Chapter 23—Final Seconds

Marina sat at home on her couch to watch the first game of the Finals with Kaley. She preferred to be alone, but Kaley had showed up with pizza. She couldn’t very well kick her out. And, well, she had pizza. How could a girl say no to pizza?

By the beginning of the third period, she felt sick to her stomach. Things weren’t going well for the Sockeyes.

Drew’s play on the first line was crap. He messed up so many opportunities neither Coop nor Smooth could cover for him. The team disintegrated, and the Penguins moved in for the kill. Even Brick couldn’t get his act together, resulting in three goals in the third. Pittsburgh won five to one.

Kaley didn’t say anything, but Marina knew what she was thinking. She was partially responsible for Drew’s poor play.

“Well,” Kaley said after the game ended. “That was brutal.”

Marina sighed and watched the guys skate off the ice, heads down, shoulders slumped, and dejection on every face. Drew turned his head away from the camera, but his stance indicated he was just as devastated as his teammates.

“I’m drowning my sorrows in a soak and a bottle of wine. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“OK,” Marina said glumly. She let Kaley out and waited until she drove off before shutting the door and turning the deadbolt.

The Sockeyes were only one game into the Finals. They had plenty of time. One bad game didn’t lose the Cup, but each bad game made it that much harder when the Penguins didn’t screw up.

Minutes later, Kaley called her. “Are you sitting down?”

“What now?” Marina groaned and braced herself for more bad news.

“Google Skating through Life and your name.”

“Oh, no.” As if things couldn’t get worse, the hits started rolling, hundreds of them. “But I told him I’d think about it just to get rid of him. I never said yes. Why would he do this?”

“But you never said no, either. Hollywood types are pushy like that. A non-answer is a yes to them.”

“He was so insistent. I only said I’d think about it to get him to go away. Do you think Drew has heard this news? And the team?”

“I’m certain of it.”

Marina rubbed her throbbing temple. “I need to contact them and explain after I rip this guy a new one.”

“Marina, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fixable. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

Marina said goodbye and disconnected the call.

She’d contact Drew first and explain everything because no doubt he’d heard the rumors by now, but her call wouldn’t be welcome and might make things worse. Not to mention it was after midnight.

She’d messed up big-time, and she felt like crap about it. She’d betrayed everyone who’d meant anything to her, and most of all, she’d betrayed herself.

Getting involved with him had been a bad idea from the beginning. She should’ve been stronger. Yet, part of her wouldn’t trade those moments for anything. She had to explain. All of it. Even if he didn’t believe her, she had to try.

Against her better judgment, she texted him.

Tough game. You’ll get them next time.

She waited five minutes. Ten. Twenty.

Nothing.

Can we talk when you get home? I’d like to explain everything.

Again nothing.

She dressed for bed and crawled under her sheets, staring at the ceiling until the tears came. Once again, she’d sabotaged her career by making bad choices. Only this time she’d dragged Drew and the entire team down with her. What she did to the Sockeyes was worse than what she did during the Winter Games four years ago.

Memories of her screw-up rose to the surface. She’d been in first place after the short program. The gold was within her reach. Some of the guys had wanted to go clubbing, and Stacy had been the ringleader. Marina agreed, overly confident and ready for a premature celebration. They’d gone into a club, where they’d proceeded to get wasted drunk. To make matters worse, they’d ran into a network reporter and made fools of themselves. The reporter did an entire exposé on them. Attempting to do damage control, everyone pointed fingers—mostly at Marina.

She suffered from a major hangover the next day and was throwing up in the bathroom just before her long program. Marina had the worst performance of her life, missed every jump, and forgot her routine multiple times. By the time she’d skated to center ice for her final bow, she was a hot mess and sprinted off the ice. Her score was her worst ever. Stacy also had a bad performance, and she’d been accused of purposely sabotaging her former coach’s star skater.

The next day, the headlines accused Marina of disgracing the entire country with her antics. Social media blew up, and she became a pariah overnight. She was suspended indefinitely from figure skating competitions.

A short time later, she fled the country after accepting a job from a European skater who’d seen his share of scandal over the years and embraced the drama. Marina didn’t want to embrace it. She’d wanted to wipe it from her memory banks, but Dimitri used her to further his own infamy.

Eventually, things died down, Dimitri found another diva to exploit, and Marina was relegated to teaching basics to figure-skating hopefuls. She had a knack with kids, but every time they progressed to a certain point, Dimitri took over. She’d spent four years unable to get ahead in coaching.

She’d hoped America would be different.

She’d been wrong.

She’d screwed herself once again and the social network peeps hunted her down and crucified her every chance they got. Even worse, she deserved it once again.

Marina tried to shut off her brain and sleep, but she couldn’t. When her phone beeped at about midnight, she braced herself for another scathing text message from some crazy who’d managed to get her cell number.

The crazy wasn’t a crazy. It was Drew.

Yeah, let’s talk when I get back.

She held her phone to her chest, embracing the only good thing that’d happened to her in the past couple days, even as she warned herself he could want to add his voice to all the others vilifying her. Fine, she’d let him. He’d get his say, and she would listen to him and take it.

Maybe if fate finally took pity on her, he would listen to her, too.

* * * *

Drew groped his way down the hallway early Thursday morning, not bothering to turn on the lights. He left a trail of clothes in his wake, stubbed his toe on the doorjamb, and hopped to the edge of the bed. He fell on top of the comforter and that was the last thing he remembered for hours. He slept like he hadn’t in days. He didn’t wake until noon with a pounding headache worse than the worst hangover, only he hadn’t been drinking anything stronger than water.

The Sockeyes had lost their second away game and returned to Seattle beaten but not broken. The team resolved to fix their issues and play as if Game 3 was an entirely new series. So what if they were down two games to the powerhouse Penguins? No one pointed fingers at Drew, but he’d played pee-wee level hockey in the first two games. The guys cast furtive glances his way, some more irritated than worried. Others, especially the more seasoned veterans, were concerned, while the coaches scratched their heads.

He’d played like a demon possessed before Marina and him had broken up. At least his parents had spared their criticism and held their tongues. They’d said nothing to him after either game. He’d met them briefly for breakfast yesterday, and his father talked about Penguins’ weaknesses but never once brought up Drew’s problems. Drew was grateful yet puzzled. In a way he almost wished they’d chew him out because he’d earned an ass-chewing. He was playing the worst games of his career—and in the Finals, no less.

He sat up and scratched his belly, yawning and blinking his eyes as the sunlight poured in the windows and washed streaks of gold across his bed. Marina had looked incredible splayed out naked in this very bed with the sunlight dancing on her pale skin.

Why the fuck did everything remind him of Marina?

He was going to meet with her today. For closure. No other reason. He should’ve told her no, but he was too weak for that. He wanted to see her, inhale her scent, listen to her lyrical laughter. Even if it might be for the last time.

Because she didn’t love him, and without love, they had nothing.

He texted her. Six tonight at Gone Missing?

He didn’t wait for an answer and got in the shower. Bronson would probably be there to witness their discussion, but Drew was beyond caring. He wanted to get this over and move on with his life. He hoped to God talking to her with would enable him to play better hockey instead of obsessing over what could’ve been.

Unfortunately, he feared love didn’t work that way. After a long, body numbing, somewhat cold shower, he picked up his phone and read her message.

See you then.

OK, then game on.

He was ready for her. She’d walked on his heart, used him for her own selfish means, and threw him away when he was no longer able to further her agenda. Anger rolled through him, and he gratefully embraced it. Almost like a drug, anger dulled the pain. He’d been battling a broken heart all week. Today he’d show her he was going to be fine. He was moving on. He didn’t need her.

Drew spent the next few hours working out, going to morning skate, and having lunch with Coop and Smooth. They didn’t speak of his performance or even of hockey. They avoided the subject like the big, fat elephant in the room that it was. Smooth talked about his off-season plans. Coop bragged about Colin and Riley and passed around pics. Drew didn’t have much to say so he pretended to listen and hoped they never asked him any questions.

Finally, the time came to meet Marina. He purposely dressed down in faded jeans and a ratty T-shirt and arrived a half hour early. Bronson was just walking out the door and did a double take when he saw Drew.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be immersed in game videos of Penguins or something?”

“I’m meeting Marina.”

Bronson’s dark brows shot upward and disappeared under his unruly hair. “OK. I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Where are you off to?”

Bronson’s slow smile spread across his rugged face. “Got a date. Don’t wait up for me.” He chuckled as he pivoted and strode briskly to his truck. Drew grinned and walked into the old building. Bronson had a date? He couldn’t imagine. The only dates he’d known Bronson to have were with prostitutes, but then, who said that wasn’t what this was.

Shrugging, Drew entered the messy office and pulled out the file on the Harmon case. He shuffled guiltily through it. He hadn’t worked on it in a while, and he firmly intended to finish to the best of his ability.

He’d been avoiding working on it for two reasons: One, Marina and hockey had been on his mind. He loved untangling the mystery of a good who-done-it, but he’d been wrapped up in his game and playing well until this week. And reason two: He hadn’t wanted to mess with the good mojo he’d had going and muddy the waters by working on a depressing, unsolved case.

Now looking through it and making more notes, he realized how much he missed this.

* * * *

Marina’s hands shook as she pulled her car into the empty spot behind Drew’s SUV. She didn’t know what to expect, and her nerves were getting the best of her.

At this time of evening in this neighborhood, there were plenty of spots. She got out, straightened her pink blouse, gave herself a quick once over in the side mirror, and walked purposefully to the door. It was unlocked. As she entered, the little bell tinkled over the doorway.

Drew stood in the back room and came toward her. Her heart fluttered, and she locked her knees to keep them from collapsing. He was so hot, and she’d missed him so much. She raised her gaze to his face. He could’ve been cut of stone. His eyes were dark and hard, and his body was rigid.

He was furious. She’d hoped he’d be more receptive, but he wasn’t going to make this easy.

He pointed to a set of rickety stairs, and she followed him up two flights. Drew opened a door and sunlight streamed in. He stepped onto the roof, and she joined him. The skyscrapers of downtown Seattle towered to the north and the huge cranes from the Port of Seattle obscured Puget Sound to the west.

“Are you sure this is safe?” She stepped gingerly along the flat roof, not trusting its sturdiness.

Drew’s eyes narrowed. “Would I have invited you up here if it wasn’t?”

“I guess not.”

Drew lowered his body into one of the plastic lawn chairs arranged haphazardly on the roof and flanked by a partially dead plant. Marina sat in the other one. They were a faded green, weathered from many years of exposure to the elements, but they were sturdy enough.

“Say what you came to say.” Drew sipped on a beer he’d grabbed from a battered ice chest. He didn’t offer her one.

“I wanted to apologize for everything.”

Drew snorted. “Yeah, like using me to get a reality show.” The hurt in his eyes sliced deep to her core. She fought the urge to once again run away.

“Drew, I didn’t do that. I never signed the contract.”

“Every fucking gossip blog online says you did. I even heard an interview with the guy who’s producing it.” He didn’t disguise the pain in his voice, and Marina cringed. He was going to torture her, and she didn’t blame him. “You took my heart and used it for a trampoline. You pretended to feel the same way about me that I felt about you, but you were lying. It was all an act. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”

Marina put her hands primly in her lap and adopted her best poker face, the one she’d perfected after the Games debacle. “I didn’t sign the contract. Nor am I interested in signing it. Believe me or not. You can ask Kaley. She knows the truth. I never set out to hurt you.”

“Excuse me if I call bullshit on your second point.”

“Call it what you will. You might’ve chosen me over hockey. I couldn’t let you do that.” Marina met his gaze, hoping he read the sincerity in her eyes. “Drew, I love you. I’ve loved you since the first minute I saw you skate around that practice arena.”

The conviction in her voice deflated some of his self-righteous anger while appearing to leave him at a loss for words. An awkward silence followed where neither of them knew what to say next.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to clear the air. I do love you. I couldn’t bear to see you make a life-changing decision for me.”

For a long time, he stared at his hands clutching the beer. Marina waited him out. Finally, he looked up. “And I’m supposed to believe you now?”

“You’re not supposed to do anything. Just do what you feel is right.”

He stood abruptly and closed the two steps between them. He reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. “What I feel is right is one more night with you, stupid as it might be. Then we’re over. Done. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust you.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “One more night.”

And she’d given it to him. One last night with nothing held back. She gave him her body, her soul, and her heart.

True to his word, Drew was gone when Marina awoke in the morning. No note. Just an empty bed where his warm body had once lain.

She cried inconsolably for what seemed like a lifetime.