Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (23 page)

“This is hard,” she said, surrendering once again to the pull of that hard kitchen chair. “I mean, leaving.”

He stared at her, and those eyes of his seared through her. Dear god, he was killing her.

“Would this help?”

And out of nowhere he stood. She followed, and watched as he walked toward her. Left, right, moving his hips, lazy and gorgeous. Purposeful.

Because she knew what he was going to do. He kissed her. Hard, seriously, full of everything he had. Walked back, still kissing her, not letting her go, and she sank into it, to him.

Still walking toward that door, still kissing her. He put his hands through her hair and pushed her back against the door. Metal, wood, she couldn’t tell through the heavy coat she’d managed to put on. But his lips, soft, hard, punishing and just…

When she pulled back, she knew she had to go. Because otherwise, she’d never leave. And that would be trouble.

From : [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Silly question…

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Very few questions are silly, but I’ll answer whatever you’re asking me

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

What’s your address?

The Bronx

Event: Family Skate at Yankee Stadium

Max

It was much easier to send Kayleigh an email than talk to her on the phone. He just liked that the emails forced him to use his English in a way he would otherwise avoid, and think about what he had to write before he did so.

Those emails became almost a diary; even when he was only separated from Kayleigh by a busy schedule, he’d email her. He told her about the crazy party he attended, where he had to steal his defense partner’s phone and help make coffee for most of the rest of his single (drunken) teammates. He told her about how much fun he’d had with the kids from the special Olympics, how great it was to see the smiles on their faces, and how much he wished she’d been there that evening when the entire team was wearing tuxedos.

What he didn’t talk about was the impending arrival of his grandfather, as well as both of his parents, who had been divorced for more than half of his life. At the same time.

It had started as a special gathering for new years and the Winter Classic the next day before it extended. His father arrived first, scaring him by wanting to spend time together, maybe Christmas as well as New Years? Then his mother, who decided that he had no business spending Christmas alone with his father, said she would arrive earlier to prepare his tiny shoebox apartment when he had practice. And then, because that’s how he worked, his grandfather decided that he would join them all so that none of them were alone for any reason.

He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it, especially since they all would be in town in time to see this evening’s game. His grandfather and Alain would get both of Max’s parents to the game. He would see them after.

But now? Now was the family skate in the Bronx, and if he was smart enough, he would be able to spend some time with Kayleigh and not just email her.

Kayleigh

After delays and planes and university hang-ups, her parents were supposed to arrive late that night, if not early the next day. They’d be just in time to light the last two Chanukah candles with Melanie and her family and experience a Christmas in New York. Unfortunately, that meant that she came to the family skate in the Bronx with the same family she’d gone to the family skate in Manhattan with: her brothers. And they were driving her crazy.

Not to say that she didn’t love them. And as if that weren’t enough, over the weeks and months they’d been spending together, Kay was glad to watch a bond develop between the reunited siblings that hadn’t really been there before. Possibly because of distance, but more likely because Brooklyn, and Bryce’s new resolve to stick to the treatment plan he’d been given, agreed with the eldest Emerson sibling.

“Come
on
, Kay!” Bryce bellowed, his long fingers beckoning her toward them as if she were breaking some cardinal rule by taking in the famous ballpark by herself. “Skate with your dear brothers.”

“And risk being knocked on my arse?” She laughed. “No chance!”

“Come on, Kay,” Mel shouted. “They’ll drive you mad if you don’t!”

Which, she admitted to herself, was absolutely, one hundred percent, true. Even if it was only Mel they were going to drive crazy. Being a good sister, she pushed off from the wall, skating toward where they stood at where center field would be. But in true Emerson fashion, her brothers lifted her up…

And began to spin her around. Her view got faster and faster, the famous ballpark passing quickly. “Damn it!” she shouted as she smacked one of the two culprits, probably both of them…most of them.

“Put me
down
, you buffoons! I was bloody freakin’ right not to let you two…”

But when they did put her down, she was so dizzy that she could barely see straight. “Whoa…”

“Don’t move…
arrêt
hmm?”

Max’s voice hit her ear, as smooth as the French chocolate he’d sent her from a store he’d found when he was playing the Typhoons down in North Carolina.

“If I said you saved me again,” she managed, “it would be…”

“Routine,” he replied, grinning. “Now you tell me when, OK?”

And without him having to explain, she understood that he’d let her go when she felt she could stand on her own two feet.

“Breathe, OK?”

Which somehow she had managed not to do until he’d reminded her. OK, then. In. Out. Breathe.

And yeah, she realized as she found herself getting less reliant and more comfortable against his shoulder, this would be interesting. But she couldn’t resist him. Especially when he was being sweet. Lord help her.

But there wasn’t any help in sight. In fact, it was getting harder and harder to let him go, to leave the safety of his arms, and move away from the bright beacon of his lips. Even though somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew her brother would be pissed, not only because he was protective but also because Max was a teammate. But whether it was because he and Bryce were acting like assholes, or she was inspired by the winter breeze or the happy families skating across the ice on Yankee Stadium, she gave into the moment and kissed him. It was gorgeous, strong and beautiful.

But when she felt him pulling away, she let him. And the regret in his eyes was palpable. “Later,” he whispered in her ear.

Then and only then, she smiled.

Event: Evening Game vs the Apples at Brooklyn Banking Center

Max

Max knew there would be repercussions for that kiss. He’d managed to keep his relationship with Kayleigh quiet up until that point, though how, he’d had no idea.

There hadn’t been a reaction from Chris after practice, not even during the quick bus ride back to Brooklyn from the Bronx. So even as he sat down in front of his locker, he shoved thoughts of brotherly vengeance aside in favor of visualizing his defense-based warm-up as he laced his skates.

“I saw what happened at the family skate.”

Captain. Emerson. The voice sounded angry. And close. Max finished lacing his right skate, looked up at his Captain’s expression and saw granite.

“You need to stay away from my sister. I don’t give two shits that you’re helping her or she’s helping you. This helping shit needs to stop. I told you to stay away from her. You’re too young and too fucking immature to give her what she deserves.”

His
percée
was useful for once in his life. Emerson talked about his sister, but at the core of his captain’s anger was betrayal. To Emerson, Max had betrayed some confidence. That was easier to deal with because he could understand where that came from. And for the first time, it didn’t bother him. So he stood. But that was it.

“You’re not saying anything. Open your fucking mouth and goddamn promise me you’re not going to touch her again.”

The captain waited a half second before continuing toward him. As if the captain had become an arrow, heading toward its target. And still, Max said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would stop this. Not then at least.

Faster, closer. He stood his ground, and then he ducked, pivoted and lightly grabbed Emerson’s arms midpunch. “You don’t need this,” he whispered. Clear, soft and sure. “Not now. Not
avant
…”

Except of course it didn’t matter because there was an elbow. It was hard, slamming into the center of his chest. He lost his breath, but caught himself right before he hit the ground.

The look on Emerson’s face was beyond angry.
Merde
.

He didn’t want to punch the captain. He had no desire to punch Chris in the face or anywhere else. Didn’t want to punch Kayleigh’s brother in the face.

But as the rest of the team came into the locker room, Jahr and Karpov grabbed the captain to hold him back, while Smythe and a few others grabbed Max. Evans, for his part, came in and shook his head at them all.

“Can’t we all just get along?” Evans wondered aloud, even as his hands were ready to push people further apart.

That made Max laugh. Then the rest of the team, now that the tension was finally broken, followed suit.

Kayleigh

Kayleigh found herself at the evening’s game instead of the rehearsal. She felt horribly guilty, but the Philharmonia and the team had decided that her presence was more important at the game. So there she was, sitting in the stands at the BBC. As the third period started, she sipped on her soda and settled in to watch the action. The game itself was going pretty well; the team was leading after two periods, and nobody had made any stupid mistakes that resulted in unwarranted penalties.

She was sitting next to Mel on one side and some random person on the other. Mel made nervous noises every five minutes, and the woman on the other side had freaked out when Kayleigh had celebrated the Empires’ last goal.

“Hockey’s in my blood,” she’d said unapologetically. “My brother’s out there.”

“As is your boyfriend.”

Mel’s whispered comment didn’t require an answer; she wasn’t going to let her brother’s girlfriend and her interest in romantic relationships mess up her hockey watching mojo. Max was important, yes; she spent time with him, but he wasn’t her boyfriend. And yes, he also kissed well.

“I’ve been watching my brother play in various places and guises for years when I could,” she continued, ignoring Mel. “School, Uni,” she shrugged. “It’s always been fun.”

But there was something in the air. And she wasn’t sure what it was; were things too perfect? No injuries, no horrible penalties, nothing out of the ordinary.

“You okay?” she asked Mel.

“Fine. Enjoying the game when they’re not acting like idiots…”

She’d ask Bryce, but Bryce was waiting at his apartment for their parents. And the last thing she wanted to do was to stress Bryce out with a phone call that asked about “things in the air.” So instead, she sat back, settled in, and focused on the game.

Max

Third periods were always exciting, especially when the team was doing well. The ice felt good under his skates, and the home team was playing dumb, five minutes in. They’d just forced their top line to send the puck clear out of their offensive zone. Intent on nullifying an icing call, he skated after it, catching it on his stick before it went over the line. He skated it around the back of the net before making an outlet pass toward Smythe. It landed on his stick. He felt Smythe’s relief and went back to position, watching the play as it developed. Smythe handed the puck over to Karpov before heading off to the bench for a change.

Max focused, tight, closely.

All of a sudden, he felt the shoulder, the elbow, and then the shove to the wall. He elbowed back but the push was too strong coming on the other way. There was a loud noise, and then there was nothing.

Kayleigh

Her breath stopped suddenly and completely as Max hit the ice. He didn’t move. He wasn’t moving. “Oh, god.”

She didn’t even know she’d stood, but she was standing and now she had to go…somewhere. Somewhere she could get to someone who would let her see where he was going. She had to. She absolutely had to.

Melanie, who was sitting next to her, took her hand. “It’s fine….really.”

She shook her head, took a deep breath and headed out of the closest exit, toward the elevator, her heart in her throat. One of the guards downstairs took pity on her, leading her toward the player’s entrance.

“You’re family,” the guard said. “We know who you are.”

She could barely speak as she saw the stretcher, followed by three people who were speaking in rapid French. She could hear Paris in the woman’s voice; she had to be his mother, and the man in Timberlands and a coat had to be his father. The grandfather stood to the right of the woman, half separating her from the father who constantly tried to stand by her.

She found herself trying to breathe, to force herself to do something that was slightly productive. Except all she could manage was one word. “Max…”

“We don’t speak French,” the paramedic said. “Who the hell can speak French here?”

Kayleigh raised her hand. “I do.”

“Good.” He pointed at Max’s mother. “You tell her she and you can come with us. And put,” he pointed to Max’s father and grandfather, “these two in the taxi. Tell them we’re going to Maimonides and we’re off.”

After following the instructions the paramedic gave her, she got into the ambulance and held her breath.

Somehow, after the harrowing ride in the ambulance, pulling up to the hospital only to discover that there were no French translators on staff was not surprising. A very helpful nurse explained they had a phone system, but the concept didn’t erase the look of panic that remained on Max’s father’s face.