September

Vladimir Kolnikov sat in his Corvette in the nearly empty parking lot for a long time. Just a few feet away was the private entrance to the hotel where his friends, teammates, and the woman he loved waited for him to arrive. He was getting married in less than an hour, but instead of heading inside to change into his tuxedo, he was sitting here sweating. Thinking. Panicking.

His heart had started to race late last night when he’d woken up in a cold sweat. He’d told himself it was normal to be nervous, to be a little unsure about doing something so monumental. So permanent. For a guy like him, who came from nothing, he had no idea what he was doing here or how he’d even gotten to this point.

Just a few feet away was the doorway leading to everything he’d always wanted and the most incredible woman he’d ever known, but somehow, he couldn’t make himself get out of the car. He wanted to. He wanted her; he was just mentally, emotionally, and physically paralyzed with fear. He had so many questions and there was no more time to find the answers. Mostly, he wanted someone to tell him how he’d gotten here. How had a guy who’d been left inside a church in Moscow when he was a week old and raised in an orphanage become a star in the National Hockey League and gotten engaged to one of Hollywood’s top television stars?

He felt like a fraud, sitting here in the sweltering September heat, wondering if he was worthy. His life growing up had been hard until he’d found hockey, but he’d put everything he had into it to give himself a future and if he ran, he would throw it all away like an idiot.

Putting his hand on the door handle, he pulled it and the door swung open. He forced one leg onto the ground but the other refused to move, another round of sweat pouring off him.

I’m sorry, Rachel, he thought miserably, pulling his leg back into the car and shutting the door. He put the keys back in the ignition and turned it on, grateful for the air conditioning that immediately began to cool his damp skin. The urge to flee was impossible to ignore, and the insane beating of his heart told him he was having a legitimate anxiety attack. It had been years since he’d had one, but he recognized the symptoms and tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. He didn’t want to start hyperventilating, but that’s where this was headed. If he hadn’t been so focused on getting through it, he might have screamed in frustration.

Pushing back on his whirling thoughts and the nausea coursing through him, he managed to pull his phone out of his pocket. There were dozens of messages from his friends, wondering where the hell he was, but there was no reasonable way to respond to any of them.

“Fuck!” He shouted the word even though there was no one to hear him, and he slammed his fist on the steering wheel. Why was this happening? He didn’t want to do this to Rachel, but he had to. Forces he couldn’t explain were pulling him away. He didn’t know where he was going or why, but he couldn’t do this today. Not like this. Something was off, and it wasn’t fair to Rachel to start their life together this way.

With shaking fingers, he sent her a text:

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I love you, but I’m not ready to be the man you deserve. I have to know who I am and where I came from before I can be your husband and partner. Please forgive me. Always, Vlad.

He put the Corvette in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, heading for home. His time was limited; he had to pack a bag and get out of there before his friends came looking for him. Rachel was receiving the message right about now and then everyone would start calling. The guys would regroup and either Brock or Toli would come after him. Handling Toli would be easy, but Brock would be harder; he was married to Rachel’s best friend, Ashleigh, and the four of them were practically inseparable. Brock was Vlad’s best friend, but he wouldn’t understand leaving Rachel at the altar. No, that would be a confrontation with no good outcome. He had a ten-minute head start, if that, which meant he had about five minutes to throw a few things in a bag and get the hell out of Las Vegas.

* * *

The Sidewinders wedding jinx had struck again. Rachel Kennedy wasn’t the least bit superstitious, but every old wives’ tale and strange tradition she’d ever heard whirred through her mind as she watched her life unraveling before her eyes. Vlad’s best friend and best man, Brock Lassiter, was standing at the front of the room with a microphone explaining why there wasn’t going to be a wedding today. Except she was the bride and she didn’t even know why. How did Brock know when she didn’t? She wanted to stalk down the aisle and demand answers, but that probably wouldn’t end well for her; there were a lot of people out there.

To say the chapel was full might have been an understatement. There were approximately four hundred and thirty-seven guests gathered on both sides of the aisle, and from the anteroom in the back, Rachel watched in detached fascination as Brock did his best to make an awkward, confusing announcement. The Sidewinders organization was a close-knit group in general, and it had felt good to have a relationship with the people closest to him. Until today, when her cheeks burned with shame as Brock stumbled through explanations that made no sense.

“So if everyone could please respect Rachel and Vlad’s privacy right now, we’d really appreciate it. Gifts will be returned as soon as we’re able to sort through everything and, uh, if you have any questions, please come to me or Toli.” Anatoli Petrov was the only other Russian player on the team, another one of Vlad’s closest friends, and he was standing beside Brock, nodding.

The room erupted in quiet murmurs and several flashbulbs went off as members of the media recorded Brock’s speech and took pictures. Most people looked sad and confused, though a few were laughing and carrying on as if it had nothing to do with them. Technically, it didn’t, so that made sense, but it hurt nonetheless.

Watching from her somewhat hidden vantage point, Rachel and Ashleigh quickly closed the door once Brock’s speech was done.

“You’re really pale,” Ashleigh said softly, pushing Rachel into the nearest chair. “What can I do?”

Rachel was shaking her head. “Do you know where I threw my phone after I read that lame-ass message from him? I fucking need to talk to him.”

Ashleigh rummaged through a bag on the sofa and handed it to her.

Rachel took it from her with shaking hands and called Vlad. It went straight to voicemail and she closed her eyes, the first wave of pain washing over her. How could he do this to her? Even though something had happened to make him change his mind, couldn’t he have cancelled this morning, before all the guests had arrived? What was wrong with him? Deciding not to marry her was one thing; publicly humiliating her was something else entirely.

“I have to get out of here,” Rachel whispered, her voice shaky and weak. “Can you find a way to make that happen?”

Ashleigh hesitated. “Rach, the press is going to find you…”

“I know, but I need to go somewhere to fall apart first. Once I’ve gotten it out of my system, I’ll handle the press, the Sidewinders, and even Vlad when the time comes. Right now, I have to run, have to have my meltdown in private. Please.”

“I’ll get Brock,” Ashleigh whispered. “We’ll figure it out.”