance.

  Because, God, she thought, looking at the envelope on her desk, the stack of papers she’d just pulled from inside. Divorce papers. She was getting ready to sign her divorce papers. Everything would be final the moment she scrawled her signature on the line on the bottom, just beneath Caleb’s name.

  He’d already signed.

  So . . . this was it.

  Seven years of her life wasted. Seven and a half years, if she were being exact.

  And now what?

  She was thirty-six. Single. Childless. Which, look, was fine. If someone didn’t want to have kids, then good on them. But she’d always dreamed of being a mom, of having a partner who loved her, who went to school plays and sat for yearly portraits. After meeting Caleb, after falling for him and marrying the fucker, she’d thought that future was within grasp. She hadn’t ever imagined having to start over.