Chapter 14

Things had changed between her and Nick, after some non-PIV sex.

It was still sex, by her definition, anyway, and damn, she wanted more.

Nick couldn’t keep up the grouchy act after that. Okay, she didn’t really believe he was acting, but she also didn’t believe he hated people as much as he said, which she’d told him. And he’d admitted he didn’t object to having friends.

Were they friends now?

He’d gone home to his place that night because she was careful about having men stay over with Zyana around. But even though Jodie knew he’d enjoyed their, um, interludes, and even though he’d kissed her good night when he left, she was unsure of what exactly was next.

After a breakfast of the cereal and milk Nick had brought over, she did some activities with Zyana. The sun was out again, blinding bright with all the snow, which was quickly softening and shrinking, so after lunch she bundled Zyana up for a trip to the park. They came home wet and cold and pleasantly tired from all the fresh air, which made putting Zyana down for a nap easy.

Now she could get some work done. She and Kendra chatted online about some business things they’d been planning to work on today, and she accomplished quite a bit.

Hey before I sign off I need to ask you something.

Huh. Jodie raised her eyebrows at Kendra’s message, then typed back, Sure.

Max’s friend Cam Brickley wants to ask you out. He asked me if I’d give him your number.

Jodie’s eyes flew open wide. She stared at the computer for a moment.

Because she hadn’t answered, another message from Kendra appeared. You met him at Max’s birthday party…remember?

She did remember. They’d flirted a little, and he had seemed interested, but she’d kind of forgotten about it. He seemed like a nice guy…attractive. Around her age.

I told him I’d ask you first before I give your number out.

A moment passed.

Are you there?

She bit her lip. I’m here. Thinking about it.

She enjoyed dating and had gone out with a number of men in New York. It wasn’t that she was hoping for some kind of forever relationship; she just liked meeting people and socializing. So why not go out with Cam?

Why did she keep thinking about Nick?

Sure, I guess you can give him my number. Even though she was markedly unenthusiastic about actually going out with him. What was that about?

Okay, I will. Cool! Max says he’s kind of cocky but basically a good guy.

Alright then.

She was about to close up her laptop and go wake Zyana when there was a knock at the door.

Her heart bumped at seeing Nick outside, the sun gleaming on his dark hair. He was wearing another thick plaid shirt over a T-shirt and jeans, and work boots.

She opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He stepped inside.

Their eyes met, and she tingled inside. For a few seconds, neither of them said anything, wrapped in a web of mutual attraction and uncertainty.

“I came to ask you and Zyana to dinner at my place.”

Her heart knocking, she nodded slowly. “Thank you. I’ve got frozen peas and peanut butter.”

He cocked his head. “Might be good.”

“Blegh.”

His lips quirked. “Where’s the munchkin?”

“Napping. I was about to wake her up.” She gestured at the computer. “I was getting some work done.”

“Ah. It’s good you can do that.”

“Yeah. Technology is great.”

They still regarded each other, the air crackling.

“Are we just going to act like nothing happened?” Jodie asked.

He dropped his head forward briefly. “Works for me.”

She laughed.

“Seriously, not sure what to say,” he added.

“Actually, I’m not either,” she admitted. “So maybe that is the best approach.”

“Until it happens again.”

She eyed him. “It could happen. Although I’m sure you realize that my life is a little complicated.”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Okay then. I guess we’re on the same page. Sort of.”

“Come over around five.”

“Okay. Thanks again.”

---

After dinner at his place, Jodie didn’t see Nick for a few days. Friday, the city was getting back to normal, and Nick had flown to Calgary for the Sunday game. Sunday afternoon, Kendra came to take Zyana out shopping and for ice cream, so Jodie had some time to herself.

Of course, she thought of Nick.

The team had gotten home late last night, as in, early this morning. She knew this from Kendra, who’d told her Max would probably get home around three A.M. Was Nick still sleeping? She hadn’t seen or heard anything from the house. It was a shame to waste adult alone time…

So she grabbed a jacket and threw it on over her jeans and long-sleeved tee. She paused, then ran upstairs to grab a couple of condoms from her dresser. Maybe she was being overly hopeful, but it was good to be prepared.

Outside, the snow was amazingly half gone, only places where it had drifted super high or in the shade remaining. After one last outburst, Mother Nature had decided it was time for spring in Chicago.

She rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing.

Huh. Maybe he wasn’t even home. She hadn’t heard any noise from the garage, but maybe he was working there, refinishing his antiques. She was just turning away when Nick appeared at the door.

He slowly unlocked and opened the door as if reluctant to see her. Her stomach tensed, readying for rejection. But they were at least friends, right?

“Hey.” His voice rasped. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Just thought I’d pop over and say hi. Kendra took Zyana out for the afternoon, so I’m…on my own.”

His eyes flickered, but he rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. “Oh.”

He hadn’t shaved, and his jaw was scruffy. She now took in his messy hair and slightly red eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

She tipped her head, frowning. “You don’t look okay. Are you sick?”

“No.”

Alcohol fumes reached her nose, and she wrinkled it. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yeah.”

She blinked. It was two in the afternoon. “Um. Okay then. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine.” His snappy tone made her jerk back. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Sorry. This isn’t a good time, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I said I just came to say hi. Look, we’ve gone past being landlord and tenant. Whatever happened between us though, we’re at least friends. Something’s wrong.”

“It’s none of your business.”

That felt like a slap in the face. “I guess that’s true.” She lifted her chin and turned stiffly to leave.

“Wait.” He sighed again.

She turned to eye him.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Come in.”

She followed him into the kitchen where he picked up a glass of amber liquid and tossed it back. He reached for the bottle. “Want some tequila?”

“Uh…not a fan of tequila. Maybe you’ve had enough?” He gave her a narrow-eyed sideways look, and she held up her hands. “Sorry. Not my business.”

He poured more tequila into the glass, picked it up and drank. “You sure you don’t want some? This is good tequila. Gran Patrón Piedra.”

“That means nothing to me. But what the hell, I’ll try it.” She advanced closer. “No salt or limes?”

“Not with this.” He found another glass and poured her a little. “This is sipping tequila. Not shooting tequila.”

She sniffed and sipped, then wrinkled her nose again. “Okay, if you say so.” It was potent and warmed her chest all the way down to her belly.

“You might as well come upstairs. I’ve been watching movies.”

“Oh.” She followed him up to the family room where they’d had their sleepover. “What are you watching?”

“The Big Lebowski.”

“Hmmm.” He’d apparently paused it to come answer the door.

He sprawled on the couch. His loose black sweatpants rode low on his lean hips, a slash of skin revealed beneath the hem of his thick hoodie. Her eyes were drawn to the narrow strip of hair on his belly trailing down into the pants…and the thick bulge the pants revealed. She swallowed.

Even a mess, he was annoyingly attractive.

She sat too, curling one leg under her. “Sorry to interrupt your movie.”

He just nodded, his lips in a glum line, his eyes a little unfocused.

Worry gripped her insides and squeezed. He was normally taciturn, but this…was different.

“We watched the game last night,” she said. “Well, Zyana only watched the first period. She was so excited to see you and Max on TV.”

He grunted.

“Congrats on the win.”

“Thanks. Hard game.” He tipped his head back.

“Did you get hurt?” She was still trying to figure out what was going on with him, but she didn’t remember anything particular that happened in the game.

“Nah.”

“You even scored a goal.”

“Yeah.” He lifted the glass. “Yay me.”

She bit her lip, almost ready to cry at his demeanor. “Nick. Tell me what’s wrong.”

It took him so long to answer she thought he was ignoring her. Then he said, “Today’s the anniversary of my brother’s death.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry.” She shifted closer to lay her hand on his thigh and gently squeeze. Her mind raced with questions and possible answers. “When did he die?”

“Three years ago.”

“Oh.” Her heart constricted. “That’s not that long ago.”

“No. It’s not long. I still miss him.”

She squeezed his massive thigh again. “I’m sure you do.” She gave him space, resisting the urge to bombard him with questions.

“We were brothers. Family. But he was my best friend too. Our parents weren’t exactly good providers, so we looked after each other. Our whole lives.”

“Was he younger?”

“Yeah. Two years.”

Somehow she’d guessed that. And she also guessed that although they looked after each other, Nick looked after his little brother even more.

With emotion swelling in her chest, she moved closer still to Nick and laid her cheek on his shoulder. She had no idea if he’d keep talking, but at least she could show her sympathy.

“He was a way better hockey player than I am.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t know if it was true or if it was Nick being self-deprecating, but silence seemed to be encouraging him.

“Way better.” Nick sipped more tequila. “I barely made it into the NHL. He was a first-round draft pick. Late, but still first round. He had the talent. I just worked hard.”

“There’s a lot to be said for hard work,” she replied softly. “And besides, I think you have to have a lot of talent too.”

“He played for the Aces also.”

When he fell silent, she whispered, “What happened?”

Another pause, another sip of tequila. “He’d had a bunch of concussions. Starting in junior hockey.”

Her insides cramped up and her breath stuck in her throat, listening.

“He had a lot of anger in him. Growing up in the kind of environment we did, lots of kids were angry. They took it out fighting. Aleks liked to fight.” He sighed. “We were both big for our age, and strong. We had to be tough to survive in our world. Aleks rarely lost a fight, but if he did, I’d go after the guy. I didn’t really like fighting, but I could do it, especially if it meant protecting my brother.”

“I knew that about you,” she said quietly.

“After I went away to college, Aleks had a rough time. He felt like…I’d abandoned him. I didn’t realize it. I was all wrapped up in my own world, big man on campus, so happy to be out of the hellhole where we lived.”

He stopped talking, but she waited.

“After I left, Aleks quit hockey. I came home once and kicked his ass, and he started playing again. He was determined to prove something…because I’d gotten a scholarship, and because we came from such a shitty background. He was hungry and desperate, and he was always the one who fought.”

“Ugh. I don’t like the fighting.”

He gave a barely perceptible nod. “He’d been hit in the head so many times, had a bunch of concussions. Not just from fighting, but mostly. And then our parents died.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “A few months after Aleks got drafted. We both got drafted by the same team, a couple of years apart, which was amazing and cool. We went from the high of him being drafted and a whole new future for our family to him being down in the dumps. He took a hard hit and got another concussion, and this time it didn’t get better. The symptoms lingered for months…headaches, dizziness, fatigue. He couldn’t play for a long time, and it really got to him.” He looked down at his tequila. “I was glad we were playing for the same team, so I could keep an eye on him.”

She nodded, again not surprised by this, from what she knew of Nick.

“He had ups and downs, but the downs were so bad I got scared sometimes. Sometimes I was terrified because I didn’t know what to do, other than tell him I was there for him. This went on for years. I tried to convince him to get some professional help, but of course, big, tough, proud hockey player—he wouldn’t. We’re men…we’re supposed to be strong and handle our own problems. Even now, there’s still a stigma about mental health issues, although I’ve been working on that.”

Her imagination and intuition filled in some of the blanks of his story…how hard it must have been for him, trying to maintain his own demanding hockey career while desperately trying to help his little brother.

“He got back to playing, but he was still depressed. I talked to our coach and told him what was going on, and everyone on the team was really good. They were there for him. There were times he’d go off the radar though. Once he was out with a groin strain and I was trying to get hold of him and I couldn’t. The team couldn’t reach him either. We were on a road trip, and I ended up flying home to Chicago between games. I was so fucking terrified of what I was going to find.”

“I’m sorry.” Her heart squeezed.

“But he was fine. That time. I bought this house because it had the coach house out back. I wanted him to move in there. It would be his own place, but he’d be close and I could keep an eye on him. But he kept saying no.” He blew out a breath. “We bought a place in Georgian Bay, back home in Ontario. It’s beautiful there. We spent his last summer there, hanging out and fishing, and some of the guys came and stayed with us. I have great memories of that summer.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you have that.”

He nodded. “He started the season okay, and I thought things were better. It had been a while since he’d been really bad. Even so, I never used to turn off my phone, because I didn’t know when I’d get a call in the middle of the night because he was struggling. Then he relapsed. Couldn’t play again. We were on a road trip, and I don’t know why, but that night I turned off my phone.”

She made a soft sound of distress in her throat. “He called you?”

“Yeah. Left a message.” His voice thickened. “He was messed up. Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, and she saw the hints of moisture at the corners of his eyes. Her heart ached and her stomach tightened to the point of pain. “He killed himself that night.”

She’d known this was coming, somehow, since he’d started telling the story. Her eyes stung and her own throat closed up, hurting for him.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for that. What if my phone had been on? What if I’d talked to him?” He choked out the words and without conscious thought, she moved even closer, now her face against his chest, her arms around him…and his around her, his tequila glass abandoned on the table. He was solid and hot against her, but she could feel a fine trembling in his big body. His arms banded around her, and it felt so good, not just physically, but emotionally. She was glad to give him the tiniest bit of comfort by being here, listening to him, hugging him back.

“Of course, I went through everything in my head—over and over—every text, every conversation we’d had.” He cleared his throat. “Could I have done something different? Did I miss something? Was he putting on an act of feeling okay when he really wasn’t? I know there were times he felt like a burden on me, and it gutted me to think that was why he’d ended his life.”

“It sounds like he battled a lot of things,” Jodie said. “Maybe he just got tired of it.”

For a moment he said nothing, just hugged her tighter, his hand in her hair. Finally, he said, “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Thank you.” She felt some of the tension ease out of his body.

His words had relief shimmering through her. She’d been so afraid that when he was done telling this painful story he’d be angry at her because of it, knowing how private he was. “Thank you for telling me. Sometimes just talking about things helps.”

“Yeah.” He eased her away from him just enough that he could meet her eyes with a rueful smile. “I guess I should know better than to keep shit all bottled up inside me, huh?”

“Yes, you should.” She paused. “Do you think you’ve been depressed too?”

The corners of his lips turned down, but he gave her question serious consideration rather than dismissing it. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t think so. Yeah, I’ve been grouchy lately, but at this time of year I start thinking a lot about Aleks and I just…kind of like to wallow in it. I think I’m sort of punishing myself.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t stop me from feeling responsible. Guilty. Like I don’t deserve the success I’m having. He deserved it more than I do. So I just want to beat myself up for a few weeks. Then I’ll get back to normal.”

“I don’t like that. But I get it.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Do you want to be alone?”

He regarded her with slightly bleary eyes, then said, “No. Actually, I don’t. But I don’t want to talk anymore.”

Er…what did that mean? What did he want to do?

He picked up the remote. “Want to watch a movie with me? This was Aleks’s favorite.”

She let out her breath. “Sure.” She shifted so she was beside him facing the TV, his arm still around her, and they watched The Big Lebowski.