On the Fly (Crimson Romance) (25 page)

She lifted her gaze, and he could tell it took effort. She stared at him anyway, and the transformation on her face hollowed him out. Emotion drained from her expression, replaced with apathy or utter defeat. Both hurt.

“They put on a good show. They said a new rule forbidding owner-player intimate relationships wouldn’t be about us. It would protect against future potential situations like ours, but the threat was clear. An official reprimand from the commissioner and a fine.”

“Is that really so bad?”

“It could be. We’re not even officially together, and look how much controversy we’ve caused. We lost some fan respect, and during the worst of it, ticket sales went down. Now imagine if the head of the NHL went on TV and told the world how disappointed and how against the relationship he was. Any respect the team managed to get would be gone. Attendance would drop, and you know what would come after that. The board doesn’t want me in their club. They can’t fire me, but this would be just as effective.”

She looked so broken, so different from the firecracker he’d fallen for. He reached for her, but she
flinched.
Pain knifed through him, but he struggled to hide it. He could still control this.

“Okay. So we have to be careful. We’re used to that. We can — ”

“What? What, Carter? I can’t keep taking the chance of sneaking around. We’ve had too many slip-ups already. I wish there was a way to work this out, but there isn’t.”

Her voice broke, and she closed her eyes. “I can’t lose this team. My dad trusted me with it. More than that, it’s becoming as much a part of me as it was of him. I have to honor that. As long as I’m owner, and you’re playing for me, there’s nothing we can do.”

Some part of him understood what she was saying, but he wasn’t programmed to back down. Couldn’t accept it. His thoughts flew. “All right. I only signed a one-year contract extension with the Sinners. Next season I could go to another team … ”

“No. You don’t think it’d be a problem, the owner of one team dating a player from another team? I can see the headlines now: Phlynn throws game under pressure from girlfriend.”

“That’s crazy.”

“
That’s
the world we live in, Carter. Those are the jumps they make.”

He opened his mouth to disagree, but she wasn’t done.

“And … I’m not saying this to stroke your ego, but you’re the star of my team. You’re the reason we’ve gotten this far — your skill and your influence — and for the Sinners to have any hope of future success … ”

Reflex pride shot through him but cooled at the implication. He was used to most people determining his worth by athletic ability. Not Jacey. “Are you kidding me? You’d give up what we have to make another playoff run?”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Do you hear yourself? You’ve worked your whole life for playoff runs.”

He had. No disputing it. The thought slowed his steam. Winning the Cup still mattered. It just seemed empty without her. “Look. I’m as surprised as you are, but that’s not the most important thing to me anymore.”

Pain flickered in her eyes along with something else … longing? She took a step back. Too late, Carter remembered Madden’s advice about locking the exits before hitting Jacey with big news. She took another step and another until she grabbed the doorknob. Her throat worked as she swallowed.

He closed the distance and covered her hand with his. “Don’t do this. Don’t run because you’re scared. I know it’s complicated. There’s a lot at stake. Staying together is a risk, but it’s worth taking.”

Her lips trembled. She lifted her chin and held his gaze. “Not to me.”

The words pierced him. They hurt more than any injury in his twenty years of playing. For a few seconds, he stood there, inanimate. By now, he really should have seen it coming. It was their pattern. He opened up. She shut down. How could he have thought things had changed?

Anger coursed through him, raw and hot. Probably it was just buried pain, but that pain could stay buried. He didn’t want it. Carter pulled his hand off hers and moved out of the way. “If you want to go, fine, but admit something first. This isn’t just about the team. You’re afraid to let me in. You think I’ll hurt you like he did. Alex.”

Shock registered in her eyes. She shook her head. “I don’t … ” The fact she couldn’t finish the sentence said enough. The turmoil played out on her face. Could she really not have been conscious of her motives? Even at her most vulnerable, that careful measure of distance had always been clear. At least to him.

“I’ll never be able to prove to you that I’m not like that. No matter what I do, part of you will never trust me.”

Jacey looked stricken but didn’t deny it. She flexed and curled her fingers, almost reached for him but hung back. Carter could tell she wanted to debate what he’d said, but she must have seen the truth in it. Her arms dropped to her sides, and her shoulders slumped.

He felt like an ass. Madden had told him how badly Alex had scarred her. Carter saw it himself every time they were together. As close as they’d gotten, there was a part of herself she always held back.

He softened his tone to just above a whisper. “Jacey, you gotta help me here. I’m a take-action guy. I see something wrong, I fix it. I can’t erase what happened to you. I’ve been trying to show you you don’t have to be afraid of me, but I don’t know how. Just tell me what to do. Please.”

She shook her head, couldn’t seem to stop. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I never meant for it to be like this.” She let herself out and closed the door hard.

He almost followed her but stopped. It wouldn’t do any good.

Helpless wasn’t something he did well. In the rink and in the locker room, he could control what happened, the same as in every other aspect of his life. Not this. The one thing that mattered most had just walked away. And there was nothing he could do about it. Carter slammed his fist into the closest wall and dented the plaster.

Tuesday, May 22nd

Exhausted, Carter followed his whistling, barking, yelling teammates into the locker room after the win that secured them a place in the Stanley Cup Finals. The rounds had gone by so fast. They swept team after team. The Kings had put up the biggest fight, but after tonight, Los Angeles would have to nurse its dream of glory for another year.

At first, he’d poured his chaotic emotion directly onto the ice. The early playoff games had been full of fights and penalty minutes. But as the Sinners kept winning, he let himself get swept up in the excitement. He blocked out thoughts of Jacey as much as he could, though it wasn’t easy. She still wished them luck before each game, and damn if his blood pressure didn’t spike every time he smelled her perfume.

Green, black, and silver metallic confetti sifted down from his uniform as he went to his locker and undressed. This stuff would be coming off in the shower for weeks. Hard to be mad about it though. As soon as he pulled his helmet off, someone jammed a Western Conference Champions hat on his head. Sports press filtered into the room, and he resisted the urge to duck out. The last thing he wanted to do was smile and babble for the cameras about how they just played their game and put in sixty minutes. Luckily, Reese was the star of tonight’s show.

Carter found himself oddly alone in the crowded room. All around him, his team joked, laughed, caroused. Champagne showers erupted with celebratory hoots. And he felt … nothing. It didn’t make sense. He’d only made it this far in the playoffs three times counting this one. After each Conference win, the elation had been immeasurable. He hadn’t been so excited, so purely happy since he was a kid at Christmas. He should feel that way now.

He didn’t.

Someone bumped shoulders with him. Dylan Cole.

“Hey man. We’re goin’ to Surrender tonight. Ride with me?”

The thought of being in another big crowd didn’t appeal, but maybe a night of heavy celebration was what he needed. Enough alcohol, and he could forget everything he didn’t want to remember. Maybe remember some things he’d forgotten. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Awwriiight.” Dylan bopped Carter’s arm with his gloved hand and headed for his own locker.

Carter smiled and shook his head. Kids. God, was he old or what? Only in hockey years.

• • •

In hindsight, Club Surrender hadn’t been the best idea. Flashbacks of his Halloween date with Jacey lurked around every corner and made Carter consider taking a cab home. No luck on that front. His teammates kept shoving drinks in his hand, and it was easier to imbibe than convince them he didn’t want to. Though, he felt no guilt in waving off the scantily clad waitresses and their Siren smiles. Now that every woman he met stood in constant comparison to Jacey, no one measured up.

Reese sidled up on the stool next to him with an expression of disgust. “Dude. What is
with
you? We just won the Western Conference Final. We’re going to the
Cup
.”

The corner of Carter’s mouth twitched. “I was there.”

“Were you? I know a pint-sized despot who’d disagree. And you’re definitely not
here
. What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Everything.

“Look, I know I have contagious charisma, but I can’t keep the boys buoyant all by myself.” Reese leaned in and lowered his voice. “You’re the captain. You should be leading the party charge, not sitting here by yourself like a black hole of misery. You psyche them out before the finals, make them think your heart isn’t in it, that’s serious shit.”

Carter wanted to laugh. It sounded crazy, but it was true. A captain’s attitude affected the team as much as their skill or coaching. Whatever he felt — or didn’t feel — he owed it to the guys to step up and deserve his role.

“You’re right. Let me see that.” He took Reese’s drink, downed it in one swallow, and set the glass on the bar. His vision blurred as well as his thoughts. The whisky burned in his chest. It was just the tipping point he needed to go from heavily buzzed to happily drunk.

“All right! Get my man another round!”

His best friend’s words echoed in his ears, and his stool seemed to tilt, but that couldn’t be. The world shifted again when a warm, half-naked waitress hopped in his lap. “Whoa … whoa.” Carter held his hands up and tried to angle her off, but she threw her arms around his neck and laid one on him.

Catcalls and whistles rang throughout the room. Thinking didn’t come easy, as inebriated as he was. He shouldn’t be kissing her. She wasn’t the one he wanted. But the one he did want didn’t want him. Screw it. He kissed her back. Lights flashed. The strobe from the dance floor? Carter opened an eye, and nausea rolled in his stomach. Reporters.

• • •

Wednesday, May 23rd

Actual excitement was rare these days, but Jacey woke with a little leap in her heart.
Western Conference Champions
. Pride beamed from the inside out as if she’d been on the ice herself. Her first season as owner, and she’d done it. No one had expected her to succeed — sometimes even she hadn’t.

She went through her morning routine in fast-forward and skipped down the steps. The morning chill didn’t touch her as she went to get the paper. Except … it wasn’t there.
Odd
. Frowning a little, she hurried inside and peeked in the kitchen. Madden sat on a stool around the island, huddled above the front page. He folded it closed and turned it over before hitting her with a big smile. Too big. “Morning, Jace.”

“Come on. You can’t tell me that headline says anything other than:
Sinners take Western Conference
.”

The corners of his mouth wavered a little, and her stomach fell.

“It, uh … ” He puffed out his cheeks and shoved a hand through his hair.

She could always tell when her brother was coming up with a good lie. This expression was close, but it also seemed as if he were considering the merits of telling her the truth. It had to be
bad
.

“All right. You’re gonna find out anyway. The guys went out last night to celebrate. They partied a little too hard.”

That sick feeling intensified. Madden wouldn’t make such a big deal if the team just had too much to drink. “How little?”

His face crumpled in a wince. He hesitated a second more then showed her the front page. There was Carter front and center, the giant, silver anaconda of Surrender’s bar behind him and a perky, blonde waitress in his lap. Devouring his face.

The room spun a bit, and she held onto the counter before falling onto a stool. She held her face in her hands and let the misery roll through her. Madden’s hand rubbed her back, and the sympathy unlatched her last tether to composure. Sniffles turned to sobs, and soon hiccups shook her shoulders.

“Jace. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he did that. He’s an asshole.”

“Nooo.” It came out a wail, and she sniffled. “It’s my fault. He wanted to be with me, and I pushed him away. I had to. I don’t have a right to be up-upset.”

“Jace — ”

“He said I was afraid.”

Madden had panic in his eyes just beneath the surface of calm he must have been fighting to maintain. Points for that. She knew “hysterical woman” didn’t fall into the realm of his expertise.

“Afraid of what?”

“Love. Trust. Him. Carter said I thought he was like Alex. That he could never prove to me he wasn’t b-because I wouldn’t believe him.”

Madden’s hand swallowed hers and squeezed hard. “Is that true? I don’t want you to go the rest of your life thinking you can’t trust anyone. We’re not all bad. I swear.”

“I know.” She wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand and frowned at the black smudges that came away. “I mean, I think I know. My brain does. It’s just … something in me holds back. I can’t help it. It doesn’t matter anyway. Even if I wanted to try with him, nothing’s changed. The league won’t let us be together.”

Madden sighed. Concern still lined his face, but apprehension crept in to join it.

“What?”

“You didn’t look below the fold.”

He turned the paper over, and below the picture of Carter and the waitress was another picture. This one featured her checking line. Kevin Scott, Ben Collier, and Dylan Cole sported shirts that read:
Badass Mother Pucker, Go Puck Yourself
, and
Pucking Eh’
respectively.