Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (13 page)

At the door to his building, he glanced back up the street, considering extending his walk for a while longer. There was a party at Chris Emmerson’s house tonight, just friends and family since the players had to keep an early night. He’d decided not to go, but maybe he should. Nathalie would be there. Even though he’d told Semenov to stay out of his business, Brody really could use Nathalie’s help.

He glanced at his phone to check the time. He could walk another hour and still be back in time to get ready.

He’d just started to turn away from the lobby when a soft voice broke over him, freezing him in place.

Very slowly he faced Ann. She was just outside the building, like she’d been waiting in the lobby and had walked out when he turned away.

“Can we talk?” she asked. “Please.”

She had her hands jammed into her coat pockets and her head tilted down, looking at him but not quiet meeting his gaze. Her hair was tucked under a wooly hat with the Empires’ logo on it, a few blond strands escaping to wisp around her cheeks in the wind. Her skin was flushed from the cold, but beneath that red, she looked pale.

“Come on up,” he said, turning back to the lobby, and holding the door for her.

He waved absently at the doorman as they walked to the elevator. It took an act of will not to pull Ann into his arms once they were inside. Instead, they stood awkwardly on the ride to his twelfth floor apartment.

He let her in ahead of him, then took his time taking off his coat, gloves, and scarf at the door, needing a few moments to steady himself. Taking her coat to hang might have been a mistake because the material carried her scent and that scent filled his head, making him want to ignore the needed conversation and just take her to bed.

That made him feel pathetic, so when he offered her a seat on the couch he was sharper than he meant to be. She flinched, and he cursed silently.

He sat in the big recliner chair next to the couch and waited in silence. He didn’t trust himself to start the conversation, even though he knew he should at least apologize for pushing things the other night.

She stared around the living room for a bit, looking at everything but him. She’d been here a few times, but they mostly went to her apartment. It was closer to the Brooklyn Banking Center, the Empires’ home rink, and he liked how cozy her place was. As he waited for her to start, he wondered what she saw, what she was thinking. And it was on the tip of his tongue to ask, because the silence was stretching his nerves to breaking.

Finally, she faced him fully. “I’m sorry about our fight. You deserve an explanation.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed.” He tried not to sound grudging, but he was too wound up to make it a proper apology.

“No, you’re right. I’ve disappeared on you twice. I never have explained. If…if we’re going to have more than sex, I should have been honest. But I don’t know how to be.”

He frowned. “What’s that mean?”

“This is something I never talk about.”

“Does Nathalie know?”

“She’s my sister.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, she knows. She’s been helping me.”

“With what?”

She swallowed visibly and looked away again. “I don’t know if I can tell you, Brody. My parents…” She trailed off and shook her head. “Never mind.”

“When I asked if you’d disappear again, you couldn’t say no. Why and where would you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you here if you aren’t going to be honest with me, Ann?”

She raised her hands, a gesture of surrender, and pressed her lips together. He saw the dampness in her eyes and had to grip the armrests to keep from going to her.

“Do you want more with me than sex?” he asked. A question he should probably have asked the other night.

“Yes.”

“We can’t have that without honesty.”

“Have you been honest with me?”

“About everything.” Except one little thing. He hadn’t told her he was in love with her yet. But that wasn’t a lie, just an omission.

She flinched. “Brody…” She closed her eyes, and a tear leaked out.

That little drop of moisture almost broke him. He leaned forward, not sure what he intended to do, but knowing he couldn’t just sit here while she cried.

When she opened her eyes, when she looked at him with her jaw set and her gaze fierce, he froze in mid-motion, then slowly sat back.

“Fine.” She nodded. “Fine. I’m going to be honest. Please, please don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Just…” She shook her head hard and said, “Watch my hand.” She held it up, palm facing the ceiling.

He scowled. What the hell was she doing?

Ann concentrated harder than she’d ever done before, focusing all her attention on controlling the fire. She’d managed to start the fire on her hands once or twice without her entire arm erupting into flames, but only in the safety of Mr. Mendez’s basement. Part of her was terrified if she tried this, she’d burn down his apartment. But she had to at least try. He deserved that much.

Nothing happened for a long moment, and then the tingling in her palms got more intense, and the heat built. She narrowed her eyes, a physical attempt to get the fire to do the same, stay in a narrow little ball on her palm. When the blue flames burst to life, she gasped, surprising even herself with the show.

She kept her attention on the fire ball, afraid to look away and break her concentration. Now came the tricky part, putting it out and calming the heat.
You can do this
, she chanted to herself.
You’ve done it before. Just close your hand and breathe away the heat.

For a heart-stopping moment, the flames engulfed her fist, getting bigger rather than going out. She breathed a little deeper and envisioned pulling the flames back into her skin where they belonged. When they vanished, she opened her hand and wiggled her fingers, smiling just a bit. She’d done it. Her heart was thumping hard from the short burst of adrenaline, but she’d still done it. And not destroyed anything.

That thought reminded her that Brody was watching, and she might still have destroyed something. She hesitated and then forced herself to face him.

He was pale, his eyes huge, his jaw slack. He blinked at her, looked back at her hand as horror spread through his expression. Then he crossed himself.

Her shoulders slumped. She couldn’t wait around to hear the epithets, the curses and accusations. She stood and fled, pausing at the door long enough to grab her coat before she slammed out of the apartment.

He didn’t follow. He didn’t even call her name.

Brody found Nathalie standing at one side of the party with Semenov, quietly talking and drinking a glass of Scotch. She blinked a few times when he stormed up to her.

Brody ignored the way Semenov moved to stand between him and Nathalie. “Has she called you?” he asked.

“Ann? No, why?”

“Here.” He handed her a ticket to the Classic. “Make sure she comes to the game tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I need to talk to her.”

“You want to explain what’s happened?”

“In private.”

Semenov growled. “You’re not going anywhere with her without me.”

“Does he know?” Brody asked Nathalie without looking at his goalie.

Her eyes narrowed again, and she pursed her lips. “Let’s find a more private spot.”

He trailed her and Semenov to a quiet nook off the main living room area.

“Tell me what you know,” Nathalie said when they were safely out of earshot of anyone else at the party.

“Pyrokenesis? That’s what she’s been hiding.”

Her brows rose. “You know the real word for it? That’s a good start. Tell me what happened.”

He told her everything, because he needed her help. Because Ann turned to her for help.

“Why do you want her at the game?”

“I need to talk to her.”

“If you call her out as Devil’s spawn I will kick your ass, Brody Evans.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Her mother. Her parents. Didn’t she tell you about them?”

“A little. Only that they were religious nuts. What do they have to do with anything?”

“That’s the reaction she was expecting from you.”

“Why would I react that way? I’m not a religious nut.” Then he remembered. He’d crossed himself. A knee-jerk reaction he’d barely thought about, something from his youth. He only ever went to mass on Christmas these day, and didn’t really consider himself religious anymore. But he’d been raised Catholic, and some things had just been ingrained.

“Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She got the wrong idea from my reaction.” But she should have known better. She should have known
him
better. She should have trusted him. He pushed aside the hurt. That wasn’t important now. “I really need to talk to her, Nathalie. Tomorrow. I can’t wait until after the game.”

“You sure you can play like this?” Semenov asked.

“Not all three periods.”

“Why not see her tonight? Or before the game?” Nathalie asked.

“She won’t answer my calls and she’s not at her apartment tonight. She’ll answer your call. And I won’t have time before the game because of all the media stuff. We need a minute of privacy. We can squeeze that in during the first period break. If you two will help.”

She exchanged a look with Semenov, unspoken understanding moving between them.

Finally, she said, “I’ll try. For her sake. And for the game.”

He smiled a little at her last jab. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded.

“Why did Ann come to you? Why did she think you could help her with the pyrokenesis?”

Semenov drew himself up, as if ready to put an end to the conversation.

Nathalie waved him away. “My mother called me Devil’s spawn before leaving me and my father. She told Ann that my father and I were minions of the Devil. Who better to go to when you have a fire ‘curse’?”

“You don’t believe in that devil,” he commented.

He hadn’t wanted to intrude on her privacy, so he’d never come out and asked her about her religion. But his curiosity hoped she’d discuss it with him one day because he was fascinated by it and the differences between being a green witch and a Wiccan.

“No,” she said, “but Ann didn’t know that before we met.”

“You
were
able to help her, though. You understood what was happening?”

“She’s got a lot better control now. She’ll need more training, but she’s going to be fine.”

He didn’t miss how she’d sidestepped actually answering his question. “You’d make a good politician,” he said.

She snorted a laugh.

“You’ll make sure Ann is there tomorrow?” He didn’t even try to hide his desperation.

“Are you breaking up with her or fixing things?”

“I’m hoping to fix things. I love her.”

“Even with this talent of hers?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll make sure she’s there.”

Ignoring Semenov, he snatched Nathalie up in a big hug. “Thank you.” He set her on her feet and grinned at Semenov’s scowl. “Don’t stay up too late,” he told his goalie, just to irritate him more, then he left the party.

He had some planning to do.

New York City hosted the Winter Classic at the Queens Bank Stadium. The place was a huge, open-air baseball stadium with lots of room to walk on the field level and a friendly, eager vibe as the hockey fans flowed in through the gates.

Ann hadn’t been here before, since she’d never gone to any sporting events before meeting Brody. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was here now, except that Nathalie had insisted. She owed her sister too much to refuse. Still, being around the crowds of enthusiastic fans reminded her too sharply of the last hockey game she’d attended and the chair armrest she’d melted.

Nathalie took her arm as they went up the escalator to the field level from the main rotunda. “Stop fretting. I’m here with you this time. You’ll be fine.”

Ann forced a smile. As they pushed through the crowds to their seats—a section near the ice reserved for the teams’ family and special guests—she gripped Nathalie’s arm tighter.

“Why does he want to see me?” Ann asked. Again.

“To talk. I’m not saying any more than that because it’s between you guys to settle this.”

“You should have seen his face. I can’t take him looking at me like my parents would.”

“He won’t. I already told him I’ll kick his ass if he tries.”

“He’s almost a foot taller than you and regularly gets into fist fights on the ice,” Ann pointed out.

“Ha. I’d still kick his ass. He knows it, too.”

Ann grinned.

They settled in their seats just as the two teams hit the ice to warm up. She couldn’t help looking out for Brody, both dreading and hoping for the moment he’d look up into the stands and see her. But he didn’t look their direction. He was all focus and attention, stretching, practicing shots, and running through drills.

She tried to convince herself the fact that he wanted to talk to her was a good thing, that he hadn’t brought her all this way just to tell her they couldn’t see each other anymore. Why bother? Hope and fear thrummed through her blood, making her pulse pound a little too hard. She focused on calming her nerves, keeping her control. Having Nathalie next to her helped.

When the first period began, despite herself, her stomach tightened with dread and expectation. She could barely watch the game, her every nerve anticipating her meeting with Brody.

As the clock ticked down and the buzzer sounded, Nathalie stood. “Come on. You two won’t have much time.”

She let Nathalie lead the way, as they took the stairs down to the ground level, flashed their passes at a guard, and were let in through a locked door to the sub-level where the locker rooms and media rooms were located. Ann stared at the milling crowds in horror. How would she and Brody talk with reporters everywhere?

“Why here and now?” she hissed at Nathalie.

“Because he insisted. Come on, Alex said there’s a place around the corner here…”

They made their way to what looked like an equipment storage room, stacked neatly with baseball bats, bases and other things Ann couldn’t identify but which she presumed had something to do with the stadium’s usual purpose as a baseball field.