THIRTY
Live from rock bottom . . .
In the final break of the game—and at the rate he was playing, likely the final break of the season—Vadim sat apart from the rest of the players, elbows on knees, head bent as if he might throw up at any moment. He couldn’t focus. The puck was as small as a pea, and his stick was like a fork trying to chase it around on his dinner plate.
“Petrov.”
He peered up, his vision sharpening to take in an angel in black. Bella.
“Outside. Now.”
Obeying her command, he stood, tethered to her. No one offered commentary or even judgmental glances, not with a two-goal deficit and their dreams on life support.
Outside the locker room, she asked, “How’s the knee?”
Disappointment washed over him. She was here in her capacity as coach.
He answered with a sullen, “Fine.”
“You look tired. Did you take a nap today?”
He had tried, but he found it difficult to sleep when she wasn’t there. He’d become used to her, he supposed.
“If you have no guidance other than to criticize my preparation, then this conversation is over.”
“How’s it going up here, Vadim?” She touched his forehead. “And here?” Her thumb drew a line along his lips. “And here?” Her palm on his chest yielded a jerk from his heart, the foolish lump sensing its owner. What was once intolerable had found a ready, willing acceptance.
“Isobel, what do you want?” The words came out rough.
Her hand remained, splayed flat against his thumping heart. “You came to see me in Buffalo. Not just to the game, but at the hospital.”
“Of course I did.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Was she serious? “Why would I not want to see history being made by the girl who set the ice on fire and my heart with it all those years ago? And it would have taken a team made up of every defenseman in the NHL to keep me away from your bedside.”
“I didn’t know you were there.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought you saw it on TV with everyone else. Later. I—I didn’t know.”
He cupped her cheek and leaned in close. “When you were cut down, my heart was cut down with you. At the hospital, I could barely speak English. Or Russian. The staff thought I was crazy, but they also knew who I was.”
“Buffalo,” she said on a sniff. “Big hockey town.”
“Yes it is. They let me sit with you when I said I was your boyfriend. But your father returned and wouldn’t hear of it. I knew that a public fight would get in the news, impede your recovery, so I stayed away, and then—” He shook his head. “It seemed better to watch over you from afar. You would have more chances to play, and I didn’t want to distract you from your journey. This craving you have to excel. Deep down, I knew I had never meant as much to you as you meant to me.”
Her career would always come first, even at the expense of his heart.
“Vadim, you’re the best kind of distraction.”
“Just a distraction, Bella?”
“No!” Eyes wild, she fisted his jersey. “What you did, talking to Lindhoff, I understand it was because you care about me. I hate it, but I understand.”
“Not just care, Bella. Ya ne mogu zhit’ bez tebya. That means ‘I cannot live without you.’ It took me a while to admit this to myself, but this amazing girl caught me all those years ago and I burn for her. Only her.”
He raised his jersey and placed her hand over his favorite tattoo, the one of the skates in flames. “Devushka s goryshimi konkami. This ink was for you.”
“This tattoo? It’s—oh! The Girl with the Blazing Skates.” She bit her lip, suddenly bashful. “That’s me.”
“I kept you here, all these years.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, tears welling like diamond drops on her lashes. She opened them again. “Vadim, I’ve been feeling so lost. You know that. And I wasn’t sure if I was using you as an anchor while I tried to right the ship or if this ship couldn’t sail without you. I’m sorry about how I reacted. I needed someone to blame, to lash out at.”
He brushed his lips across her forehead. “I can take anything you give me. We Russians are used to suffering.”
“But you really shouldn’t have to put up with my drama. It’s so hard for me to admit I need you. Need anyone. I want to be the woman you deserve, but I also want to be the woman I deserve.”
When would she realize her worth to him? Her worth to herself? Apparently he would have to spend the rest of his life showing her.
“Bella, they are one and the same. I will not be satisfied with a woman who has no dreams or ambitions. My woman is the North Star in my night sky, but also in her own. If she is not there to guide me, there is only darkness. For us both.” He searched her face. “Talking to your coach, going behind your back, I know it was not the best way to handle it. This is not how we should resolve our problems. It was a decision made out of desperation, but also out of self-preservation. Without you, I am nothing.”
“Oh, Vadim, you crazy Russian.”
He smiled, sensing they were finally skating in sync at last. “Am I forgiven?”
“Sort of.”
Perhaps not. “Sort of?”
“Well, you see, we have a problem.” She pointed toward the arena. “Out there. We’re two goals down, heading into the final period, and if we don’t win, our season is over.”
“I recognize this problem.”
“Actually, there’s a bit more to it than that. You see, if we don’t make the play-offs, the team’s going to be sold off. That’s how my father set up his will.”
She chose to share this information now? And people considered him dramatic!
“So there’s a lot riding on this next twenty minutes.” She peered up at him. “Probably shouldn’t have told you that, should I?”
“It is an unusual coaching strategy, I admit.”
The sound of voices rose. The players were about to leave the locker room.
“But here’s the thing, Vad. I actually don’t care about any of that. Sure, I’d like to get to the play-offs and hold on to ownership of the team, more for Harper, because this means everything to her. But if we don’t, you’re going to have other chances, either with the Rebels’ new owners or with whomever you play with next, because you’re too good not to lay your hands on that hardware. And on top of that, I can survive it because when the game is over and the interviews are done and the only sound on the rink is the Zamboni starting up, I’ll have you. Wherever you are.”
Remy emerged from the locker room, closely followed by Callaghan, Burnett, and the rest of the crew.
She tightened her grip on his jersey, pulling him close. “I will have you, won’t I?”
“Past, present, future, Bella, I am yours. That will never change. I love you.”
“Nice work, Petrov,” Remy said with a wicked grin as he dropped Vadim’s helmet, gloves, and stick at his feet. “But don’t get cocky. Night’s not over yet.”
Isobel threw her arms around Vadim’s neck and inhaled him.
“Ty pakhnesh’, kak zaplesnevelyy syr,” she whispered in his ear.
The rest of the team trooped by with stupid grins cracking their stupid faces, all except an unsmiling St. James, who took up the rear and nodded at Isobel. “Coach.”
She nodded back. “Cap.” Then she turned to Vadim once more and repeated what she had just said. A very odd response to telling a woman you loved her.
“I have been working hard, Bella, so I know I am not as fragrant as I could be.”
Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You just told me that I smell like moldy cheese. Is this another of your unconventional coaching tactics?”
Her growl was so sexy. “Fucking Alexei, he’s always hated me. I called him to get the correct pronunciation. You know he’s dating your mom, right?”
Laughing, he kissed her hard and long, this woman who made him a man, and now the happiest person on the planet.
This woman who would make him a champion.
“My English is better than your Russian. Tell me what you meant to say.”
“I love you,” she said, her mouth in a beautiful curve.
That smile gave him life. “Again.”
“I love you, Vadim Petrov.”
“And if I lose tonight?”
A roar went up from the crowd. The last period was beginning. “I’ll still love you. But I’ll probably love you more if you win.”
“Then I will win.” And with his coach’s rousing words echoing in his heart, he put on his helmet and headed out to do what needed to be done.