Van2, page 6
“Fuck,” I growl. That was a good fucking play, executed flawlessly, only to be denied by a remarkable save.
Such is the nature of the game.
And admittedly, something I’m enjoying. The intensity of competition has been a bit of a balm to my soul. It lets me evade the horrors of my reality. When I feel the chill of the arena, the sound of blades cutting through ice, it transports me to an almost fantasy dimension where I can escape completely.
Coming back to pro hockey was the best decision I’ve made in a long time.
A minute and a half later, I’m back on the ice with my third-line mates. This is only our fourth game together and we’ve had only two practices, but we’re meshing well. Our center, Anders Blom, is a young kid at only twenty-three, drafted from the Swedish Hockey League. He’d been down in the minors when the plane crash happened and was pulled up to join the new squad. He needs some seasoning and according to our GM it’s one of the reasons they wanted me on the team.
Many came up from the minors and are young—at least by my standards at thirty-one.
Our left-winger, Evgeny Denisenko, is twenty-five but sometimes acts thirteen. I’ve quickly figured out he’s the prankster on the team and the one always cutting up at practice. I don’t say anything, though, because when he’s on the ice with me in the heat of battle, he’s fucking solid.
Dillon Martelle is the third-line right-winger and he’s closer to my age than the others. At twenty-eight, he’s married and has two kids. He spent most of his career in the minors but is playing super competitively this year.
Lastly, Mason Lavoie is my defense partner. A hulking kid of nearly six foot seven, he’s only nineteen and one of the youngest on the team. He’s whip-smart and fairly agile, despite his size. His biggest weakness I can see so far is his uncertainty about when to act the enforcer. His blood doesn’t run hot the way mine does and I tend to push boundaries when out on the ice. Callum specifically wants him to learn from me, so we’ve had a few talks.
With every stride, every check, every calculated move, I immerse myself in the rhythm of the game. The familiar sounds of skates carving the ice, sticks clashing, and the thud of the puck hitting the boards are a symphony that guides me forward.
Yes, coming back to the league was the best thing for me. It’s what I needed… to replace Simone. I immerse myself in the battle, letting my emotions ebb and flow as the momentum shifts back and forth between us and the Dragons. We trade goals, both sides refusing to back down. The tension in the arena is palpable as the clock winds down to the final minutes. Every shift counts—every play could be the difference.
In these crucial moments as the final seconds tick, I find solace in the camaraderie of my teammates. I’m the newest member of the Titans, but in the last six days, I’ve had nothing but their unwavering support. They’ve accepted me into the brotherhood with open arms and I’ve done my best to give it back. When I was with the Cold Fury, always hiding in fear that my true identity would be revealed, I kept myself closed off from everyone.
I’m not doing that this time.
While I might not be a fuzzy teddy bear, I’m forcing myself to develop relationships. This is my new family now.
♦
Often, an East Coast team would finish a West Coast game and fly back that night across the country. Tonight we’re staying in LA though since we have two days until our next home game and we had a late-night flight yesterday. The team is exhausted and the powers that be who created the schedule budgeted a night’s stay so we could sleep in real beds rather than in airplane seats.
It’s evident we’re close to the playoffs as normally many of the players would hit the bars in a place such as Los Angeles, especially after a win tonight. But every single one of them head up to their rooms, although a few stopped in the lobby bar for a beer.
I was invited but declined, wanting to give Etta a call before it got any later. She’s in Redding and on West Coast time. She would have been at tonight’s game except for a broken ankle that has her laid up.
Once in my room, I shed my suit, making sure to hang it up. Clad in only my briefs, I settle onto the bed with all the pillows propped behind me.
I dial Etta and she answers on the first ring. “Oh, Van… you played so good tonight. I was cheering you on so hard. Could you hear me?”
Laughing, I put her on speakerphone so I don’t have to hold it up to my ear. “Yeah… I heard you.”
“Ugh… I’m so disappointed I couldn’t be there.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask. Poor Etta missed a step on her back deck and rolled her ankle. Thank fuck Mark wasn’t working that day and was there to help her.
“I’m fine. Still feeling stupid for not paying attention. But Mark’s been taking very good care of me.”
I have to admit, I wasn’t happy when Etta started dating Mark Casperson. He’s a veterinarian specializing in reptiles, which I thought surely would be a deal breaker for her. But no… turns out love is stronger than her fear of snakes.
Eventually, I got over it, mostly because it’s what Etta deserves. She put her entire life on hold to take me in and raise me with love and devotion. I want her to have all the happiness in the world.
“Speaking of taking care of someone,” Etta says, and my entire body locks because I know where she’s going. “Where is that sweet wife of yours? I’ve put in a few calls and texts the last couple days and she’s not answered. Is she out on a research trip?”
Etta doesn’t know we’ve separated. I haven’t had the guts to tell her because I know she’ll land firmly on Team Simone. Etta read the book when it came out and while she doesn’t discount my feelings about it she’s managed to put it out of her mind, calling it “ridiculous clickbait.” She has no clue how far it’s caused me to spiral. How it’s why I’m back in the league so I could run far away from my normal life with Simone.
“Van?” Etta says, bringing my attention back to her question.
“Um… I’m sure she’s just busy,” I say lamely, knowing that will spark more questions.
“What’s going on?” she asks, in a tone that says I better not bullshit her.
I sigh and rub my hand along the back of my neck, digging into the muscles knotting with tension. “Simone and I are getting a divorce.”
“Like hell you are,” she snaps. “You two are the perfect couple.”
“We’re not,” I say wearily.
There’s a long, drawn-out silence but finally, she says, “Tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I asked her for a divorce.”
What follows is a litany of curses so loud, I have to turn the volume down on my phone. She ends by saying, “Now Van Turner… you owe me a lot and I’ve never once asked you to pay up for the way I rescued you, but I’m demanding you tell me the full story because in a million years you’ll never convince me that Simone is on board with this.”
“She’s not,” I admit without any pretense. “She’s firmly against it.”
“Is there someone else?” Etta asks, and I can hear in her voice that she’s dreading the answer.
Yeah, Etta. His name is Arco and he’s fucked up my life.
“No. It’s not like that.”
“Then what the hell is it like?” she demands.
I know that after I hang up with Etta, she’s going to call Simone, no matter that it’s nearly two a.m. on the East Coast. I know Simone won’t lie to any direct questions. She loves Etta as much as I do.
I know I have to give her the full truth. “Simone and I have been trying to get pregnant.”
“Oh,” Etta gasps, and I can even imagine her putting her hand over her mouth, expression brimming with hope. “A baby.”
“I can’t do it,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “I can’t bring a kid into my world, Etta. This book changed it all. It says horrible things about me and it provides even worse details about the crimes Arco committed. It’s not fair to Simone and it would be bordering on abuse to make my kids suffer with that. You, out of anyone, know how bad it was for me. How cruel people can be when you have such a dark stigma attached to you. So I decided I didn’t want kids, came back into the league and asked Simone for a divorce.”
“No,” she says. “No way. It didn’t go down like that. You’re leaving something out.”
Jesus, I hate how perceptive she is. “Simone said she’d give up the idea of kids if it bothered me that much, but I can’t do that to her. She was born to be a mother, and you know that. I’m giving her a divorce so she can have a happy life.”
“Her happy life is with you,” Etta retorts. “You don’t have the right to tell her otherwise.”
None of this is a surprise. It’s why I’d been dreading talking to Etta about it. Like I said… one hundred percent Team Simone.
“I’m not going to argue with you about it,” I say, the exhaustion over the topic clear in my tone. “This is my life, too, and I have a right to do what I think is best.”
It kills me when I hear a tiny sob. Etta’s voice is watery. “How can you cut out someone you love? How can you cut out the best thing that ever happened to you?”
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” I say, but that’s not exactly true. I’d say Etta and Simone are probably tied in that respect.
“Van… please don’t do this to her. She’s a beautiful soul and you’re going to crush her.”
My chest squeezes so painfully, it robs me of my breath. I can’t even respond because the pain I’m causing Simone comes back on me tenfold. But, I do as I always do when my heart screams at me.
I remind myself that my children would feel the same way when they’re being verbally tortured by other kids. Simone’s just going to have to bear it along with me so we don’t bring it down on precious souls too delicate to handle the cruelty.
“I’m sorry, Etta. But my mind is made up. I’m giving Simone the best chance at a strong marriage with children. I’m giving her the best chance at true happiness.”
“You’re an idiot,” she snaps, and it’s not lost on me that Simone has called me that once or twice in the last few weeks. “Where’s Simone?” she demands.
“She followed me to Pittsburgh. I’m sure she hasn’t called you back because she didn’t want to be the one to break this news to you.”
Another silence and I’m trying to think of something to say to make Etta feel better about this. But then she cuts my legs out from under me. “Twenty-three years, Van. That’s how long you’ve been under my wing and I’ve loved you like no other. You’ve been everything I could hope for in a child and my pride knows no bounds where you’re concerned. But tonight… you disappoint me. For the first time in twenty-three years, I’m ashamed of you.”
And then she hangs up on me.
I’m so stunned, I just stare at my phone, so many emotions barreling into me that it takes a while to process what just happened.
Etta removed herself from my corner, a place she’s lived for over two decades.
Now I’m truly alone.
CHAPTER 8
Simone
I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts, and if I had a full bladder, I’d probably pee my pants. The other women around the table have heard this story before, but they’re laughing just as hard.
I gasp, wiping tears away as I shake my head at Tillie. “I can’t believe you did that to Coen’s yard.” She turned his deck and backyard into a veritable zoo by covering it with bird- and small rodent food, salt licks for deer and numerous gaudy birdhouses to attract feathered friends. It seems they were neighbors and there was a real enemies thing going on. “What did he do?”
Tillie snickers, running her finger over her wineglass. “Oh, he threatened me, bullied me and made me clean everything up. But… well, then…” She blushes, her smile turning soft and reminiscent. “Let’s just say provoking Coen not only angers him but turns him on.”
Pain lances through me at the potent reminder. That’s exactly how it is with Van. Or at least, that’s how it was when I first captured him.
Not so much these days.
“What about you and Van?” Harlow asks. “How long have you two been married?”
It took me a hot minute to get everyone’s names down. Harlow’s engaged to Stone and she’s an attorney. Throughout dinner, I’ve learned a lot about these ladies that Brienne congregated, offering me a ready-made tribe of women to lean on.
“Two years,” I say, lifting my water glass to take a sip. “Been together three.”
“He’s such a good addition to the team,” Jenna says. She’s engaged to one of the assistant coaches, Gage Heyward. “They could really use someone with his experience heading into the playoffs.”
My eyes cut to Brienne and I’ve been wondering all night if she told anyone the truth about my marriage and how close it is to dying a horrible death. Only she and Sophie know since Malik opened his big dumb mouth. Oh, I gave him hell about it today in a phone call where I cursed him out, but then grudgingly admitted I was happy to be going for dinner with the women tonight.
The mere fact that I’m being asked questions about Van without any hint there’s something wrong tells me both ladies haven’t said a word. It doesn’t feel quite right to let them believe that everything is okay.
“Um… actually, I think you need to know that we’re separated.”
They all look at me with shock and sympathy. It’s Ava—Coach West’s girlfriend—who grabs my hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“But Van just got to the team last week,” Danica says with concern. She’s dating Camden. “It happened after you got here?”
I blow out a huge breath, looking around the table. “It’s actually a little more involved than that. And separated isn’t the right word. He left me in Vermont without even telling me he was coming back into the league.”
“That asshole,” Stevie says, and I like that she speaks her mind. I learned tonight that she owns a bar and is dating Hendrix.
“I agree,” I say with a laugh, accepting the humor in her proclamation.
“It’s because of the book,” Kiera says, and my head swivels her way. “It’s got him all twisted up and he’s running from it.”
My jaw sags open and I just gape at her. “How did you know?”
“I remember when that first article came out about his dad,” Kiera says. She’s deep in the hockey world as her brother is Drake McGinn, the same Drake engaged to Brienne. “Didn’t y’all split up then?”
I nod. “Yeah. He flipped out when that happened and it caused a rift between us. But he fixed it.”
“And here you are again, dealing with the emotional fallout from that bastard’s book,” Sophie grumbles.
Stevie raps her fist on the table, turning everyone’s attention to her. She motions around the table. “I’m sort of new to this group, just like you, but I can tell you, no one will have your back like these women. Brienne brought you into the fold and now you have all of us. I get that you don’t know us, but that will change very quickly as we’ve got a long dinner planned for tonight whereby we’re going to divulge all to each other. But… just so you know… I’m the woman who you come to for revenge and retribution. I’m the one who will call Van the asshole and figure out ways to help destroy him if he can’t get his head out of his ass. Also, I have access to several mean, burly bikers who will break knees for fun and not money. So there’s that.”
I stare at Stevie a moment before I burst out laughing, as do all the other ladies. Chatter wells as they tease her for being the ball-buster and my eyes find Brienne’s. She’s been mostly silent, letting the other ladies pull me into conversation, but her message is clear as she returns my look. See… I told you. We’ve got your back.
♦
My spirit is light as I walk up the front porch of Van’s house.
And immediately becomes heavy as I realize that without any thought, I referred to it as his house and not our house. I glance over my shoulder at the limo pulling away from the curb. Along with it goes all the happy vibes that bolstered me throughout the night.
The house is dark inside, although the porch light is on. That’s not Van’s doing, as I had turned it on before I left for dinner. I know the team plane touched down hours before the limo arrived to pick me up, but Van hadn’t come home at that point. He might be inside now or he might still be out… who knows. But I can guarantee if he’s in there, he’s already locked away in his bedroom so he doesn’t have to deal with me.
I unlock the door and slip inside, quickly silencing the beeping alarm panel by punching in the four-digit code. I set my keys on the table, let my purse slip to the floor and turn to find a huge, hulking figure in the dark.
I shriek with fear but immediately, even in the shadows, recognize Van.
“Where the fuck were you?” he demands.
I reach back, flip on the living room light and take in his angry expression. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from him in days and it’s five actual words he’s said to me.
I’m almost giddy from the attention and I want more. I push past him. “Not sure it’s any of your business, really.”
Van’s hand clamps on my upper arm and he pulls me to him. “Your safety is my business,” he growls low in his throat. “I was worried something happened to you because your car was here but you weren’t. You could have left a goddamn note, Simone.”
“Kind of like the way you let me know you were leaving on an away trip? You haven’t said two words to me in days, Van. Why would I give you the courtesy?”
I know that sounds petty and in truth, I didn’t think he’d even be here to worry about me, which is why I didn’t leave a note, but I hope the point is made that it hurts being left in the dark.
“You still haven’t told me where you were,” he says.
I don’t owe him anything, but I give him the truth. “I was out with friends.”
