Another Goal, page 6
Millie disengaged from me, turning her back to hop off the exam table. “I need to get dressed.”
She was doing it again; she pulled away whenever I mentioned my teammates, or Houston.
“I’ll be in the waiting room,” I said, shoving down my hurt.
When Millie appeared a few minutes later, I was pretty sure she’d been crying. But the duck of her head and the speed with which she scampered past me made it clear she didn’t want me to mention it—nor did she want to talk to me.
“When do you need to get to the airport?” she asked as she stood next to me in the lobby, waiting for a car.
“I have a few hours,” I said. “We can get lunch—”
“I should go to the office. I’ve already been away longer than I planned.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’d really like to spend the few hours I have with you. You could show me your favorite spot in the city, or we could hit that market I saw on the drive to your place.”
“I…I should really get to work.” She fidgeted, unable to meet my eyes. “Just so you know, I’m having Bree here, in Sri Lanka. We’re living here. But you’re welcome to visit.”
A sleek car pulled up outside the building, and a driver came around to open the door. Millie hurried outside. I followed more slowly so I had a moment to push down my frustration. Everything had been going so well. At least, I’d thought it was. But Millie was fixated on a path I couldn’t join, and that hurt.
“My season runs nine months out of the year, sometimes longer with exhibition games and the playoffs,” I said as I moved into the car next to her. “But I want to be involved.” I hesitated. “I wasn’t close to my parents, and I don’t want my—our child to have experience. You know, to wonder if she’s loved.”
I reached for Millie’s hand, only to realize she’d squished herself tightly against the other door—to make herself less of a target? Did she think I’d hurt her?
My frustration morphed into horror. The driver entered the car and looked back at us questioningly. As I debated what to do—try to push Millie into lunch or at least into going back to her apartment where we could talk—she told the driver to head to the airport.
Well, that told me where I stood. In Millie’s eyes, I was just the sperm donor, just an irritant she’d have to put up with from time to time.
“I have to keep Bree here, Luka. I know you don’t understand, but there’s no way she can go to Houston. Ever.”
“Why?”
She looked down at her clasped hands, and I noted how tightly she squeezed them. Even hurt and angry with her, I wanted to soothe her, to unclasp her hands and hold one while I helped her work through her fear.
Instead, I sat next to her, taut with nerves, as she stared down at her lap. She didn’t say another word until we pulled up at the terminal.
Then she looked up at me, her eyes filled with remorse and yearning. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she touched my jaw.
“Goodbye, Luka.”
I was so mixed up on days and nights, I had no clue what time it was when I got into Cruz’s truck at the airport to go straight to practice. I’d slept maybe a couple of hours on the plane, my mind spinning on Millie’s adamant refusal to return to Houston.
I didn’t have a lot of options, not if I wanted to be part of my daughter’s life. No doubt sensing my mood, Cruz drove in silence, but his eyes were suspicious, like he sensed I was on the verge of shattering.
“Millie said she can’t move back to the States. She can’t bring the baby here.”
“She tell you why?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, and that’s bugging me.”
I recognized her behavior, because I did the same thing when people tried to get me to talk about my parents, yet I was still smarting over it. I’d spent the entire layover in Doha walking around the terminal, replaying our conversation—or lack thereof—in my mind.
“Would bug me, too.” Cruz made a deep sound in his chest. “Hopper fucked the line.”
“Well, there’s that, at least. Surely that means Coach will put me back in my spot.”
“I hope so. You’re better at reading the defense than he is. No one will say it, but his sloppy play cost us the game.”
That made me feel good, but probably meant little. “Well, let’s show Jacksonville what a real offense can produce,” I said.
Cruz grunted, which I took as a yes. I managed an hour-long nap at the arena before I laced up for the pre-skate and warmups. With effort, I shoved my concerns about Millie and my daughter from my mind and focused on the practice. I scored a goal and offered Naese an assist during our scrimmage.
Our team won by two, and the guys were in a festive mood.
“You coming?” Naese asked me after.
“Nah, man, but have fun.”
He shrugged, and I realized that he looked miserable. I wondered if, like me, Naese wasn’t interested in the dating scene anymore. I was a family man now, whether or not Millie was ready to believe it.
“What’s wrong?” Cormac asked, concern etched into his expression.
“Nothing. I’m just tired from forty-plus hours of travel.”
“Right. How’s your woman?” he asked.
“Good.” She was healthy at least. Our relationship was not good, but I was too tired to go there right now. I just needed to fix it. I’d decided to call her at least once every day. I had to show Millie I was invested in her, in our daughter—in us as a family, if she’d believe that.
“And the baby?” Cormac asked.
I smiled. “I got pictures.”
Naese stepped back, possibly weirded out by the black and white sonogram shots, but Cormac, Cruz, and even Maxim oohed over my girl’s tiny features.
“Ida Jane said she hopes the baby has your cheekbones because they’re, and I quote—‘too gorgeous not to pass down.’” Maxim raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes while Naese made gagging sounds.
“My kid will be adorable with whatever cheekbones she has,” I said with all the authority I could muster.
“You’re having a girl?” Cormac thumped my shoulder. “Aw, a little girlie Stolly skating around.”
I grinned, prouder in that moment than of any of my hockey accomplishments—even holding the Cup. “Yeah. I’m a girl dad. She’s perfect.”
I touched the image, already missing Millie, frustrated to be so far away and not get to see her belly round with our daughter. I hated missing the first kicks or getting to talk to our baby in Millie’s belly, which was why Alyssa and I would continue developing our plan for me to be as involved as I could be. Video technology would help.
Melancholy settled in, but I forced it down. I knew how to work hard—harder than most other people. I’d win Millie over. I had to. My future with my daughter was at stake.
I grabbed my bag and headed toward the door, catching Coach’s eye on the way out. He gave me a small nod and a “proud of you” as I passed. Something else was in his gaze—something I wasn’t able to place.
A rideshare dropped me at my building, and I headed upstairs, already dialing Millie’s number. I desperately wanted her to answer; I needed to know that her dropping me directly at the airport hadn’t been a more extended goodbye.
She answered the video call with a tired smile. I glanced at the clock: just after eleven here, which meant it was 9:30 on Saturday morning there. The ten-hour-and-thirty-minute time change would take me a while to get right.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Fine. Tired. Pregnancy’s been hitting me hard.”
“I’m impressed that you’re awake so bright and early this morning,” I teased, hoping to lighten the heaviness between us the way I had that first night we met.
She blushed. “Yeah, I just got up. You’d think I was the one who’d traveled a full day.”
“I’d think you’re the one growing our daughter,” I replied. “Thank you for doing such a good job with her, Millie.”
Her breath caught, and her eyes went soft. She was so much more open now that I was on the other side of the world. Best I could work out, the distance between us made Millie feel safe. There was no hint now of the closed-off, abrupt dismissal she’d dished after he doctor’s appointment. Based on what Ida Jane had said, I was pretty sure someone close to Millie had hurt her. I didn’t want to be right, but that would explain why Millie was so determined to remain far, far from home.
Ida Jane had also told me Millie was a black belt in jiu jitsu. That dedication to martial arts and my growing hypothesis would explain the starburst patterns on her knuckles, which I’d also seen on a lot of boxers and MMA fighters who hit punching bags repeatedly.
“I was thinking about names,” she said, pulling me from my reverie.
This woman had so many layers. Peeling each one aside to get to her heart might prove more daunting than any task I’d ever completed—including getting the call to professional hockey.
“Great! I want to hear them. Is there one you love?” Please don’t pick one I hate. I wanted to give Millie everything I could, but I drew the line at a terrible name.
She licked her lips. “Bree, short for Briana. I want to call her Bree.”
“Bree…” I rolled it over my tongue a few times, then my mind. “That’s pretty.”
Her shoulders dropped and her smile grew. “Great! Now, tell me about your day. When did you get back? Did you make it for practice?”
I tossed the eighth grapefruit into the bowl on my counter after giving it a good huff. It smelled like Millie...sort of. I’d dreamed, again, about the night we’d spent together.
“It drives me wild,” I’d groaned into her neck, nuzzling against her to release more of the fragrance. Just like I had that night.
I’d relived it in my dreams so often that I could recite every detail.
“My shampoo?” she’d asked, sounding shocked.
“Yeah. I love it.”
“Um...grapefruit.”
“Mmm...”
I’d dropped tiny kisses along her hairline and down her cheek until I’d hovered over her mouth. Her pupils were blown wide with desire, and she’d clutched at my biceps, shifting against my hardening cock. How many times had we gone at it? I didn’t know—didn’t care because it wasn’t enough. I’d had a sinking feeling I’d never get enough of Millie Jones.
“That’s not it, though. There’s a flower...”
“M-m-my lotion,” she’d moaned into my mouth.
I’d kissed her with a languidness that spoke of the initial hunger quenched, but continued need. This had been unexpected. Beautiful. Just like the woman who’d kissed me back with abandon.
“What is it, pretty girl? What’s the smell I want to bury myself in?”
“L-lilac?”
“Fuck, it’s delicious. Like you.”
I sighed, the memory fizzling as someone—probably Cruz—knocked on my door. The dude had been checking up on me even more now that he knew about Millie and the baby.
That could also be because I’d poured my heart out a couple of nights ago, admitting how much I cared about Millie, how deeply I wanted to be an integral part of my kid’s life, how much I knew that mattered because my parents hadn’t provided it for me.
I opened the door to find Naese, my friend and nuisance, on the other side. He looked...unkempt, and unhappier than usual.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Why do you have a shrub on your table?” he asked, ignoring my question as he pushed past me into my space. He bristled with testosterone. “Shouldn’t that be in dirt?”
“It is in dirt, dipshit. And I’ve got a big pot for it outside on the terrace. I just haven’t planted it yet. Oh, hey! I got a new picture of my kid. Look.” I pulled the 3-D sonogram from my wallet and showed him Bree’s cute little face. “Millie sent them to me last night.”
I’d asked her to do this special procedure so I had something tangible of my daughter. Millie agreed to most of my requests, as long as they didn’t include her returning to Houston or me bringing our daughter to the city.
“She’s tiny. Cute,” Naese said, handing the photo back.
Fine, he wasn’t into the bonding-over-kids thing. Where was Cormac or even Maxim when I needed them? At their houses with their women.
Envy welled because I wanted that—what they had.
“Want to see the photo Millie sent me this morning of her bump?” I asked.
“No, man. Looking at your woman’s belly is weird.” He pierced me with his narrowed gaze. “Is she why you have a plant on your table? Are you practicing keeping something alive? Gotta say, I think the practice-with-a-cat thing makes more sense. Cuz it’s like alive alive.”
“Shut up, dickhead. I didn’t buy a plant to practice on.” I’d bought a baby doll, which was currently on the pillows of my bed, the closest thing I had to a full-time connection with my child. I scuffed my toe on the hardwood, refusing to meet Naese’s gaze in case he figured that out and busted my balls. “Lilac reminds me of Millie. And since we need to complete the season...” I shrugged. “Made me feel closer to her.”
Naese’s ass thudded with an unrecognizable heaviness onto one of my barstools.
“Careful, man,” I said. “I like those.”
“And the grapefruit? Do you even like grapefruit?” Naese reached over and snagged the lilac, burying his face into the blooms.
“I love how they smell on Millie. But they’re bitter and taste like a year-old orange.”
He burbled out a halfhearted laugh. “Give ’em to Mac. He likes the juice.”
Chapter 5
Millie
I lingered in my kitchen, feeling restless and listless after I finished my tea and hoping Luka would call. I hadn’t seen him in nine weeks, and I missed him more with each passing day. Much as I hated to admit it, I cared about him. A lot. And talking to him was the highlight of my day.
I wondered how he was feeling. He’d seemed a bit down since they lost their championship run a couple weeks ago. The Wildcatters had been close to a title, making it all the way to the conference finals. I’d hated how defeated Luka had looked as he did a final lap around the ice after that last game.
When it didn’t seem I was going to hear from him this morning, I went out onto my balcony and looked down at the city and the sea beyond. I loved the view but felt unsettled—no, worse than that. Luka never missed a day of talking to me, to find out about Bree. Yet he hadn’t called yesterday. And he hadn’t let me know he’d planned to skip today. Maybe he hadn’t planned on it and something terrible happened.
Ida Jane would have told me, wouldn’t she?
Or what if nothing was wrong, but he’d decided I was too much work with my cold shoulder and unwillingness to discuss my reasons for not returning to Houston. Maybe he was out right now and had met a new, beautiful woman.
Maybe he’d decided I wasn’t worth the effort.
I couldn’t blame him. I’d been shoving him away since we’d spent the night together. Melancholy clutched at my chest, and I blinked back tears.
If Luka had given up on me, I had no one to blame but myself. I couldn’t be mad at him, and that brought my mood even lower. As I looked out toward the sea, I admitted that I missed Ida Jane fiercely. I even missed the smog and noise and humidity of Houston. But mostly, I missed Luka.
He’d been so kind, even when I’d kicked him out of the car and sent him directly back to Houston after Bree’s sonogram.
He hadn’t needed to be; I hadn’t expected his kindness after that. But Luka, I’d realized, was inherently good, just as Maxim had said. He deserved better than me, better than the position I’d forced him into. But I was afraid—so damn afraid to go back to Houston, to let my father know I had a baby, to tell Luka the sordid details of my past.
The door’s chime took me by surprise, causing me to spin around too fast. I grasped the balcony railing for support, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Then I headed toward the door, praying, as I always did, that my father wasn’t on the other side.
My palms were sweaty as I eased closer and peeked out the glass side panel. I had to grab the door handle for support so I didn’t collapse to my knees—or worse, fall flat on my face.
“I see you, Millie.”
I gasped and backed away. Luka was here. In Colombo. Again.
I hadn’t known he was coming. I’d talked to him a few days ago, right before Cormac and Keelie’s wedding, but he hadn’t called yesterday, and now I knew why. He’d been on a plane for…I tried to remember.
“Let me in. Please,” he said. “I’ve been traveling for almost forty hours, and I left right after Cormac’s wedding.”
Luka’s voice was deep and resonated in my chest, along with a warmth I hadn’t felt since I’d last seen him. That settled in my middle but radiated outward. I was shocked by how much I enjoyed the sensation.
I’d already flicked the lock and turned the handle before I realized I was following his order. “Y-you’re…”
“Here. Yes. To see you and Bree.”
His hair was longer, his eyes intense even with the shadows under them. He was so beautiful. He wore a cotton T-shirt and cargo shorts. Those would also be made from cotton, which was ninety-nine percent cellulose. Cellulose was a long chain of glucose molecules where the carbon connected to oxygen… My mini science lesson didn’t stop the vise that gripped my chest. Luka was here. I wasn’t ready to see him. I was a mess of longing and anxiety.
When he leaned in closer, my fingers fluttered, desperate to touch his stubbled cheek. “But…” I settled my hands on my bump under my cotton tank top, needing to ground myself. My belly, warm and rigid, encased our sleeping baby.
“The season is over, as you know. I was in Hawaii for Cormac and Keelie’s wedding, and I had to decide—go back to my lonely condo in Houston or come see you.” His eyes filled with yearning, his gaze lingering on my pregnant belly, which seemed to grow each day. He shut his eyes, anguish in his expression. “I’ve hated missing so much of your pregnancy. Now, will you please let me inside so we can, you know, talk?”
