On the Fly (Crimson Romance) (28 page)

“Phlynn wants to play. In fact, I just came from the locker room, and I’m pretty sure that’s his intention.”

“Like hell it is. The punch he took in the last game
knocked him out
. I don’t care if the doctor cleared him under duress. He could be seriously hurt if he played tonight, and he knows that. We’ve been through it.”

Madden’s eyebrows tilted up, his mouth a pursed line of amusement. “What in your year’s experience makes you think that
any
of that conversation stuck? This is the
Cup Finals.
No hockey player who could still stand would miss this game.”

“Yeah, well I’m the owner, and what I say goes.”

Madden snorted, and Jacey stood with her hands on her hips. A beat of silence passed. “You don’t really think he’s going to try to play tonight … ?”

Madden’s expression turned pitying, and Jacey took off at a jog toward the elevators. He trailed after her. “Jace, listen. If he thinks he can play, maybe he should. He
was
officially cleared.”

She stomped into the elevator and hit the basement button.

Madden slid in just before the doors closed. “If you go in there swinging, there’s no way you’ll talk him out of it.”

“Uh huh.” What was it with hockey players? Big, macho idiots thought they were invincible. Broken nose? No problem. Concussion? Minor setback. Sprained limb? Hey, if it’s not snapped in half, it’s not an injury.

“Are you listening?”

“Yep.” What would it take to convince Carter that he was not, in fact, immortal?

When the doors slid open, she strode down the hallway to the locker room, the sharp clicking of her heels echoing off the walls. She pushed open the door, and every player’s head turned her way. A couple of good-hearted, “Hey, boss’s” floated around, but as soon as they saw her expression, the room went quiet.

“Good luck. Now get out there.”

If they had any problem with her shortened speech, they hid it well. The guys filed down the corridor to the rink as fast as their blade-clad feet could carry them. All except Carter, who calmly raised one boot onto the bench and proceeded to tape his leg pads.

She strode over to him, hands fisted, chin high. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I
think
I’m suiting up for the game.”

“The game you’re not going to play in.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept taping. Madden, who had hung back in the shadows, lowered his head and slunk toward the tunnel.

“We decided that it was a risk not worth taking, remember?”

“
You
decided.”

“This is crazy. You can’t put yourself at risk for a game, Carter. Your health is more important.”

“Not to me.”

“Well it is to m — ” She stopped and looked away. The stress and pressure and insanity that had built up threatened to burst, and she blinked quickly, refusing to break down in front of him.
Because
of him. The taping stopped, and she heard the roll fall to the floor. She could feel his gaze boring into her, but she couldn’t meet it. A calloused fingertip tried to turn her chin, but she jerked away.

“Hey.” The gentleness in his deep voice was what made her finally look at him. She clenched her teeth.
Won’t cry. Won’t.

“This isn’t just because you’re afraid of losing your star player … is it?” It was a statement, not a question. He already knew. She tried to stare him down, but the tenderness, the hope in his face made her look away again.

“You don’t know how scared I was … when you got hit. You weren’t moving. I didn’t know … ”

“I’m fine.” He emphasized both words, and she slid a hand back through her hair with a shaky sigh. He caught her hand before it fell back to her side and squeezed it. “Jace … ”

From the arena, the announcer’s voice trailed back to them. “Ladies and Gentlemen, here are
your
Las Vegas
Sinners
!”

“I have to go.” Carter stuffed his gloves under one arm, picked up his helmet with one hand and his stick with the other. He hesitated. “We
will
talk about this after.”

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. In all fairness, nothing had a chance to, because he leaned forward and kissed her hard. Her head spun, and she gasped when he leaned back. He grinned and walked back a few steps. “Wish me luck.”

But before she could, he turned and ambled down to join his team on the ice. Once he was gone, she closed her eyes, sent up a silent prayer, then walked down the corridor herself to take a seat next to the players’ box. Suddenly, winning didn’t seem so important. She’d be happy if he just made it through the night in one piece.

• • •

Four aspirin didn’t quite take the edge off Carter’s headache, but adrenaline and excitement brought on a rush of endorphins that just about covered it. It had been surprisingly easy to get the doc to believe he was game-ready. When you knew the right answers, the real ones didn’t matter much. All he had to do was get through one night. Then he’d have almost four months to recoup. One night. Easy.

The bright, flashing arena lights made his vision swim, but he tried to blink it off. He’d spent two whole days in his dark bedroom, resting and trying to regain his coordination. Not easy when your brain tells you something is in one place when it’s actually just to the left. He’d have to alter his shot in the game to account for that.

To her credit, Nealy seemed to be making an effort to keep her voice low. She didn’t yell or berate the guys in the locker room. But she looked like she wanted to. She guided him to the far end of the bench in the players’ box and spoke into his ear. “I meant what I said. You may be cleared, and I respect that you want to be here, but you’re mostly for decoration and motivation. It does the rest of the guys good to see you with them. I’ll put you out there a few minutes, tops. I know you’re worse off than you admit.”

He met her steely gaze, and any retort died in his throat. The woman meant business. Crossing her just meant a bigger headache. Instead, he gritted his teeth and watched Dylan Cole take his place as first line center. If someone had to do it, Carter was glad it was the rookie. The kid had chops and more love for the game than most.

The puck dropped, creating a sensory explosion. Players sprinted, turned, weaved, and blocked at high speed. Insults echoed, whistles blew, and when the Sinners scored the first goal, music boomed louder than he’d ever heard it before. The arena went up in screams and applause. Carter squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands around the edge of the bench in an attempt not to vomit.

For the first time, it seemed like going out there might not be possible. But hockey players didn’t quit. Spending most of the first period studying the inside of his eyelids helped, and when the buzzer sounded for intermission, he thought he might fall over in relief. Instead, he swung his legs over the players’ box and glided toward the tunnel with the rest of his team.

As he passed Jacey, her concerned stare tightened his chest. The feeling of her hand in his at the hospital came back to him. The way she stroked his face. They weren’t done. Not by a long shot.

“Phlynn, you all right, man?” Reese lumbered beside him down the tunnel, tapping his chest with a big blocker glove.

“Yeah. Fine. Coach is just waiting to put me in when you guys really get in a hole.”

“Whatever. You think anything’s getting by
me
? You’ll be riding the pine for the rest of the game. And you’re welcome. You don’t look so good.”

“You just focus on that rebound problem, all right?”

“Rebounds, my ass. A puck comes at me, I catch it. No bounces here.” Reese’s pride and swagger usually got on Carter’s nerves, but tonight they made him smile.

“Oh, okay. Let’s see what Coach says.”

Coach had a laundry list of complaints for everyone. Except him. Hard to screw up when you never left the bench. Carter feigned interest, kept up as much eye contact as he could, but it was a relief when they headed back for the ice. Brain trauma, as it turned out, didn’t really allow for attentiveness.

The second period passed in a blur. Nealy put him on ice for maybe thirty seconds but called him off after a pass meant for Collier went to a Devils’ player instead. The mistake cost them a goal. Anxiety arced through Carter, but he played it off and took his spot on the bench. None of the guys said anything. Nealy just gave him a look. By the second buzzer, they were tied at one. They wouldn’t lose because of what he’d done. He’d get back on that ice if it killed him. He had to. One last time.

• • •

Jacey paced the short aisle between the glass and the first row of seats next to the players’ bench. She’d clenched her fists so hard through the first two periods, she had permanent fingernail marks in her palms. On her tenth pass, Madden caught her shoulders and held her still.

“Hey. You’re making
me
nervous. And that’s not easy to do.”

“He shouldn’t be out there at all. What is he
thinking
?”

“He’s thinking it’s the Stanley Cup, the one thing he’s worked his whole life for.”

“But — ”

“Jace.” Madden held up a hand to silence her. “Do not try to logic this. It won’t make sense to you no matter how hard you try.”

That much was undeniable. She just hoped Nealy kept Carter off-ice for the rest of the game. Images of him lying prone on the ice haunted her. She couldn’t bear to see him that way again. Ever.

The third period started with a bang. Three fights in the first five minutes. Both teams were down by a third due to injuries. Jacey was only glad Carter remained on the bench. If the team could hang in there, get that last goal, at least her sacrifice would mean something.

Time raced by even with all the penalties. If someone didn’t score soon, they were headed to overtime, which in the playoffs meant another twenty minutes. Her heart couldn’t take it. Movement on the bench caught her attention. Carter stood, towering over Nealy. The two went back and forth with raised voices and flapping arms. She couldn’t make out the exact words, but she could guess.

Carter straightened, a triumphant smile on his face. Nealy yelled at Cole, who skated off-ice, and Carter glided out.

No.

He squatted for a face-off in the Sinners’ defensive zone, more steady than she’d seen him in days, but it couldn’t last. He’d seemed so fragile just a half hour ago. The ref dropped the puck, and Carter took it lightning fast, passing it behind him to Kevin Scott.

Scott ran with it up ice toward the Devils’ goal, and Carter followed.

Devil defensemen tried to keep up, desperate to stop it.

Scott passed to Carter, who zig-zagged through three Devils behind their net.

The announcer said, “One minute remaining in the third period,” and the crowd went crazy. It was so loud, the sound waves reverberated through her whole body.

Carter made it to the front of the goal and drew back his stick. At the last second, a Devil hooked his ankle and pulled. Even as Carter lost his footing and fell forward, he took the shot.

It felt like an eternity, but the red light went on, the buzzer sounded, and the arena erupted in cheers, applause, and confetti. The announcer yelled, and the only words Jacey made out were, “Sinners Stanley Cup Champions!”

She screamed until her voice cracked, jumping up and down and slapping the glass. Madden picked her up and spun her around. Jacey threw her head back and laughed, genuinely
happy
for the first time in a long time.

The entire Sinners bench rushed the ice, and the players embraced, grinning like little boys. They were careful with Carter but engulfed him just the same, and a second high hit her. The pure joy lighting up his face spread warmth through her chest, and a tear slid down her cheek.

“Hey. None of that.” Madden wiped it away and kissed the top of her head.

Her heart stopped as gentlemen in black suit coats and white gloves set the Stanley Cup on a podium center ice. She’d seen it in person before, but this time
her
name would go on it.

She watched in a delighted daze as her players shook hands with the Devils before taking turns hoisting the Cup. Carter went first. Jacey held her breath, hoping it wouldn’t be too much for him, but if his smile was any indicator, the thirty-five pound trophy felt like a down pillow.

When it was her turn, she took Madden’s hand and followed him down the red carpet. He tilted his head down to her ear. “Dad would be so proud of you.”

“Of us.”

Madden grinned and helped her raise the Cup. She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. Just when she though her arms would give out, a few players took it back and skated around with it while someone handed her a microphone.

She looked out at the sea of happy faces and never felt so proud in her life. “Las Vegas! Thank you so much for your support. Our first season, and we won the Cup!”

The cheering made her ears ring, but she didn’t care anymore. “Let’s hear it for our Sinners!” Jacey rode the wave of jubilant screams. She couldn’t stop smiling if she tried. A large form towered beside her, and when she looked up, Carter’s hazel eyes sparked with mischief. He took the mic.

“I’d like to thank the fans for an incredible season. It’s been my honor and pleasure to play for you, but I’m afraid my latest injury gives me no choice but to step down. I’ve learned a lot in the past year and more in the past few days. I achieved my dream. I’d say nothing could make it better, but there is one thing.” He pivoted to face Jacey, took her hand, and dropped to one knee. The audience went wild.

A million camera lights flashed. Jacey shook. What was he doing? He couldn’t be …

“Jacquelyn Celia Vaughn … I love you. Guess the secret’s out.” He grinned, and laughter bounced around the arena.

Tears fell freely down her face. Still shaking, she held her free hand over her mouth and sniffled. Crazy. He had to be crazy. But she didn’t care.

“I’m retiring from hockey, so I won’t be your player anymore. But I’d like to be your husband. If you’ll have me.”

The rink spun like a Tilt-O-Whirl, but he squeezed her hand, anchoring her to Earth. She laughed and cried with equal force and managed to nod. He stood and pulled her close in one motion. Then his lips met hers, and the fans screamed their approval. Just minutes ago, it seemed like nothing could top upholding her father’s legacy. This trumped it in spades.