Delay of Game (The Baltimore Banners Book 6) (12 page)

Soft breathing reached his ears, the deep breathing of someone asleep. He stopped rubbing Val's arm and looked down, trying to see her face where it rested against his chest. Her eyes were closed, her long lashes nothing more than crescents against the pale skin of her cheeks.

Val was asleep with just a hint of a smile teasing her lush red lips.

Justin watched her for a few minutes. Long minutes, where he was content to study the slow rise and fall of her chest and the delicate features of her face, relaxed in sleep.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, smiling wider when she made a sleepy little moan of contentment and snuggled even closer. Then he grabbed the remote from the side table and turned on the television, nudging the volume down to low so he wouldn't disturb her.

No, this wasn't exactly the way he had planned for the night to go. But having Val curled against him, so trusting in sleep, wasn't something he'd trade for anything.

The knock startled Val and she jumped, almost knocking the glass of tea off the edge of her desk. She grabbed it in time to keep it from toppling then reached for her mouse and closed out the streaming audio feed she had been listening to.

"Yeah, it's open."

Alyssa pushed open the door, a frown on her face as she fixed Val with a concerned look. Maybe concerned wasn't right. It was more a mixture of disbelief and worry.

"Why are you in here?"

"Um, because it's my office and I have work to do?"

Alyssa's frown deepened. She closed the door and walked to the chair, dropping into it with a small sigh before bending over and stretching. She sighed again, this one mixed with a groan, then straightened in the chair and pulled off the toque and tossed it on the desk.

"I thought you'd be watching the game."

Val glanced over at the computer then back at Alyssa, wondering if she looked as guilty as she felt. "Yeah. But there's all this paperwork and the invoices and I wanted to get payroll ready and everything first."

"Really?"

"Yeah." It wasn't a complete lie. She really did want to get ahead of everything. Alyssa didn't need to know she had been sidetracked by listening to the game online. If Alyssa knew that, she'd want to know why she was listening to it instead of watching it outside. Val didn't want her friend asking, because she honestly had no idea how to answer.

"Okay, out with it."

"Out with what?"

Alyssa motioned in Val's direction with her hand, waving it around. "With whatever is going on. Since when would you rather be in here doing paperwork instead of out there watching the game?"

"Since the business has to take priority?"

"Val, this is me you're talking to. I know you better than that. You're not going to convince me you have to catch up on anything because knowing you, you're already three steps ahead of everything. So out with it. What's going on?"

Val wanted to contradict her, to tell Alyssa that she really was doing work. But Alyssa was her best friend, knew her probably better than she knew herself. Alyssa wouldn't buy it, no matter how convincing Val tried to be.

She finally rolled her eyes and pulled off the reading glasses, then leaned her arms on the desk with a sigh. "Okay, fine. I'm not out there watching it because I'm back here listening to it."

"Why?"

"Uh, why not?"

"Why wouldn't you be out there watching it instead?"

"Because I—" Val snapped her mouth closed, not sure how to answer. She fidgeted with the glasses in her hand, turning them over and over before tapping the edge of the frames on the desk.

Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap.

Alyssa leaned across the desk and grabbed the glasses from her hand. "You're going to break them."

"I have another pair." She did. In fact, she had three more pairs because she was constantly misplacing them—or breaking them.

"That's not the point, Val. And you're trying to change the subject." Alyssa leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms in front of her, the material of her chef's coat bunching beneath her. "Out with it."

Val shrugged. "It's nothing. Honest."

"Is something going on with you and Justin?"

That was the obvious conclusion, so Val couldn't fault Alyssa for coming up with it. But that wasn't it. Not exactly. At least, not how Alyssa obviously thought. The problem was, Val wasn't sure what was going on, only that she had this slightly unsettled feeling niggling the back of her mind since the last time she'd seen Justin. That had been last week, the night before the first game of the playoffs.

No, she didn't expect to see him during playoffs. She knew better, knew how crazy the schedule was, knew how much the players needed to focus on nothing but the game right now. And they did talk, at least for a few minutes each day. There was no logical reason for the weird niggling feeling she was getting.

Except she was worried that maybe she knew what the feeling was from, and she was afraid to admit it, to give voice to it. If she did that, then she'd really have to think about it. Val didn't feel like doing that right now.

"Earth to Val."

Something moved past Val's eyes, something fast and blurry. Val blinked and jerked back, blinked again then shot Alyssa a dirty look and pushed her hand away from her face. "Stop it. I heard you the first time."

"Just checking, since all you're doing is sitting there staring off into space."

"I'm not staring. I'm thinking."

"About Justin?"

"No. Yes. Maybe. Yeah, I guess."

Alyssa shook her head and laughed, her smile wide and bright. "Let me guess. You're in love with him?"

Val shook her head. "No, of course not. We've only been dating for a little more than a month. It's too soon for that." And it was. It didn't matter that just hearing Alyssa say the words out loud made her pulse kick up a notch and made her stomach all fluttery. Val had a more level head than that, knew it was too soon for any kind of serious emotion like that. Love? Yeah, not likely. And certainly not this soon.

"Trust me, it's not love."

Alyssa's smile faded just the smallest bit. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear and tilted her head to the side, studying Val. "If you say so. And if it's not that, then what is it?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, I don't even know how to explain it. I'm probably just reading too much into things."

"Like what?"

Val shrugged then closed her eyes, Justin's words clear in her mind.
The last few weeks would have turned out differently if not for you.
And then he thanked her. She wasn't sure why, but the words unsettled her for some reason. She didn't want his gratitude. She wanted…well, she wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew it definitely wasn't his gratitude.

"I don't know. I just—" Val swallowed and looked away, worried Alyssa might see too much in her gaze. "I don't want him seeing me because he thinks he owes me or anything, you know?"

"Owes you?" Alyssa leaned forward, frowning. "Why would you even think that?"

"I don't know. Like I said, I'm probably just reading into things."

"What things?"

"Alyssa, I don't know, okay? Can we just drop this whole thing?" Val pushed away from the desk with the intention of just leaving the office. She'd go out to the bar and watch the game, and then maybe Alyssa would stop asking questions she didn't want to answer. Except Alyssa had other ideas, because she leaned across the desk even more and grabbed her wrist.

"Like you dropped it when I first started dating Randy?"

Val rolled her eyes and tried to yank her wrist free. "Oh please. This so isn't the same thing and you know it."

"Not exactly but close enough. Spill it. What's going on? Why would you think Justin thinks he owes you?"

"Because of something he said last week when I was at his place, okay? There. Are you happy now?" Val finally pulled her wrist free and leaned back in the chair, folding her arms in front of her.

"No. What did he say?"

"Alyssa, this is ridiculous—"

"What did he say?"

"You're a pain in my ass."

"Justin said you were a pain in his ass?"

"No!
You
are a pain in
my
ass."

Alyssa laughed but didn't give up, something Val blamed on her brother's influence. "We can do this all night, you know."

Val rolled her eyes again. Alyssa was right, they could. But then they'd both miss the game and Val didn't want that to happen, even if she didn't feel like watching it in a crowded bar.

"Fine. I was at his place, and he thanked me for being with him. He said things would have probably turned out different if not for me." Said out loud, it sounded so much worse. No, not really worse. It sounded lame, like it was nothing.

Maybe Val really was reading too much into things. Especially if the confusion on Alyssa's face meant anything.

"I don't get it."

Val made a little noise, something between a groan and a sigh, and pushed away from the desk. "I told you it was nothing."

"Val, it isn't nothing if it's worrying you. So what about that has you worried?"

"Nothing. Everything." Val grabbed the sweaty glass of tea, now a little warm and watered down, and took a sip. She stared into the glass, watching the liquid swirl in circles as she twirled the glass in her hand. Then she took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "He hasn't been drinking since we started dating. I think he thinks I'm the reason, and I think he thinks he owes me for that. It's just, I don't know. Weird, you know?"

Silence greeted her admission, which only made her feel like an idiot for saying anything. Val drained the glass then finally looked over at Alyssa, only to see her friend watching her with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Stupid, right? I told you it was nothing—"

"It's not stupid, Val, not if it has you upset."

"I'm not upset."

Alyssa waved her denial away. "Worried then. You said he hasn't been drinking at all? Nothing?"

"Nope, not a drop."

"So that's a good thing then."

"Yes, of course it is. But it's not like he's an alcoholic, Alyssa. And he didn't stop because of me. He stopped because Coach LeBlanc benched him and threatened to send him back to the minors if he didn't straighten up."

"Can he do that?"

"I have no idea. Justin seemed pretty sure he could find a way to make it happen. And if he couldn't, he could have made him a permanent scratch. The point is, Justin got his act together because of the coach's threat, not because of me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure. We started dating after he was scratched that first night, remember? I didn't have anything to do with it."

Alyssa shrugged then pushed herself to her feet with a groan and a stretch. "Maybe he thinks you do. Either way, I think you're worrying too much. Justin likes you, you like him, and you're a cute couple. Just have fun with it."

Alyssa gave her what was supposed to be a reassuring smile then looked down at the front of her coat, brushed at a few stains, and started unbuttoning it. Val couldn't stop the small burst of laughter when she saw the t-shirt Alyssa was wearing under it. It was a gray athletic shirt, emblazoned with
Property of the Baltimore Banners
in bold black letters on the front.

"Don't even tell me you're laughing at my shirt. You can't be."

Val shook her head but didn't stop smiling. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head, revealing an identical t-shirt.

"Nothing like a little team spirit, right?"

"Exactly." Alyssa grabbed Val's arm and moved toward the door. "Let's go watch the game. Maybe they can finish this tonight and have a few extra days before the next round."

Val nodded, knowing it would be great if they could win with a sweep. But she didn't say anything, afraid to jinx it. And she made sure to rap on the doorframe three times before closing the office door behind her.

The mood in the locker room was confident, jubilant. Cautious. Loud conversations, jokes and jibes bounced off the concrete walls and acoustic tiles, creating a din that Justin didn't really notice.

He was in his own zone, preparing for the game that would be starting in thirty minutes. Sitting up straight, eyes closed, hands resting palm-down on his thighs. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Deep and easy. Over and over. One last deep breath then he opened his eyes, his gaze slowly moving around the locker room. That was another ritual—just sitting back, letting his mind clear as he watched everyone else.

Like Mat, sitting on the bench a few feet away, stretching his legs out one at a time, muttering something under his breath with each kick. Kenny was on his other side, wrapping his stick with care, pausing every few minutes to tap the blade on the side of his skate. Wrap twice, tap. Wrap twice, tap.

Noise in the room was slowly dying down, fading away as everyone began their own rituals of preparing. Some of the rituals were mundane, nothing more than simple prepping. Others looked simple on the surface but meant so much more. Like JP Larocque, standing away from everyone else, leaning against a wall as he spoke into his cell phone, no doubt talking to his girlfriend, Emily.

Randy Michaels sat on the bench across from Justin, tying and retying his skates. Five times for each one, no matter what. Alec Kolchak was in another room, away from everyone else, no doubt bouncing balls off the wall, warming up. Justin knew the last thing he'd do before completely suiting up was look at a picture of his wife and son, giving it a quick kiss before heading out.

Others were a little more outrageous or unusual, like Harland Day's. Harland was off in a corner, balancing himself in a steady handstand, his large feet resting high on the wall. He'd stay that way for at least five minutes, if not longer, until his face turned so red an overripe tomato looked pale in comparison.

Simple rituals. Complex rituals. It didn't matter. Whatever worked. Everyone had something, even if it was as simple as sitting still and breathing.

Justin closed his eyes again and took another two deep breaths. At the end of the second, he slowly fisted his hands then rapped his knuckles three times against his thighs. A twinge of pain shot through his left hand, quick and biting.

Justin opened his eyes and looked down, glaring at his hand like that would help. The trainer had iced and taped his finger, giving him a dubious look before letting him go and moving to the next casualty.

Bumps, bruises. Pulled muscles, cuts, and scrapes. Nothing more than business as usual. They'd be wrapped, stitched, iced or massaged, sometimes all of the above, sometimes none of the above. Whatever worked.

Justin flattened his left hand, fisted it, flattened it again. He'd taken a hit against the boards, a hard one, in their last game and ended up with a broken pinky finger. His freaking pinky finger. He hadn't expected it to hurt quite as much—but nowhere near as much as the loss. The Banners had their asses handed to them, losing to Tampa five to one. The loss had forced a seventh game. Do or die time. If they won this one, they'd move to the third round. And after that—

No. He was getting ahead of himself. No thinking about next week, or the week after that. Stick to the game plan. One game at a time. And right now, it was all about tonight—and only tonight.

He stood and shrugged into his shoulder pads, rolled his head from side to side, then pulled on his jersey. Everyone else was doing the same, getting ready, heads in the game.

The coaching staff walked in and silence descended over the room as Sonny looked around. His gaze was slow, stopping on each player for a full second before moving on. Calculating, assessing. Justin wondered what went through the coach's mind when he did that, wondered what he saw, what he was thinking when that cool gaze landed on him. Justin swallowed, flexed his left hand by his side, and waited.

Sonny tugged at his tie and rolled his own shoulders, like the suit fit just a bit too tight across his broad back. He rolled the stack of papers in his hand and tapped them across his palm then spoke, his booming voice loud in the quiet room.

"You've all heard the speeches, every single one of them. I'm not going to say them again. We're a good team. The best. Now let's get out there and show them."

Shouts erupted, energized and insane. Everyone grabbed their sticks and headed out into the hallway, fist-bumping along the way. They stopped as a group before heading out to the bench, music from the arena pumping them up as much as it pumped the crowd. More fist bumps and some crazy hops from a few of the players. Harland did his wacky-ass limbo walk, bent over half-backwards as everyone tapped him with their sticks as he went by. Brad took up his post near the entrance, grabbing each player by the neck and doing a quick head-butt as they walked by.

Round two, game seven.

It was time to play.

***

"Stop biting your nails."

Val shrugged Alyssa's hand from her wrist, not even bothering to look at her. If she looked, she might miss something. "I can't."

She moved her hand away from her mouth anyway and put it in her lap, leaning forward to watch the play on the ice. Tampa had possession of the puck, moving it down the ice, sliding around the Banners' defenses, moving even closer. Val watched, not daring to breathe, as they passed it back and forth, setting up a shot in front of the net. One, two. There, a quick one-timer. Randy dove in front of the puck, stopping it midair and deflecting the shot by catching it straight in the ribs. Alyssa winced beside her, her sharp gasp swallowed by the cheers exploding around them. Val grabbed her hand and squeezed, trying to offer silent comfort as Randy sped toward the bench, bent over and clutching his side. Nikolai Petrovich jumped over the boards, taking her brother's place on the ice and barreling after the players in white.

If her brother didn't have a broken rib or two after that, it would be a minor miracle. At the very least, he'd have one hell of a bruise.

He wouldn't be the only one.

Val's eyes raked over the players on the bench, stopping on Justin. He'd taken a high stick to the mouth near the end of the first and was sporting a busted lip, hastily stitched at some point, probably during intermission. She knew he hadn't left the game during the period, even though less than five minutes remained. And he'd skated at least two other shifts, his neck and the collar of his jersey stained with blood.

Her entire body hurt with sympathy pains. She couldn't imagine how sore Justin was—how sore all of them must be. She'd been around hockey all her life, had seen Randy's collections of bumps and bruises growing up. But she had never really been aware of them, never really appreciated what toll the game took on the players, not really.

Not until she started dating Justin.

Her eyes darted back down the ice, just in time to see JP Larocque shoot the puck into the net. The horn blared, quickly drowned out by the 18,000 people surging to their feet, screaming. Alyssa grabbed Val around the neck and hugged her, both of them jumping at the same time, each of them screaming as well.

Val looked up at the giant screen, the bright red numbers showing the score. Three to two. The Banners were now in the lead, with nine minutes left in the second period. They were just over the halfway mark of the game and already Val's voice was hoarse from screaming, her throat scratchy and sore. She leaned forward and grabbed the large bottle of water, taking a long sip as she watched the replay overhead.

Her gaze moved back to the ice, where the ice crew was just finishing clearing the surface. She looked across the rink, over to the players' bench, her gaze immediately finding Justin. No, he couldn't see her, even if they were sitting on the glass. She didn't expect him to be looking for her, didn't even expect him to be thinking about her, especially not during the game. But just seeing him was enough for now.

Which was so silly. It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other since the playoffs started. They had. Not nearly as much as when they first started dating, true. His schedule was too grueling, too demanding. Their limited time together was spent mostly at her place. Talking, maybe watching television. Cuddling. And sex. Definitely sex. And the sex was mind-blowing. Beyond wonderful.

Val swallowed and took another long sip of water, wondering if her face looked as red as it felt. And she had to, once again, remind herself that orgasms did not translate into love.

Not even close.

Justin hadn't thanked her again, which made her wonder if maybe she had just overreacted. Probably. She hoped so. In fact, it was like the last few months before they dated no longer existed. Whatever Justin had been going through was gone, nothing more than a memory—whatever it was. He smiled more easily, the tension she had seen in him before no longer there. And while he hadn't been out of shape—his partying hadn't gotten to that point, not even close—his body was definitely harder than before, leaner, stronger.

Yeah, she definitely noticed that. She noticed every inch of it.

After tonight's game, there was no doubt his body would also be more bruised and battered. If things went well tonight, the players would have a few days before their next game. A few days to recuperate. Yes, they'd still be practicing, still working hard. But at least they wouldn’t be getting battered as much.

A whistle blew and players from both teams lined up for the face off. Val leaned forward, her eyes on the number 90 sewn on the back of Justin's jersey. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and her hands folded in front of her, clasped just below her chin, almost like she was praying. The puck dropped and Mat Herron passed it behind him, straight at Justin.

Val held her breath, watching as the play moved closer to them. Justin passed the puck across to JP and skated closer to the net, tapping his stick on the ice. JP passed it to Mat, who passed it to Justin.

Back and forth, the puck flying between them as they moved closer to the net, setting up the play. Justin made one final pass to Mat, who shot it toward the net. The loud clang of rubber against steel echoed around them, mixing with the collective sigh of the crowd. The puck flew through the air, hitting the glass and dropping to the ice in the corner right in front of them.

Val jumped from her seat, screaming and banging her hands against the glass as Justin raced for the puck, his head down, the blade of his stick digging for the solid piece of rubber. Val's eyes rested on Justin for a split second, noticing the furrow on his brow as he concentrated, noticing the gash on his lower lip and bruise along his chin. She banged on the glass again, along with everyone else around them, shouting his name, urging him to go as his blade finally caught the puck and shot it behind him, back to Mat.

A blur caught her attention, a flash of white from the corner of her eye. Her gaze moved away from Justin, just a fraction of an inch, watching as a Tampa player skated straight toward Justin.

"No!"

She banged on the glass again, this time in hopeless warning, screaming Justin's name as the other player left his feet and surged through the air, barreling into Justin from behind and slamming him against the boards.

Val watched in horror as Justin crumpled to the ice, not moving. Players swarmed to the corner, flashes of blue and white, fists flying as fast as the curses. Whistles screeched, the shrill sound echoing off the ice, nothing more than a distant shriek in her ears as refs hurried to the pile, pulling players off each other.

Val pressed her face to the glass, looking down at Justin's body, so still on the ice as several of the Banners surrounded him. Cheers and shouts faded into silence as the crowd finally realized something else was going on, something besides just a fight as one of the trainers for the Banners raced out onto the ice in an odd shuffle-slide. Val's eyes never left Justin, her lungs burning as she held her breath, watching. Waiting.

Alyssa tugged her arm and said something to her, the words making no sense through the buzzing in her ears. Val brushed her hand away, shaking her head as she just stood there and watched.

"Get up. Get up. Get up." Val repeated the words over and over, the knot in her stomach heavy, growing. She released her breath in a rush when Justin finally moved, rolling to his side and clutching his left arm with a groan. He got to his knees, tried to stand, fell back down and landed on his right shoulder with a grunt of pain just as the trainer reached him.

Val heard her name, knew Alyssa was talking to her again, trying to tell her something. But she could focus only on Justin. On the way he clutched his arm, on the unnatural angle of the limb hanging by his side as the trainer pushed the sleeve of his jersey up.

Nausea swelled inside her, followed by a phantom burst of pain in her own arm. Justin's lower arm was broken, it didn't take a doctor to determine that, not with the bone poking through torn and bloodied flesh. Val swallowed, her hands curling into fists against the glass, red-hot anger simmering in her veins. She wanted to jump the boards, to chase after the player who had done this. To pound on him and hit him, over and over.

The anger was raw, unlike anything she had ever experienced, forcing the breath from her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, took a deep breath, tried to push the irrational emotion away. When she opened her eyes again, Justin was being helped to his feet, his face pale and covered with a damp sheen, his hair matted and sweaty. A look of fierce determination etched his face, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed, his jaw clenched beneath the scruffy beard. But his eyes were focused on the bench across the ice, as if it was taking every ounce of concentration he possessed to make it over there as the crowd cheered and clapped.