Chapter 19—Square to the Puck

Dejectedly, Brick slumped in front of his locker after an especially brutal loss to the Penguins in the fifth game of a grueling eight-game, two-week road trip. They’d lost five to two, and Coach had benched him halfway through the second period. He’d been playing like shit on this road trip, but his defensemen had risen to the challenge and done everything but stand in the net for him. Even so, they’d won three and lost two, no thanks to Brick.

The coach’s rah-rah speech didn’t register in his muddled brain. He rubbed his breastbone. His chest ached like a motherfucker. He must be getting the flu.

Coop spoke next. He wasn’t nearly as nice as Coach. “We played like a bunch of pansy-assed ladies at a tea party. Get your fucking heads out of your asses, and be the contenders we all know we are. Myself included. I’m not bringing my A game, either. But I will be. Rising up from defeat separates the men from the ladies. We’re all men here, aren’t we?”

Shouts of agreement rang around the room as guys stripped off their sweaty uniforms. Brick wiped his face with a towel and stared at his helmet. He’d been contemplating putting Macy’s name on one side like a lot of the other fathers did on the team. His shoulders slumped. She was gone, and he’d let her go. He’d let them both get away. The few times he’d talked to Macy, she’d been hurt and uncommunicative. The last time, she’d refused to speak to him at all.

It’d been two weeks since he’d lost the two women in his life, leaving him live the way he’d wanted. Only he wasn’t living it. After away games, he was sitting in his hotel room staring at four walls, watching reality TV, and sipping ice water.

A shadow blocked out most of the light in the room, and he glanced up wearily, expecting to see Rush with some kind of harebrained idea to torture the rookie or cheat at poker once they boarded the plane to Detroit. Instead, Coop, Smooth, and Ice stared down at him, wearing matching expressions of concern and irritation. At the next stall over, Matt watched with detached interest, like a rubbernecker driving past a car wreck.

Brick met each pair of steely eyes, feeling as though he was in a shoot-out and severely outnumbered. Revealing any weakness around these three would be detrimental to his health and his hockey career.

“You’re playing like shit.” Never one to mince words, Ice jabbed his finger in Brick’s face.

“Tell me about it.” Brick decided the best defense was to not get defensive. He sighed and swiped the towel across his face again. “I really need a shower.” He started to get up, but Coop’s firm hands on his shoulders pushed him back down.

“It’s not like we don’t know what’s wrong with you. You aren’t fooling anyone, least of all us.” Smooth’s knowing smirk pissed Brick off. After all, they’d been former party buddies, with Smooth leading the way for the younger guys. Now that he was wearing the old ball and chain, he acted as if he had all the answers.

“So what’s wrong with me?” Brick countered in a surly tone, poking the three bears and certain he’d not get out of this confrontation with his balls intact.

“My God, you idiot. Do we have to spell it out for you?” Coop snorted with absolute disdain. His two cohorts nodded their agreement.

“I guess you do. What can I say, I’m a moron and proud of it.”

“You’re lovesick.” Coop propped his hands on his hips and glared at Brick, daring him to deny what Coop saw as the truth.

Brick narrowed his gaze and glared right back. “What the fuck did you say? I am not fucking lovesick over anyone.” He tried to get up again, but Smooth and Ice flanked him and placed firm hands on his shoulders.

“We were like you once. This’ll be less painful if you admit you were a dumbass and beg forgiveness.” Ice looked to his partners in crime for affirmation.

“Whose forgiveness?” Brick played dumb, but they all knew the truth.

“Amelia’s and Macy’s.” Smooth’s voice grated with rare agitation. The guy rarely got riled.

“If you won’t do it for yourself because you’re too stubborn or stupid to see the light, at least do it for them and for the team. We need you at one hundred percent, Brick.” With Coop it always came back to the team. That’s why he was captain.

“Swallow your pride. Do some groveling and get them back.” Ice squeezed his shoulder so hard it hurt like a motherfucker, but Brick showed no outward signs of pain.

“He’s too stupid to see how miserable he is,” Smooth said.

“I’d do anything to have a good woman at my side, one who could love my children as her own, and you’re throwing it away.” From the bench, Matt added his two cents, drawing a scowl from Brick.

“He hasn’t sunk low enough yet, boys,” Coop added.

“But he will,” Ice said.

“You can lead a horse to water…” said Smooth.

Then as a unit, the three of them marched off and left him to his thoughts. Feeling Matt’s eyes on him, Brick reluctantly turned his attention to him. “I suppose you have more to say.”

Matt shrugged. “Nope, they’ve said it all, but the longer you stay away the less likely Amelia is to forgive you and give you another chance. Not sure about Macy, but you haven’t won many points there either, as far as I can tell.”

Brick lowered his voice. “Macy won’t talk to me anymore when I call.”

“There you go.”

“How is Amelia?”

Matt, the rat bastard, had hired Amelia as a nanny within twenty-four hours of her leaving Brick. “She’s good. She loves the boys, and they love her, but I think she misses you. God knows why— you’re such an asshole—but there’s no accounting for taste.”

Matt stood and headed for the showers, leaving Brick with only his sorrow and his conscience for company, and shitty company, at that.

 

* * * *

 

Brick grabbed Rush and together they walked to a neighborhood bar and tied one on, like the old days. Women came out of the woodwork, hanging on both men. Rush ate it up; Brick hated it.

They’d returned earlier from their two-week road trip, and Brick managed to pull his head out of his ass enough to prevent any more losses, though he attributed their wins more to the superior play of their defensemen than to him. But he’d avoided any major mistakes, and considering his current state of mind, he’d take that as a win.

Sensing Brick needed space and didn’t need female company, Rush managed to send the women packing, except for a pair of pushy females. Eventually, the hard-assed female bartender forcibly removed them.

“I didn’t think we’d be bothered much in a place like this.”

“Ve’re bothered everywhere.” Rush grinned. “Ve are that gorgeous.”

Brick rolled his eyes. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Of vhat?”

“The endless parade of women. Never getting to really know any of them. And never finding one who likes you for you instead of your fame and money.”

“I not care vhy they like me as long as they get naked.”

That would’ve been Brick’s answer a few short months ago.

Rush narrowed his gaze and studied Brick as best he could, considering he was having a hard time focusing. “You miss her.”

“Fuck no,” Brick lied.

“You idyot. You miss her.”

“I don’t.”

“Then vhy you not flirt with sexy women?”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Since vhen?” Rush could be a stubborn bastard when he grabbed hold of something. He wasn’t going to let this go until he got a satisfactory answer, despite how drunk he was.

“You miss her,” Rush insisted.

Brick shrugged.

“Then vhy not go after her?”

“She won’t take me back now. I’m a bastard. They’re both better off without me.”

“Shouldn’t you let them make that decision?”

Brick frowned and rubbed the short beard on his chin. He took another swig of his beer, but the stuff tasted flat. Grumpy as hell, he slammed the glass on the table a little too hard.

The waitress hustled over. “Is everything okay, Brick?”

He mustered a smile for her. His bad mood wasn’t her fault. “Yeah, great, sorry.”

“Can I get you something else to drink?”

“Nah, I’ve had enough. So has my buddy here.”

Rush scowled at him. Brick just shrugged.

“You not my mother.”

“I fucking hope not.” Brick barked out a harsh laugh and rubbed his forehead. He didn’t feel so great.

Rush stood, still pissed, and grabbed his beer. “Later. You’re boring.” Without another word, Rush joined a group of ladies who’d been giving him the eye. One of them, a stacked redhead, crooked her finger at Brick. He shook his head. She stuck out her lower lip and pouted. Rush said something to her. She cast one more longing look in Brick’s direction and turned her back on him.

He sighed, debated on which was lonelier—going home to an empty house or sitting in this bar by himself, alone in a sea of bodies and nameless faces. He’d have never given it a thought a few months ago. He’d be assessing his choices for the evening, trying to determine his mood and which female or females would satisfy his appetite.

Tonight, his usually hearty sexual appetite refused to emerge, not even for the various delectable morsels who’d been eyeing him with obvious carnal intent. Every time a particular woman caught his eye all he could see were Amelia’s big blue eyes staring back, accusing him of being a coward.

He wasn’t a coward. It took balls to do the right thing.

Didn’t it?

His head pounded to the beat of the music, chanting the same message over and over:

You didn’t do the right thing. You didn’t do the right thing. You didn’t do the right thing.

He needed space. Standing, he walked to the door and tossed a hundred at the waitress on his way out.

A misty rain hung over everything, enveloping the nearby buildings in a gloom that matched his mood. He walked aimlessly down a couple streets to the waterfront. His legs carried him to the end of one of the docks. The rain fell harder, running down his back and plastering his shirt to his body. He stared at the empty, darkened houseboat—the one he’d secretly bought right after he’d seen it with Macy and Amelia. He’d planned on surprising them. Now it sat empty, a testament to his stupidity and stubborn pride.

Fishing his keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door and entered. The place smelled musty, unlived-in, unloved. Not bothering with the lights, he shuffled around the empty rooms, imagining them as they could be instead as they were.

He came to a standstill in the living room. Macy’s beloved horse barn and dollhouse occupied a corner. He’d had them moved over here after the house had closed. He couldn’t bear looking at them every day. He should’ve shipped them to Vancouver, but something held him back.

Hope?

He sighed.

Finding a lone folding chair, he pulled it outside to the covered porch and lowered his big body into it. Even though he was protected from the rain, his eyes brimmed with moisture. He swiped at his face with the back of his hand. The liquid streaming down his cheeks wasn’t cold, like raindrops, but warm like tears.

He was an idiot. He let the two best things that’d ever happened to him get away. He’d let those negative voices from the past infiltrate his brain until he believed them, became them, and given the chance to break the mold, he’d refused. And for what reason?

He didn’t want his old life back. He wanted his new one. The one he’d been building.

And he wanted Amelia and Macy.

With the swiftness of a summer lightning strike, the truth hit him. He slipped from the chair onto his knees and covered his face with his hands as shuddering sobs shook his body.

He loved them. He loved his daughter and he loved Amelia.

His life was nothing without them. They were his family. He needed them, and they needed him. He lifted his head. The rain had stopped, and a brilliant moon peeked through the clouds. A slow smile erased the lines of sorrow.

Brick shot to his feet, the determination of a professional athlete replacing the despair of a few moments ago. He would fight to win, because losing was not an option.

He was going to get them back.

 

* * * *

 

Amelia adored Joey and Andy, Matt’s two boys, but she missed Macy. That little girl had drilled a hole in her heart and filled it with love. But now the hole was empty, and so was Amelia.

She rolled a puzzle piece around in her hand as she tried to figure where it would go. The boys didn’t take that kind of time. They tried their pieces everywhere.

“That doesn’t go there,” Joey, the oldest, gloated with superiority and removed the piece.

“Yes, it does.” Andy snatched it from Joey’s hand, and the arguing rose a decibel.

Amelia sighed. “That’s enough.” She took the piece, turned it over in her hand, and compared it with the available spots.

Both boys rolled their eyes.

“You take too long,” said Andy.

“She does,” agreed Joey.

Amelia grinned, and they returned to hunting for the next piece.

She directed her attention to the kitchen, where another argument had begun between the adults in the house. Or so they were supposed to be adults. She wasn’t so sure about that. Vi and Matt had developed an odd love-hate relationship Amelia didn’t bother to dissect. Vi loved to debate anything and everything, and Matt couldn’t seem to let well enough alone. She could only conclude they were enjoying themselves at some level—whatever that level might be.

She’d started working for Matt a few days after she moved out of Brick’s condo. He’d called her and asked her if she’d like another nanny job. Since both boys were in school during the day, she had the flexibility to go to her classes.

She’d been on the job for a few short weeks. The rambunctious boys took her mind off her losses, and Matt was the perfect gentleman.

Right now Amelia was nursing a broken heart and had sworn off men for the foreseeable future. When she’d first moved out, Brick called multiple times; this past week, nothing. She couldn’t blame him for giving up, since she hadn’t answered one call. He’d probably slid back into his old life and forgotten all about her.

Amelia shook off thoughts of Brick and decided wine would help her feeling of melancholy. Wine healed all, at least for a moment. She paused, puzzled, and listened. The arguing in the kitchen had faded. In fact, she didn’t hear a thing. Knowing Vi, she’d gotten pissed and stomped out.

Amelia looked around the corner into the kitchen and sucked in a shocked breath, holding it. Vi had Matt in a lip-lock, and he wasn’t complaining. Her fingers were buried in his hair, and his hands were clutching her ass.

Amelia retreated before they saw her and returned to the boys. They glanced up at her briefly and continued with their mission to find the aft end of the starship.

Vi and Matt?

But they hated each other.

Obviously not.

Then again, it was probably just sex. Vi was going through a dry spell, and Matt’s mother had been living with him. That didn’t exactly encourage much of a love life. The two of them were merely horny and reacting to some volatile chemistry.

Amelia stepped outside onto Matt’s wide front porch and listened to the rain pattering on the roof. She leaned on the railing and stared at the large cedar tree in his expansive front yard. Her chest constricted, causing her heart to ache and breathing to be difficult. She forced air into her lungs.

In. Out. In. Out.

But nothing helped the gut-wrenching pain of loss. Nothing filled the gaping empty spots. Nothing healed the weary loneliness. Loneliness had always been numbing, but this wasn’t. It was far worse. Numbness wasn’t painful. What she was feeling was fucking painful.

The emptiness throbbed through her bloodstream, exhausting her, paralyzing her. It dragged her down, attempting to pull her into a dark abyss.

She buried her face in her hands, calling forth an inner strength. She would get through this. She would survive and be tougher for it.

Brick didn’t want her. She couldn’t do anything about that. And Macy wasn’t hers to want.

She had to move on and learn her lesson once and for all.

Stay away from men with good looks and big egos.