Offside (53 page)

Scott snorted, trailing his fingers down her throat before backing away with obvious effort. “So many ways I could misinterpret that. But I’ll be good.” He stood on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets as she settled behind the wheel. As she pulled out, she glanced at her rearview mirror, and spotted him mouthing something like, “I’ll miss you.”

When she got to Dean’s house, she took her phone out of her purse and texted Scott before going inside.

Me: I’ll miss you too.

Scott: You caught that, huh? Have a great night, babe.

Me: I will. And thank you for being there. It really helped.

Scott: I’ll always be there. <3

Me: Awww

Dinner was wonderful, as always. Dean cooked better than any man—or woman—she knew. She felt much better about having shown up late when Casey drew her into the conversation about a prospect she’d heard Landon mention without missing a beat. Becky didn’t know much about the young man, but she shared the little she’d read about in the papers. She glanced over at the door a few times as she polished off her spaghetti, not sure whether or not she should ask why Silver wasn’t with them. Amia was fast asleep in her swing close to where Landon sat at the head of the table. He fussed with her light, pale pink baby blanket a few times, but other than that, ate and spoke with the adults in a relaxed way that told Becky he had gotten comfortable with parenting. He didn’t smother his daughter, but she would know he’d never be far.

Him and Dean. She knows their voices, responds to them. But what about Silver?
Amia didn’t share the same bond with her mother as she did with her fathers. But now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Not in front of Casey.

But soon.

Finally, talk turned to Casey’s birthday. She gave both Landon and Dean level looks, her tone very serious. “I want a hockey theme for my party, but—and you have to promise not to laugh—everything has to be purple.” She pursed her lips and turned to Becky. “Can we do that, Mommy?”

Becky hesitated, glancing over at the men, not sure what to say. She was fairly certain a local party store would carry Dartmouth Cobra-themed party decorations, but in purple? “I’ll see what I can do,
poupée
, but—”

“Consider it done, sweetheart,” Dean said, winking at Casey. “I can make a few calls. Your mother and I will discuss the details.”

God, I love this man!
Becky smiled at Dean and he inclined his head. He was like the older brother she’d always wanted, perfect for Landon, amazing with Amia, with Casey, and always there for her family. He took everything in stride and handled every situation, with the team, and in his personal life, with dignity and compassion. As she helped Casey tie her shoes by the door, she studied him. He was in the dining room, arguing quietly with Landon about the dishes. She ducked her head to hide a smile as he told Landon he didn’t want him putting too much pressure on his leg.

“But you bitch about me not spending enough time with the physical therapist?” Landon snorted. “You cook. I clean. It’s not up for discussion.”

“Really? I beg to differ,” Dean said, taking a pile of plates off the table.

Landon held his hands out for the plates. “Beg all you want. I don’t reward obstinacy.”

Dean’s lips thinned. “Big word, goalie. You sure you know what it means?”

“Yes, you arrogant, stubborn . . .” Landon paused and glanced over at Becky when she cleared her throat. “Damn it, Dean. I can load the dishwasher. And tidy up. Take care of our daughter while I do it. The doctor said she shouldn’t sleep in the swing for too long. And she needs a bath.”

“We’re leaving!” Becky called out, grinning when Casey giggled. “Bye!”

“I’m sorry, Becky.” Dean carefully lifted Amia from her swing without waking her, carrying her over and smiling as Casey rose up on her tiptoes to kiss the top of the baby’s head. “You know how your brother is.”

“I heard that!” Landon rolled his eyes, his lips curving slightly as he glanced up from wiping down the table.

“You were meant to.” Dean kissed Becky’s cheek, then Casey’s. “Be good for Mommy. I love you, sweetie.”

“I love you too, Uncle Dean.” Casey gave him one of her I-mean-business looks. “And you really need to consider going after Richards. It would be a big mistake for you to let another team grab him.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.” Dean looked at Becky. “All this talk of prospects and birthdays—I haven’t had a chance to ask how you’ve been doing. I hope your time away did you some good?”

“Yes and no. But I’ve figured some things out,” Becky said, kissing Amia’s forehead. “And you? Are you doing well?”

“Yes. Silver’s on some new medication that is helping her quite a bit . . . it makes her tired though. She would have come down to see you otherwise.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see her next time.” Becky bit her bottom lip. “Is she seeing someone about . . .”

Dean shook his head. “Not yet. But we’re working on it.”

“All right, well, let me know if I can help.” Becky took Casey’s hand, said her last goodbyes to Dean and her brother, then headed out to her car. She was worried about Silver, but wouldn’t dwell on it. She was in good hands. And she knew Dean wouldn’t hesitate to call if they needed her.

Once they got home, she and Casey did the bedtime routine that hadn’t changed since Casey was an infant. Bath time, PJ’s, then some mother-daughter chat while Becky brushed Casey’s hair—Casey did most of the talking. Becky read Casey’s current favorite book,
Curious George at the Aquarium
, for the umpteenth time. Tucked her in. Sang “
Ah! Vous dirai-je maman
,” as requested. And managed not to cry as she finished the lullaby.

“Daddy wants me to reason, like a grown-up person.”
Why that song of all the ones Becky sang to her? Damn it, her little girl wanted a daddy so badly.

And she didn’t have one. Not really. Patrick hadn’t called since before he’d sent Casey home, and that was just to let her know what time his mother would by flying down with Casey. He ignored Becky’s emails telling him how Casey was doing in school. The most recent ones asking if he could make it for her birthday. But Casey didn’t ask about him anymore—she did speak to her Nanny every weekend though. Which seemed to be enough. For now, at least Casey had two loving uncles to partially fill that role.

Over the next two weeks, Becky spoke with Zach and Scott every night. One morning, she opened the door to her office to find a bouquet of blue hydrangeas. She laughed when she read the card, signed by both men.

I remembered the color! Zach finally took mercy on me and told me the name of the flowers.

Xoxo,

Scott

Every night I think of you, long after I hang up after speaking to you. Things will be okay.

Love,

Zach

Things would be okay. She had to believe it. Her job and Casey kept her busy enough not to worry too much about not spending time with the men, but . . . there was something missing in her life. Moments when she felt like she was standing in a big, empty room alone. Waiting.

She wasn’t even sure what she was waiting for. Maybe just some assurance that the emptiness wouldn’t last for long. That she still had something to give to the two men in her life.

That they still needed her as much as she needed them.

T
he fresh bite of wood stain scented the air as Scott carefully wrapped Casey’s gift in the paper provided by the GM. Richter had stopped by the day before to make sure he’d be at Casey’s party, and Scott had nervously spilled both his intention to bring the gift early and told Richter what the gift was. The man spent a lot of time with Casey, so he’d know if she’d like it.

“She’ll love it, Demyan. It’s . . . you made this yourself?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty good at stuff like this.” Scott shrugged, uncomfortable sharing that little tidbit with the GM, but kinda hoping the man wasn’t about to tell him it was a good thing he could play the game. “I made all my own furniture, but I don’t usually make stuff for other people. It’s just a hobby.”

“Well . . . if you’re not too busy—this can’t take you away from training—”

“It doesn’t,” Scott said quickly.

“Good. Then maybe you could make something like this for Amia? I’d pay you of co—”

Scott shook his head, barely resisting hugging Richter, speaking in a rush. “I’d love to. And you don’t need to pay me. I didn’t get Silver or the baby anything, and it would be awesome to give them something they’ll like. I mean . . . if you like it?”

“Scott.” Dean gave him a hard look. “Know your worth. You’re very talented. You have another twelve years at best in your hockey career. It’s good that you have something you enjoy doing to focus on after.”

“Thank you, Mr. Richter,” Scott said, a little embarrassed by the compliment, not really comfortable talking about life after hockey. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

Richter hesitated by the door. “Scott, I know you and Sahara are not together. The way she looks at Keane . . .” He sighed. “That aside, I’ve seen how you are with Pearce. And the way you watch Becky when she’s rushing around, herding the press. I have to tell you—”

“What, Richter? I’m not seeing how what the three of us do is any of your business.”

“It isn’t. But Landon won’t trust you not to hurt his sister.” Richter’s jaw hardened. “I’m not sure I trust you, but I can deal with my misgivings. Landon has enough stress. I’d simply ask you not to add to it.”

“So no PDA?” Scott’s tone was sharp, but he was done having everyone dictate his life. What more did he have to do? He scoffed as he held his front door open for Richter. “I don’t think Becky’s into making out in the parking lot like teens. But she’s not going to let her little brother tell her who to be with. She’s made that pretty clear.”

Nodding slowly, Richter took his cane from where it rested against the wall by the door. The sky was cloudy. His knee seemed to be bugging him. “Forget that I mentioned it.”

Now Scott felt like an asshole. Richter was just looking out for Bower. They had their own issues. He sighed. “We don’t need to flaunt anything. I’ve got it.”

“Yo, Demmy, you gonna make me load this into your car by myself?”

Carter nudged Scott’s shoulder with a fist, bringing him back to the present. Scott glared at him. “Don’t call me that. I put up with it when you were drunk, but—”

“Ugh, can we not talk about that?” Carter hunched down at one end of the heavy gift. “You don’t bitch when Vanek calls you Demmy.”

“Yeah, well no one bitches when Vanek does anything.” Scott picked up his end. “I’m glad he’s back, you know?”

“I know. But he’s starting to be a pain in the ass.” Carter backed carefully through the open front door, easing into the hall outside Scott’s condo. “I’m glad Tim told us to hit him as hard as we can to make sure he’s ready. Vanek chirps at me one more time about the
one
time I let Chicklet Domme me and I’m gonna do more than nail him into the boards.”

“I hear you.” Scott took a deep breath as they placed the gift on the floor of the elevator, pushing the button for the basement level. “I swear, the kid’s using his mouth to make up for lost time.”

“I’m gonna enjoy watching his Domme put ball stretchers on him at the club this weekend.” Carter winced. “So long as it doesn’t give Seb any ideas.”

“Fuck off. I should tell him you said that.” Scott smirked. Carter was a fucking pain slut. It had freaked him out the first few times he’d seen Ramos use clamps or a riding crop on him, but Carter clearly enjoyed everything the big man did to him. “You so into being shared, maybe Ramos should ask Chicklet—”

“No. I don’t think Jami would be cool with another woman . . . fuck, Demyan, about when I was drunk—”

Oh, hell no.
“Forget it.”

“I can’t.”

“Did you tell, Ramos?”

“Yeah. I woulda anyway, but Pearce made sure I didn’t put it off.” Carter lowered the gift, waiting for Scott to unlock the backseat of his car before lifting it again. For some reason, his face was really red. And not from the weight. “I told Seb . . . fuck, it would be weird if me and you did anything. After Bower, you’re one of my best friends. We’d have some hot, wild fucking sex—”

“Ramos never put speech restrictions on you?” Scott felt himself getting hard. His agent, Zach’s, and Stephan needed to be locked up somewhere for at least an hour so he and Zach could do more than crash at the end of the night. Two weeks without any was killing him. And Carter had a nice ass. Friends or not, he couldn’t take much more of this. “He should.”

“And here I am, baring my soul to you.” Carter shook his head and ducked into the passenger seat. He didn’t speak again until Scott started driving. “Seb and Pearce talked a few times.”

“So?”

“If Pearce . . . if I did a scene with him, would it bother you?”

Scott took a deep breath. The answer should be easy, but it wasn’t. Zach was his and Becky’s. But being a Dom was part of him. Ramos getting him to even consider doing a scene was a good thing. Would it bother him if Zach fucked Carter?

Hell yes.

But the other stuff? He wasn’t sure. Watching Carter suck Zach’s cock would be fucking hot. Seeing Ramos and Zach tie Carter up and torture him a little, not letting him come, touching him and using floggers and stuff on him . . .

I need a bath. Full of ice. Or kill me now.
He cleared his throat. “Naw, I guess it would be okay.”

The last thing Scott wanted to be thinking about when he got to Becky’s place was sex, but his chat with Carter made it hard to think of anything else. And when he tried, all he could think about was whether Zach playing with Ramos and Carter would bother Becky. He carried the gift up to Becky’s porch, set it down, then rang the doorbell.