Major Misconduct (Aces Hockey #1) (23 page)

She fought back the reflexive impulse to get defensive. It was true. “Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “But you know why, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “Because you wanted it.”

She shook her head slowly. “No. That wasn’t it, Dunc. I never asked for stuff. I mean, sometimes I did, but I wasn’t some spoiled kid who had a tantrum whenever she didn’t get what she wanted. They bent over backwards to make me happy because their lives were so wrapped up with giving
you
what you needed. Because you were the mega-talented hockey star who was destined to make it big in the NHL. They spent all their time driving you around to games and practices and tournaments, making sure you got everything you needed.”

He opened his mouth but she held up a hand.

“It was fine,” she said softly. “I never resented it. Well, maybe a little, sometimes. But I was proud of you too. I wanted you to succeed. I just wished
I
had something that great. Something I was that good at too.” One corner of her mouth kicked up.

He stared at her. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I never…Lovey. You
do
have something that great.”

She shook her head, smiling. “No, I don’t. But I have found what I want to do with my life, and I hoped you would support that and be happy for me.”

“Shit. I’m an idiot. I am happy for you. But…what I meant was, you have something special that I don’t have. You have this amazing…brightness. Personality. A love for life and a way of making people feel good…I don’t know anybody else who has that like you do.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Thank you.”

He gave a terse nod and met her eyes. He tipped his head to one side and rubbed his jaw. “Is that why relationships never last for you?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think you’re not good enough for anyone? Because you don’t have anything special?” He stared at her, eyes intense. “If that’s what’s stopping you from being with Marc…you better think again, Lovey.” He shook his head, then said good night and left.

She sat alone in her little apartment. Her bed and dresser and nightstand were her only furniture. Her clothes hung in the closet and she’d unpacked her toiletries and the few towels and linens she had, placing them in the bathroom. She still had to unpack her cookware and dishes. The apartment came with a microwave, so she’d eaten a frozen dinner last night with a plastic fork, and that morning drank her store-bought smoothie that tasted like crap.

But it wasn’t the emptiness that bothered her the most. It was the loneliness.

That was stupid. She’d lived alone in Madison for a few years after college. In Madison she’d had a busy social life. Here, she was starting to make friends. She’d gone to her yoga class that morning, chatted with Michele, who she’d met there and had lunch with that one day.

She was just used to two big, active guys being around all the time. Except they hadn’t been around all the time. They were busy, and they’d been gone lots of days and nights on road trips. So she didn’t understand why she felt so lonely.

She just needed to keep herself busy.

She thought about calling Jillian to see if she wanted to go out. But she had no idea where. It was Sunday night. She wasn’t even hungry, so suggesting dinner seemed stupid. A movie? Maybe.

But she was also afraid Jillian would figure out something was wrong and Lovey would be tempted to spill everything that had happened, and she felt…ashamed. She didn’t really want any more people to know how badly she’d screwed up. Luckily Duncan seemed to have forgiven her. And seemed to have forgiven Marc. She’d been terrified after blowing up and actually fighting with Marc that Duncan would be so angry he’d ask Marc to move out. If she’d wrecked their relationship, she would never have forgiven herself.

She tossed a package of popcorn into her microwave and waited while it popped. Dinner.

Weirdly, Duncan didn’t seem mad at Marc. He seemed…sorry for him. Oh yeah, because his heart was broken. Duncan was mad at
her
for that.

She felt a sharp stabbing pain in her own heart. She shook it off.

She sat on her bed, back against the wall, the bag of popcorn on her lap, music playing from her iPod through speakers.

She couldn’t stop the thoughts that tumbled through her head, random and disjointed. She couldn’t figure out the feelings that swirled through her, the ache of longing in her chest, the pinch of regret, the heavy sadness.

Her heart hurt so badly. She hurt for Marc. Because she cared about him. And she hurt for herself, because she missed him. She wanted to be with him.

She closed her eyes as a wave of yearning swept over her.

Tears slipped out of her eyes and she held the popcorn bag, not eating. The kernels she’d just chewed and swallowed felt stuck in her throat.

She remembered Marc tracing a finger over her tattoo.
Live. Laugh. Love.

She’d thought she was living her motto. Living life to the fullest. Pursuing her dream, the dream she’d finally realized. Starting a new life in a new city, making new friends.

She’d thought living, laughing, and loving meant having fun. But life was more than that. She’d thought she was fun and spontaneous and adventurous. In reality, she was undisciplined and self-indulgent. That comment of Duncan’s the night he’d walked in on them—what Lovey wants, Lovey gets…Duncan was right, she couldn’t commit. To jobs. To men. To a hair color.

Well, that had been a few years ago. She now accepted her strawberry-blond hair and freckles.

But still. She was a screwup. Then Duncan’s words played through her mind
. If that’s what’s stopping you from being with Marc…you better think again, Lovey.

She was still living in big brother’s shadow, so afraid to fail, she wouldn’t commit to anything. And that had caused a good man to get hurt.

A very good man. The best. Sure, they teased him and called him Captain Codger. But she’d seen him laugh and smile. She’d seen the lighter side of him. And what was wrong with a man who was responsible and honorable, dedicated to his sport, loyal to his team and his teammates? Giving his all every game, even concerned for his boys off the ice too, wanting to make sure Dale got help, wanting to make sure Ryan and Andrew felt like part of the team.

She’d thought having sex with Marc was loving. But loving was so much more than sex.

Loving was being together and talking about anything and everything. Sharing hopes and dreams and fears. Like Marc had shared the weight of responsibility that was dragging him down when the team had been losing, when he knew he needed to do something difficult. And she’d told him about her business, her hopes and dreams for it, how growing up she’d always felt she could never be good enough or live up to her big brother. She’d never told anyone else that.

Love was cooking together, shopping together, him doing the dishes for her after she made a big meal. Love was wanting to do things for each other with no promise of—or need for—anything in return.

All the time she’d been living with them, all the time she’d been spending with Marc, she’d thought she was having fun. But really…she’d been falling in love with him. And she’d screwed up and hurt him and lost him because she was too scared to admit that.

She was making a complete fool of herself.

Deep breath.

Lovey sat in the stands, row one, at the end of the rink where the Aces warmed up. At the other end, the Montreal Canadiens skated. Linkin Park blasted over the sound system for the warm-up.

She clutched the rolled-up cylinder of bristol board in her hands. Waiting. There was Marc. Helmet-less, as usual in the warm-up. He stood at the blue line on the opposite side of the ice, talking to another player, then with a fast push he was off, skating. Flying, really, around behind the net, whizzing right past her, oblivious to her presence.

She needed just the right moment. Her heart tapped out a rapid rhythm and her palms dampened the thin cardboard. She wiped one, then the other, on her jeans.

This was crazy. But she was determined.

There he was, skating slower, right toward her. She bit her lip as she quickly unfurled the poster she’d made. Her heart pounded now and her hands shook as she held the edges of the poster and flattened it up on the glass, right in front of her face. She peeked around it.

He saw it. He blinked. He continued to glide toward her.

She stood so he could see her, now trembling all over. His gaze lifted from the poster to her face. He came to a slow stop right in front of her. Some kids who’d lined up against the boards started banging on the glass, calling “Marc! Marc Dupuis! Super Duper!”

Marc’s eyes flicked to them and he flashed a brief smile, but his gaze snapped back to her. She gave him a tentative smile.

He set a gloved hand on the Plexiglas right in front of her. She laid her palm there. The poster curled up, released from her hold.

Their eyes met and held, people and noise all around them, kids banging on the glass, loud music, skates scraping across ice, sticks slapping pucks. It was so
not
romantic.

“Really?” he said.

She nodded.

“Lovey.” He grinned and shook his head. “Now? Really?”

She gave him a shaky smile back.

Some of the other players had noticed and were looking at them. She lifted her chin. “Get back to your warm-up.”

“I’ll find you after the game. Don’t leave the arena.”

She nodded, her heart climbing into her throat and lodging there as she clumsily rolled up the poster and took her seat. The kids and people sitting near her were shooting her curious glances, but Marc distracted them by flicking a couple of pucks over the glass for them to catch and keep. They jumped up and down with excitement.

One little girl in a tiny Aces jersey came up to her. “What does your poster say?”

Lovey sucked in her bottom lip. “I’ll show you.” She unrolled it.

“ ‘I love you, Marc Dupuis,’ ” the little girl read aloud. She lifted her eyes to Lovey. “I love him too!”

Lovey grinned. Her heart expanded fast and hard against her breastbone and she sniffled a little.

“And he talked to you,” the girl said. “I’m gonna make a poster like that next time!”

“You should totally do that.” Lovey nodded seriously.

Now she had to sit through the whole game, nerves twisting inside her, waiting to find out what he thought of her crazy gesture, waiting to find out if he could forgive her, if there was any hope for them.

Marc managed to keep his shit together through the game. It took some determination, but he turned distraction into a positive. Knowing Lovey was there watching made him want to make her proud. He wanted to impress her.

As if it was the first time she’d ever seen him play.

But it was the first time she’d seen him play after telling him she loved him. His chest swelled at that thought but he also had to laugh. Christ! What a way to tell him. And then expect him to focus on hockey.

He’d taken heat in the dressing room after the warm-up, first from Coach, who’d seen him standing at the glass talking to her, then from the guys who’d seen the sign. He didn’t give a shit. They could bug him all they wanted. They didn’t have Lovey holding up a sign that said she loved them.

He skated hard, hit hard, drove hard to the net, scored two goals, and got two assists and they pulled off another fucking win. It was sweeter at home, with the crowd behind them, going crazy. After the game, he skated up to Stoykers and bumped helmets, patted his back, then glided to center ice to circle with other players, sticks in the air, saluting their loyal fans. He found Lovey in the crowd, right up front, her beaming smile as she clapped her hands together reaching out to him like a beacon. He saluted her and then skated off to head to the dressing room.

Pumping music and an electric atmosphere filled the room. He’d never been so motivated to get out of there quickly, but Modi in Communications had lined up two interviews for him with media. Then he had to go up to the suite where the kids from Saint Joseph Hospital were tonight. He huffed out a frustrated breath.

Done with the interviews, he showered, changed into his suit, and pulled out his cellphone. He exchanged a few text messages with Lovey, instructing her to meet him on the Level B concourse. He’d take her to the suite with him. What the hell. She could hang out and see the kids and how special they were. They’d both just have to be patient.

Patient. He could be patient. Although he was all pumped and jumpy with adrenaline, not only from the game but also from Lovey’s appearance with that poster, nearly sending him to his knees on the ice. Which would have been embarrassing.

He hurried through the now nearly empty concourse, skipping the escalator for the stairs, which he took two at time. He saw her standing near an entrance, wearing a black Aces hoodie, skinny jeans, and Converse sneakers, looking almost like one of the kids who’d been banging on the glass during the warm-up. She was still holding the crazy poster, rolled up under her arm.

She saw him approach and took a couple of steps toward him. He nearly ran at her, eating up the floor in long strides. He stopped right in front of her and drank in the sight of her beautiful face, her green-and-gold eyes, golden freckles, pretty mouth, her shimmery red-gold hair hanging in waves around her shoulders. “Fuck, Lovey.”

Then he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her. The poster fell to the floor with a hollow bounce as he crushed her up against him, one hand sliding into her hair and pressing her face against his chest. He breathed in through his nose, eyes closed, working for control. She smelled like cupcakes.

His bathroom had been bare and empty the last few days. No bottles of scented shower gel, no pink shavers and poufy scrubbers. He hated it.

He missed her like hell.

“What happened?” he growled. “Why? Why’d you do that?”

“I’ve been so stupid,” she mumbled into his chest. “I needed some way to really show you…I mean it. In front of fifty thousand people.”

He laughed. “The arena only holds twenty thousand, and it was the warm-up. There weren’t even twenty thousand people there.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

He let her head go and framed her face with both hands. “I love you too.”

Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes got shiny. “Thank God.”

He smiled and rubbed her lip with his thumb. “Were you worried?”

“Yes. I…I hurt you.” She blinked. “Duncan told me you loved me. He said I hurt you. I felt horrible. It hurt me to think about that. And I realized…I love you too. But I wasn’t sure if you’d forgive me.”

“Aw, baby. I’ve been thinking too this week. Thinking that maybe I let you down. Figuring that you’re worth fighting for. Figuring out a way to have another chance with you. To do better.”

“You didn’t let me down.” She frowned. “How could you say that?”

“Can we talk more later? I have a bunch of guests in the suite I need to go say hi to and get some pictures taken with.”

“Oh. Of course!”

“Come with me. It’ll be fun.”

“Is that okay?”

“Sure. It’s my suite.”

He took her hand and led the way. He was pretty sure he’d never done that—held her hand. It was nice.

She rocked in the suite with the kids. He knew she would. She smiled and charmed them all, helped with pictures and autographs, heard some of their stories. He always got so much from these times, and he did tonight too, but had to selfishly admit he wanted to be done and out of there so he could be with Lovey. But he saw she was getting something out of it too, and so were the kids. So he could wait.

“We’ll go to your place,” he decreed after. “I want to see it. Plus we’ll have privacy.”

“It’s not anything special. I haven’t had a chance to do much with it, and it’s too crowded with all my furniture.”

“Is there a bed?”

“Um…well, it’s on its side against the wall. I’ve been sleeping on my couch.”

He shot her a horrified look. “That’s no good.”

“We can get the bed down, but there won’t be room to move.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

She gave him directions. He found a parking spot on the street, then set his hand on the small of her back as she led the way into the building and to her third-floor apartment.

He looked around once inside. Duncan hadn’t been lying. It was painfully small. Of course, after his spacious condo, anything would be, but seriously…a studio? It didn’t even have a bedroom.

“I’m going to paint this weekend,” she said. “So I haven’t put anything on the walls yet.”

She bit her lip and lowered her chin.

“It’s nice, Lovey. Just small.”

“I’m getting a futon. I picked it out and it’s being delivered this weekend too. I sold the couch. They’re coming to get it tomorrow. But I’m probably going to have to pay someone to take the bed away.”

“We’ll take it back to Army’s place. He can store it in that bedroom for you.”

“Oh. That would be great.”

“I’ll help you tomorrow.”

“Well, I need the bed for one more night after they take the couch.” She sighed. “This has all been a lot of work. But it’s my place. Um. Have a seat.” She gestured to the couch, the mattress wedged on its side against the wall behind it.

He took off his suit jacket and draped it over an armchair and loosened his tie as he sat. As she went to sit, he pulled her onto his lap, tucking her in against him. Perfect. She fit perfect.

“You moved out early.”

“Yeah. I didn’t think I should stay. I’d made such a mess of everything.”

“I told you before, it wasn’t all your fault.”

“It was. Like Duncan said…what Lovey wants, Lovey gets. I didn’t think of the consequences. I just went after what I wanted—which was you—thinking we would just have some fun. I knew you were worried about Duncan finding out, but I did it anyway. And then when it happened, he found out, you guys were fighting and…and hurting each other. I was so afraid I’d wrecked your friendship.”

“Nah. We’re good.”

“I got that from Duncan. Thank God. But he made me think about some things.” She peeked up at him from under her eyelashes. “I heard you talking to Duncan that night. After you fought.”

He frowned. “You did?”

“Yeah. I went to put some clothes on, but I heard you telling him you were serious about me. I stopped outside and eavesdropped. Which I guess is a bad thing to do, but I was…paralyzed. I thought we were fooling around and having fun. I didn’t realize how serious things had gotten. That scared the crap out of me. I’m not ready to settle down.”

“No?” His body tensed. What did that mean, exactly? She was in love with him, but…?

“I mean, I
wasn’t
ready.” Her smile held a hint of uncertainty. “I didn’t think I was. Crap. When Richard told me he wanted to get married and have babies right away, I panicked. No way in hell was I ready for that. The truth is…he was just the wrong guy. Because…not that I’m asking you to marry me, or anything…but I could see myself settling down with you. After I really thought about it. After I was missing you like crazy.”

“Missed you too.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not asking you to marry me either…yet…but I’m kinda glad to hear that.”

She smiled, that luminous, warm smile that melted him every time. “So I was freaked-out, thinking I never should have slept with you, I’d ruined everything. And I had to move out. I’m so sorry, Marc.” She touched his face. “I realized Duncan was right. I do have to grow up. And I guess I am spoiled. I was attracted to you. I wanted you. I wasn’t thinking about your relationship with Duncan.”

“Hey.” His arms tightened around her. “You
are
grown up. And you’re not spoiled. You’ve showed us that with how hard you’ve worked at your business. You don’t manipulate to get your way. You just have this way about you…that makes everyone want to give you whatever you want. I saw it with Army the day you arrived. I’ve seen it with almost everyone you meet. I’ve felt it myself. You’re just…special.”

She blinked at him, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “Oh wow.” She swallowed. “You do love me.”

He grinned. “You didn’t believe me?”

“I did, but…” Her voice choked up. “I was thinking about what love is. And how I could just be myself with you and let you know the real, goofy, messed-up me, and you still liked me. But really, you love me, and that’s even better. I’m babbling like an idiot.”

“No, you’re not.”

She buried her face in the side of his neck, her breathing uneven. He could tell she was fighting tears. “Marc,” she whispered. “Oh, Marc.”

He loved the sound of his name on her lips, the brush of her warm breath on his skin. He kissed the top of her head, his lips pressing against her silky hair, his arms tightening around her. Her arms came up and slid around his neck.

“When you left, it hurt even more than when Marissa dumped me,” he said quietly. “But when I thought about it, how she broke up with me because I wasn’t romantic enough, I realized it was true. I’m not. Why would you have thought I wanted more than just hot, secret sex? I never even took you on a date.”

Her head whipped up to stare at him. “You thought I was the same as Marissa? Because let me just tell you this—”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant.”

“She was a stupid bitch to break up with you,” she continued heatedly. “Although, I’m glad she did.” Her frown turned into a smile.