Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (12 page)

“I’m very happy right now,” she said against his mouth.

“Thank God, because so am I, and I want to keep this up for the foreseeable future.”

She laughed. “We will have to leave bed eventually. Your suspension ended today, didn’t it?”

“It did. Damn it. I would have preferred this for the last two weeks to all the running I’ve been doing.”

She focused on his shoulder, afraid to meet his gaze when she said, “I’m sorry about that. It was necessary, though.”

“I don’t care now. I’m just glad to be here with you. The rest of that stuff doesn’t matter.”

She sighed, relieved he wouldn’t push for more information. Nathalie had asked if she intended to tell Brody about the pyrokenesis. Ann still didn’t have an answer to that question. She wanted to be open and honest with him, completely. But if he found out…

The thought of him looking at her the way her family would if they’d ever found out, of him calling her Devil’s spawn and walking out of her life, after all she’d done to get to this point, was a future she just couldn’t face.

Maybe they could be happy with just this one little secret between them? It wasn’t absolutely necessary she tell him.

Even as they snuggled and talked about unimportant things, a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She was certain now she was falling in love with Brody. Keeping a secret from the man she loved went against her every instinct, but admitting her curse to him seemed impossible.

When he kissed her, and the kiss turned into another delicious exploration, she decided to just savor being with him, able to make love to him without danger or worry. They had time. She had time now. She’d think about this later.

*****

His next training session went great. He was welcomed back by his teammates like a conquering hero, which was a little weird, but fun. And when he hit the ice for his first game, the crowd erupted in cheers. He took it all in good humor, just glad he’d been able to do something good for his team.

And like icing on the cake, the Empires won the game.

Between being back to playing the game he loved and spending every moment outside of hockey with Ann, Brody was pretty sure he’d discovered heaven.

The only irritating little blight to his happiness was the unexplained time Ann had disappeared.

He’d told her it didn’t matter. He didn’t want it to. But his brain kept circling back to those two weeks when he hadn’t been able to see her, the week after they’d first met when he wasn’t allowed to call. And he couldn’t get past the fact that whatever was behind those things was important. Important enough to ruin his relationship with her.

He tried to ignore the suspicion and worry when he was with her, and he mostly succeeded. When he was training or in the middle of a game he could forget his concerns, too. But in those rare between times, commuting home, the taxi to her apartment, a solitary run, the nights he’d spent in a hotel room during the Empires’ last away games, the suspicions raised their ugly heads and poked at him relentlessly.

In the days leading up to the Winter Classic, he knew he should be more focused on the game than anything else. And he tried. He really did.

Unfortunately, he was too curious and relentless. And he failed miserably at ignoring the nagging mystery.

He managed to get through and even enjoy Christmas, wiggling out of introducing his twin to Ann only because Connor went back to California and Brody used the approaching Classic as an excuse to stay in New York. Despite his brother’s curiosity, he really really didn’t want to introduce him to Ann until he was more sure of their relationship. Ann found all this very funny, which made his jealousy an acceptable sacrifice.

But two days before New Year’s Eve, his curiosity and concern finally got the best of him.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said to her as they sat on her couch pretending to watch a zombie movie.

“Like?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, there’s one thing…”

He tried hard not to show his anxiety and only display mild curiosity.

“My first name isn’t really Ann.”

“What?” He turned a little to face her.

“That’s my middle name.”

“OK. What’s your first name and why don’t you use it?”

Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “Chastity.”

“Chastity?” He blinked, leaned back from her a little to look at her closer. “Your full name is Chasity Ann Bell?”

She made a face and nodded.

Well, it wasn’t the secret he was digging for—while trying not to appear to be digging—but it was an adorable secret nonetheless. “Chastity.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If you ever call me that, I will hurt you. I hate my first name.”

“What’s wrong with Chastity?” He pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh.

“Chastity Bell?”

“Very melodious.”

“It’s awful. Do you know how often I got called Chastity Belt in school? Besides, what scientist is called Chastity Bell?”

“Well, I think it’s cute.”

She scowled. “I’m serious about hurting you if you call me that.”

“Fair enough.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I got my name from a movie.”

“Really?”

“Connor and I both were named after movie characters. My mom’s favorite movie was
Highlander
and my dad’s was
Jaws
.”

“Brody from
Jaws
, right? The character Martin Brody. Why didn’t he name you Martin?”

“My dad liked Brody better.” He shrugged. “Could have been worse. They could have named me Hooper or Quint.”

“Quint Evans? Not as bad as Chastity Bell, but OK, I see your point.” She snuggled back under his arm again and faced the TV. “I’ve never seen
Highlander
. What’s that about?”

“Oh you have missed out.” He went on to tell her about the beloved family movie.

In the back of his head, he continued to brood. His ploy had failed miserably. But what had he expected? If she hadn’t explained already, she wasn’t going to just drop the news at such a casual question.

He’d let the unspoken go too long and now he didn’t know how to bring it up without upsetting her. He tried to convince himself he didn’t need to know, that he didn’t want to know. But he was a terrible liar—especially with himself.

The movie credits rolled, and he took the excuse to kiss her, loving the way her entire body softened against him. He buried his fingers in her hair, enjoying the silky texture, trying to lose himself in her feel and taste and ignore his own irritating curiosity.

She pulled back a little, breaking the kiss, and narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s wrong?”

Damn. “What?”

“You seem distracted. Is it the Classic?”

He really wanted to lie and say yes and get back to the kissing. He didn’t want to be distracted when he was with her.

He opened his mouth to say yes, but instead said, “Those two weeks when you were sick…” He winced even as the words tumbled out. “Sorry. I’m having trouble letting it go without knowing what was wrong.”

“You think I’m going to make you sick?” she said through a forced smile, without looking him in the eyes.

“No. I know I said it didn’t matter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“But it’s obviously bothering you.”

“It is. I’m worried.”

“About?”

“That what kept you away will come back to haunt us.” Well, he was all in now. He might as well lay it all out. “I’m worried whatever went on during those two weeks is tied to that week after our first date, when I couldn’t call you. I’m worried there’s something serious you aren’t telling me.”

“It’s nothing.” She rose and went into the kitchen, making a show of putting dishes from their takeout dinner into the sink and tidying.

He really wanted to let it go because she was upset and he hated upsetting her. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t let it go.

“Ann, I really like you. A lot.”

She smiled at him over the counter. “I like you too, Brody. A lot.”

“I want this thing between us to…go somewhere. To be important.”

“But?”

He swallowed. “But I’m afraid whatever you’re keeping from me will prevent that.”

“What do you think I’m hiding, exactly?”

Her tone had bite but also a slight tremble, like she was covering anxiety with anger.

“I don’t know. I can imagine all kinds of things…”

“Not this,” she murmured, so low she probably didn’t mean for him to hear.

“What the hell is ‘this,’ Ann? Please. I’m worried about you.”

“Me? You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I do.” It was on the tip of his tongue to just say the words, to tell her he’d fallen in love with her. But with this hanging between them, he couldn’t get the words out. “Are you in trouble? An ex? The IRS?”

“No. How many times do I have to tell you there is no ex, no husband, no boyfriend, or anything?”

“Your parents?”

“No. We rarely even speak these days.”

“Family? A health issue?”

She winced, a barely perceptible tic, when he mentioned health issues.

“Is that it? Something is wrong with you?”

This time she flinched, almost like he’d slapped her, and looked away.

“Ann? What’s wrong?”

“Stop pushing, Brody. It’s none of your business.”

“Like hell it’s not. Are you dying?”

“No.”

“Contagious? Is it cancer? Something worse?”

“No. No. No. Please. Stop. I’m not… I can’t talk about it.”

He ran his hands over his face and up through his hair. He shouldn’t have started this conversation. “Are you going to disappear on me again?”

She stared at him, but didn’t respond.

“I see.” He stood. “I’d better get going. We have training tomorrow.”

She closed her eyes, ducking her head, but not fast enough for him to miss her hurt. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted her to tell him this wasn’t true.

But knowing she might disappear at any moment, that she wasn’t even going to deny the possibility, was worse than any punch he’d ever taken.

He snatched his coat from the back of a chair at the kitchen counter, waiting for her to look up, to look at him, to tell him to stay. She didn’t, and his heart broke a little more.

“Goodnight,” he murmured.

He was at the door when she called his name. He paused with his back to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Nothing else. Just sorry. He wasn’t even sure what she was apologizing for. He nodded and left without looking back. If he looked at her, he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover.

Tears leaked down her cheeks as she curled into a ball on her lonely bed, missing Brody more than should have been possible. She should just tell him. Just get it over with. At least he’d know why he was leaving her.

She squeezed her eyes closed. Tonight had been bad enough. She’d never get over seeing him look at her like she was a freak.

Everything she’d gone through, all the work so she could really be with him, and she’d still driven him away.

Now what was she going to do?

“What’s wrong with you?” Semonov asked as they came off the ice.

“Nothing.” Brody focused on pulling off his mitts.

“You have a fight with Ann?”

“None of your business.”

“You want Nathalie to talk to her?”

“Stay the fuck out of my business,” Brody said evenly, without looking at his goalie.

“Whatever the fuck is wrong, get over it then. You’re no use to us tomorrow like this.”

“Fuck you.” Again said evenly as he walked away. He didn’t need his teammate pointing out he’d been a disaster during practice, so distracted his energy was low and his reactions pathetic.

He already knew it.

Stomping through the locker room, he disposed of gear, showered, and dressed, ignoring the other guys. He wasn’t in the mood for light conversation or trash talk. When Reiner Jahr accidentally bumped into him, despite the friendly apology, Brody got in his face. He wanted to beat on someone badly and the big Norwegian was the only guy on the team Brody figured could stand up in a fight with him. They faced off for several long, tense seconds as the locker room fell quiet around them.

Then Brody blinked and backed off. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Sorry,” he said to Jahr. He ignored the looks he got as he left.

He’d taken the train to practice instead of his car, because he didn’t trust himself behind the wheel at the moment. The ride back into Manhattan from Tarrytown didn’t help with his anger, but it gave him time to feel even more like an asshole after the way he’d acted with Jahr. He never fought off the ice, except when he took time to train at a boxing gym so he’d be a better fighter on the ice. He didn’t get into bust ups with his teammates. Ever. He usually broke up the fights.

Ann had knocked him so far off balance, he barely recognized himself. And he had only himself to blame. He’d pushed her for answers she wasn’t ready to give. Worse, he’d gotten answers he wasn’t prepared to hear.

He needed to call her, find a way to fix things. Problem was, he couldn’t punch his way out of this. He had no idea what would fix things between them.

He switched to the subway at Grand Central. A few brave souls tried to talk to him, cheering the team on tomorrow, still congratulating him on that last fight before his suspension. He couldn’t enjoy the conversations like he usually did, though he made an effort to be friendly. Something must have shown in his expression, because none of the fans took up much of his time, mostly leaving him to his brooding.

He got off the subway two stops early so he could walk a little. The city was already crowded with people preparing to celebrate New Year’s Eve, even this far away from Times Square. He kept his head down and ignored the bump and push of people, letting the sharp, cold air cool his anger as much as was possible. The wind coming in off the river wrapped around him like an icy hug. The familiar scents of his neighborhood, the pizza restaurant, the hot air and chemical soap from the local dry cleaners, the falafel food cart on the corner soothed him a little more. He almost hated to go inside.