Текст книги "Breakaway"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Thirteen

“So what did you want to talk about, Jasmine?” Remi sauntered back into the kitchen after saying goodbye to Jason, feeling soft and relaxed and happy.

“Well. Um. Ethan and I want to buy a house.”

“Oh. Really.” Remi’s stomach rolled over. It had been a big step for them to move in together in Ethan’s apartment. Buying a house together sounded serious. She still wasn’t convinced their relationship was all that mature. She sat at the big, oak kitchen table with Jasmine.

“We want to buy a house, but things have tightened up a lot because of the recession,” Jasmine continued. “So we need a big down payment.”

“Oh. I guess you do.” Remi nodded, still not sure where this was going. She sipped her coffee, scalding hot, dark and rich. “Do you have some money saved up?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She waited.

Jasmine looked down at her coffee, appearing to struggle for words. Then she looked up. “I want you to sell the house,” she said.

Remi shook her head. “What?”

“I want you to sell the house.” Jasmine smiled. “It’s our house. All three of us. Right?”

“Uh…right.” Remi’s mind spun. What did she say? What?

“So if it belongs to all three of us, then one third of the value is mine and I want that money for a down payment on a house of our own. Me and Ethan. So you need to sell the house.”

Remi stared at Jasmine. What was she talking about? “But I live here, Jasmine.”

“I know. But you could find somewhere else to live. You’d have your third of the money.”

“But…” Remi blinked, looked around her. This was her home. This was their home. Even though Jasmine had just moved out, she’d already moved back once. She needed a place to come home to when things didn’t work out. Okay, if things didn’t work out. Think positive. And Kyle—he lived in the dorm at college, but this was really still his home.

“I can’t move out, Jasmine,” she said slowly. “I don’t want to sell this house.”

“But, Remi.” Jasmine leaned forward. “A third of this house is mine.”

It was true.

Their parents had left everything to all three of them, including the house. It had to be split evenly three ways, somehow, someday. But Remi had never thought ahead to the day that might happen.

How could she leave here? The house meant so much to her. Stability. Security. Family. In a life that had her parents flitting in and out and then gone for good, it was the one constant. Home.

But that wasn’t the only problem. Remi did not have faith that Jasmine and Ethan’s relationship was strong enough to last. Buying a house together was a serious commitment.

She sighed. She knew how that was going to be received. Jasmine wanted to hear that as much as she wanted to have her head shaved.

Remi ran her hand through her hair, still tangled from an energetic night with Jason. “Jasmine. This is kind of sudden. I need time to think about it.”

Jasmine’s mouth twisted. “What’s to think about? You know you have to do it. Part of this house is mine.”

The urge to give her sister a shake rose inside her, but she tamped it down, taking a deep breath. “Jasmine. Think what you’re asking. I can’t just sell the house on whim. I need to find somewhere else to live. And besides…” She tried to stop herself, but the words came pouring out. “I don’t know if you and Ethan buying a house together is such a good idea.”

Jasmine’s eyes narrowed and her mouth pouted.

“I knew it,” she said, pushing her cup away. “You just don’t like Ethan.”

“It’s not that.” Dammit, why had she said that? She needed to be careful here. “It’s just what I said. You two have fights all the time. You don’t trust him.”

“Yes, I do.”

Remi resisted the protest that sprang to her lips. Fine. “Okay. Could you just let me think about it? Maybe there’s another way.”

Jasmine stood up and crossed her arms across her chest. “There is no other way. We don’t have enough money and we’ll never have enough money for a down payment. The way the economy is now, we’ll be lucky if we ever have a house. How are we supposed to have kids, living in an apartment?”

Remi stared at her, aghast. “You want to have kids?”

“Well, maybe someday.”

Oh dear God. Jasmine was a very young twenty-one-year-old. There was no possible way she was mature enough to be a mother.

It was all her fault. She’d reared Jasmine for the last five, nearly six years. She should have made her more independent, more responsible. But no. She was too busy being the responsible one, taking responsibility for everything.

Suddenly Remi felt very heavy and very tired, the weight of it all pressing down on her shoulders. She slumped a bit.

“I’ll think about it,” she said slowly. “I promise.”

“Fine.” Jasmine turned and flounced out.

* * *

Jason squinted at Brianne. “You’re what? Pregnant?” Is that really what she’d said?

“Yes.” She twisted her fingers together on her lap, still looking at his chest.

Why was she telling him this? Did she think he’d be upset? He didn’t care about Brianne’s life anymore, he’d moved on. She had to know that.

Suddenly his gut cramped. She couldn’t be telling him this because… Holy fuck. Did she think he was the father?

“Brianne.” His voice came out sounding funny. “Why are you telling me this?”

She looked at him blankly. “I thought I should. You have a right to know.”

“Are you saying…?” He felt his throat close up, paused. Tried again. “Are you saying I’m the father?”

Her eyes widened. “Of course you’re the father! There hasn’t been anyone else.”

The room moved around him, shifted, faded away. He wasn’t sitting, he was floating. He gripped the armrests of the chair to hold himself in place. His vision went foggy and he felt like his brains were spinning around in his head.

It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t be pregnant. It was a mistake.

“You’re on the Pill.”

She nodded, bending her head. “Yes. But…” She shrugged. “I guess we’re one of those point-zero-one percent where it doesn’t work. For whatever reason. I don’t know.”

“Are you sure? How do you know? You could just be late.”

Jason’s fingers ached from clenching the upholstery and he tried to relax. His ass was almost lifting out of the chair, his body had gone so tight and rigid.

“I did two tests. Just to make sure.”

He stared at her, the room still moving in circles like a bad case of bed spins after too much partying. And then he shook his head. Was this for real?

“Brianne. You’re not just doing this to try to get back together, are you?”

Her mouth dropped open. “No!”

“Are you sure?” She’d been phoning him all the time, wanting to talk. This couldn’t be true. “How far along are you?”

“Two months.”

But…but… “Brianne. We broke up two months ago. Are you sure there hasn’t been anyone else?”

“They start counting from the first day of your last period,” she said, her voice low. “Which was two weeks before we broke up. It probably happened that last night…” Her words ended on a small sob and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m not exactly happy about this either. There goes my Victoria’s Secret job.”

That did sound like Brianne, but…

He narrowed his eyes at her. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Anger surged inside him that she would stoop this low.

“You’d better go,” he said, rising.

“What?” She stared at him. “You really don’t believe me?”

He slowly shook his head. “No. I don’t.”

“Jase!” Her cry sounded distressingly anguished. “I’m telling you the truth! I wouldn’t lie about this!”

He shook his head stubbornly, folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin. “Just leave, Brianne.”

“But…but…what do I have to do to make you believe me?”

He scowled. “I don’t know.”

“If I…show you the pregnancy test…?”

He pursed his lips. “That’ll prove you’re pregnant, I guess. It won’t prove I’m the father.”

“Jase!” Her eyes filled with tears. “I haven’t been with anyone else! I love you!”

Fuck. He closed his eyes.

“I can get something from my doctor,” she said, standing, her fingers twisting together. “My doctor can tell you how many weeks I am. Then you’ll know.”

He gave a jerky nod. “Yeah. You do that,” he said. She wouldn’t get anything from her doctor. Because it wasn’t true.

* * *

He wasn’t even going to tell Remi about it. Because it was just so crazy and there was no need for her to get all upset about it. Jesus! He swiped a hand across his forehead as he drove back to her place later. They’d decided to just order pizza and celebrate his win at her place.

When he got there, she greeted him looking a little like a goaltender who’d just been bombarded with fifty shots on goal with no defense. Which was pretty much how he felt. He sucked in a breath as he kissed her.

“You won’t believe what happened,” she said. He followed her into her kitchen where she began to open a bottle of wine.

Oh, man. He could say the same to her. But he wasn’t going to.

“My sister wants me to sell the house,” she said.

“You’re kidding? Why?” He reached for the bottle and corkscrew she was struggling with. “Here. Let me.” He popped the cork out and poured wine into two glasses while she told him about her earlier conversation with Jasmine.

But his mind drifted off, back to that horrifying conversation with Brianne. He still couldn’t believe she would go that far to try to get him back.

“Jason?”

He looked up at Remi. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You seem…distracted.”

He forced a smile, his body tight and twitchy. “Yeah. Fine. Go on.”

He tried to listen, he really did, but his thoughts were all over the place and Remi was noticing. Jesus. He had to stop thinking about Brianne. He firmly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on Remi. “So what are you going to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She looked around her. “I love this house. But it’s true. Kyle and Jasmine are entitled to their share of the house. Even though I think they need this place to come home to. At least for a while.”

He nodded and drank some of the wine. Then the words just popped out of his mouth. “You know…you could move in with me.”

He couldn’t believe he was sitting there calmly, steadily looking at Remi, inviting her to move in with him, and his heart wasn’t racing, his gut wasn’t heaving, his neck and shoulders weren’t rock-hard with tension.

He’d thought about it earlier and now the idea had slid into his head like a puck gliding into the net, and before he’d even had time to think about it, he’d said it. He wanted Remi to live with him.

She stared at him. “What?”

“You could move in with me.” He reached for her hand. “I want you to live with me.”

She moved her head slowly from side to side, pretty lips parted. “But we hardly know each other. We can’t move in together.”

“We know each other,” he said, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand. “I love you, Remi. I want to live with you.”

“Are you crazy?”

He remembered the last time they’d had a conversation like this and how heated and angry her question had been. This time her voice was soft, wondering. He grinned. “No, I mean it.”

“Wow.” She blinked at him. “That’s a pretty serious step for a guy who just wants to have fun.”

“It would be fun living with you,” he said. “I know it.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Jason, there’s more to it than that.”

“I know. I actually thought of it this morning, how much easier everything would be if we lived together. Just think about it. Maybe this thing with Jasmine will blow over. There’s no rush. But you know…even if you don’t have to sell the house…think about it.”

She nodded, her eyes a little dazed. “Okay.”

“Let’s order pizza. I’m starving.”

* * *

It took Brianne a week.

She showed up at his apartment the next Saturday, grim-faced and pissed. “Here,” she said, shoving a paper into his hand. “Nine weeks. Now do you believe me?”

He stared down at the note on official medical stationery. It looked…real.

His stomach heaved, his mouthed filled with saliva and he swallowed repeatedly. He could not puke. He could not puke.

“And I brought this too,” she snapped, pulling a plastic baggie out of her purse. She handed it to him too. He looked at the plastic stick inside. “That’s the pregnancy test I took. For the third damn time.” Her lips tightened into a thin line. She glared at him.

He wiped his mouth. The silence stretched out, long and thick.

A million questions backed up in his brain. He closed his eyes.

Jesus. A baby. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing to do?” He sounded like his voice was coming from far away, echoing in his ears.

“I’m…I’m going to have the baby.”

He squeezed his eyes closed. He’d never been someone who believed in abortion but he’d also always believed in a woman’s right to choose. Because they were the ones who got pregnant. But at that moment, he had to ask, why, why she would do that when her career and his life would be so hugely impacted by this.

But he knew why. It was a baby. Their baby.

Jesus Christ. How could this have happened?

How could he be a father? He felt like a kid himself. And what was he supposed to do about Brianne? They’d broken up. He didn’t love her. But she was going to be the mother of his child.

Nausea rolled again. He fought it down and looked at Brianne standing there, arms folded across her chest, hip cocked.

He had to ask it. “What do you want from me, Brianne?”

Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. “You know what I want.”

Did she want them to get back together? To try to make something work for the sake of their child? The questions ricocheted around inside him, but he was a coward, too afraid to speak them aloud in case she said yes, that’s what she wanted.

Remi.

Oh, Christ, Remi. How was he going to tell Remi about this?

He’d just asked her to move in with him.

The idea of hurting her sliced through him with such a sharp, jagged pain he made a noise. He cleared his throat, glancing at Brianne. She watched him with sad, glossy eyes and a shaky mouth.

He turned and walked into his living room, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Neither do I.” She followed him and perched on the edge of his couch. He lowered himself into a chair.

“D’you…do you want us to get back together?”

She blinked at him. “I still love you, Jase. You know I do.”

Fuck. That was not what he wanted to hear. That jagged pain inside him intensified.

“I don’t know if I can do this on my own, Jase.”

He moved his head slowly up and down. He got that. He wasn’t sure if he could do it either. A baby! Christ!

He leaned his head back, trying to imagine his life with a child. With Brianne. Terror clawed at him, long talons dragging through his intestines, panic bubbling up inside him with that familiar feeling of being caged, trapped, noosed.

Like marriage, he’d always figured parenthood would come someday. He wasn’t a confirmed bachelor, sworn to stay single forever. Nah. His parents had created a great family and he wanted that too. Someday. Some very far-distant day.

A son to teach how to play hockey.

Maybe a girl. But girls could play hockey too.

But not now. Not now. Not now.

He lifted his head and looked at Brianne.

“I can’t do it alone,” she whispered. “I need you, Jase.”

She held out a hand.

He ached. He hesitated. But the despair and pleading in her eyes tugged at something inside him. They’d done this together. Created a baby together. He rose up, walked over to her and sat down beside her. She turned into him and he hugged her, holding her against him, her face pressed to his chest, his cheek to her hair.

Guilt weighted heavy on his shoulders—a feeling like he was cheating on Remi. But Brianne needed him. Man, did she need him. More than he wanted to be needed and a battle raged inside him over who he owed more to, over what he was supposed to do, over whether he had it in him to do the right thing—or whether he had it in him to even know what the right thing was.

His life was so fucked up.

Chapter Fourteen

Remi looked at her watch again. Seven o’clock and Jason still hadn’t called. She’d assumed they would spend the evening together, as they had been lately. Where was he?

She rubbed her neck and shoulders. She’d spent the afternoon grading papers and planning a big class project she was going to get the kids working on next week. Her mind kept veering off, though, thinking about selling the house, thinking about moving in with Jason… Pinwheels spun in her tummy every time she thought about that. God. Live with Jason. Could she do it?

She was in love with him, wanted to be with him. But how hypocritical was it of her to tell Jasmine she shouldn’t buy a house with Ethan and then move in with a man she’d only known a few weeks? She pressed her fingers between her eyes where tiny hammers had started thumping.

She got up from the kitchen table where she’d been working and stretched, then sighed. Maybe she should call Jason and see what had happened to him. She hoped everything was okay.

Her heart stuttered. Maybe he’d been hurt in practice that morning. God. He could be sitting in a hospital right now.

She punched in his cell phone number. Waited. “The cellular customer you are calling is not available.”

She looked at her phone with a frown. He had his cell phone off? That was unusual. She called the number at his apartment, but it rang and then went to voice mail.

Should she leave a message? Sure, why not. “Hi Jase, it’s me. It’s just after seven, just wondering what happened to you. If you get this, give me a call and let me know you’re okay. Bye.”

She hoped that sounded casual enough.

She walked to the front window to look out on the dark street, as if Jason might just drive up at any minute. What if he regretted making that impulsive offer of moving in together? Was he avoiding her? She rolled her eyes. Even if he did have second thoughts, surely he was mature enough to just tell her. She could take it. All he had to say was, “Hey, let’s not rush things” and she’d be fine. She didn’t want to rush things either.

In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she’d do it. If she had to sell the house—and that was just one more thing she was undecided on—it would probably be better for her to get her own apartment or something. It would be the sensible, responsible thing to do.

She’d always been sensible and responsible.

Since she’d met Jason, she’d done things she’d never have dreamed of—picking up a guy and taking him home, hot sexual adventures, flying off to California for a sexy weekend. Crazy. Moving in with him would be the craziest thing of all.

But there was no denying how much she wanted that. How much she wanted to wake up with him every morning, to go to bed with him every night, to cheer him on and share his triumphs and yes, his losses, because he would have those. To be there for him.

She’d come a long way from wanting nothing to do with him because of paparazzi stalkers, aggressive female fans and a huge paycheck. Now—she loved him. None of that mattered.

She also had to admit she liked how he was there for her. How supportive he’d been when Kyle had been freaking out, even though she’d been annoyed at him. How steady he’d been when she’d been ambushed by Jasmine’s request. She’d been thinking about it all week and she longed for him to be there so she could share all her confused feelings about selling the house. How it was more than just a house, it was their home. But yet, if Jasmine and Kyle didn’t live there anymore, there was no real logical, rational reason not to sell it. Truthfully, the cash would help pay for Kyle’s tuition. Or she could insist he invest it and save it as a down payment on a home of his own one day.

But Jason wasn’t there to talk to about it.

She moved away from the window to wander around her house, straightening things, wiping the counter that was already spotless, staring into space.

Maybe she could find a movie on TV to keep her occupied for a while. She sat down on the couch and flicked through the channels, finding a chick flick she’d already seen, but hey, without Jason there, it was a good time to watch it again.

She fell asleep with the television on and woke up feeling groggy and disoriented. She still hadn’t heard from Jason. And she didn’t hear from him all day Sunday either, until her cell phone rang at nearly ten o’clock when she was getting ready for bed, heart heavy and aching, stomach cramped with worry.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” It was Jason. She recognized his voice even in that one word.

“Jase. Where are you?”

“St. Louis.”

“Oh.”

“I…” He stopped. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. Uh…something came up and…I’m really sorry, Remi.”

“Is everything okay, Jase? You sound funny.” She pushed her bangs off her face. Something clutched at her heart and squeezed, sending scary feelings through her, shivery, worried feelings.

“I’m okay. I just wanted to call you. I wanted to…” He stopped again. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Listen, I’ll call you when I get back.”

“Sure. That’s fine.” Her stomach churned. Something felt wrong. He did not sound like himself. “Good luck tomorrow night. I’ll be watching.”

“Thanks, Remi.” There was a long pause, then he said, “I love you, Remi.”

“Oh.” Her heart squeezed. “I love you too.”

She hung up with trembling fingers, closing her burning eyes. She’d go to bed, get a good night’s sleep and in the morning everything would be fine.

* * *

But Monday morning she discovered how not fine things were. Skimming through the morning paper while she drank coffee, she flipped the page and her eyes were immediately drawn to a small headline—“Chicago Wolves player arrested for disorderly conduct.”

She leaned forward, frowning. “Saturday night, Chicago Wolves center Jase Heller was arrested at Sage Restaurant. According to restaurant manager Brian Smythe, Heller had arrived at the restaurant with a group of teammates at about nine o’clock. When advised of the dress code by the hostess and told that he could not enter the restaurant wearing blue jeans, Heller became angry and argumentative. When Mr. Smythe reinforced the restaurant policy and again told Heller he could not enter wearing blue jeans, Heller stripped off his jeans and walked into the restaurant in his underwear. Restaurant personnel asked Heller to leave, but he refused. Police were called and Heller was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct, public intoxication and resisting arrest. He was later released on bail.”

Remi sat frozen in her chair, her coffee forgotten. What the hell? Arrested? He’d taken off his pants in a classy restaurant and made a scene?

At least he’d been wearing underwear.

She wanted to disbelieve that this could have been Jason, but the black letters on the page popped out at her as if they were in big, bold font.

She shook her head. There must be some mistake. This was not possible.

The coffee she’d drank burbled in her stomach and threatened to come back up. She shook her head. What was going on? This was insane.

April fool’s day had passed days ago. This couldn’t be a prank. But he hadn’t said a word of this when they’d talked last night and her sense of unease and dread grew.

She had to go to work.

As if she could concentrate on thirty energetic kids. But she had no choice. In fact, she was going to be late.

She drove to school in a daze, thoughts tumbling around in her head like laundry in a dryer. Nothing made sense. She felt lost, like she was wandering through a maze, not sure which way to turn, smacking up against walls, desperate to get out.

What had she gotten herself into? Had she fallen in love with a nut job? Had he fooled her that well?

No. No. They loved each other. She had no doubt about the depth of their feelings for each other, which only made the situation more bizarre. In her wildest imaginings, she could not come up with something that reasonably explained this.

All day it took monstrous effort to stay focused enough to teach, to keep things under control with a group of pre-teens who looked for any weakness, any small crack that would give them the advantage, because once they started it was even harder to bring them back.

By the time the bell rang at the end of the day, she was exhausted.

And worried sick. She hadn’t been able to eat lunch and certainly wasn’t interested in dinner.

She had to talk to someone, so when she got home she called Delise and told her what had happened. Delise hadn’t seen the newspaper article, but sounded as shocked and confused as Remi felt.

“Don’t even say I told you so,” Remi said fiercely.

“I won’t. Do you want me to come over?”

“Um…maybe. I’m going to watch the game on TV.” Seeing Jason on television would at least reassure her that he was alive and functioning.

“I’ll come over. I’ll bring popcorn and beer.”

She didn’t want popcorn and beer, but didn’t say anything, letting Delise think she was helping.

“Thank you for coming,” she said later, as they sat side by side on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them. Delise was munching and Remi’d picked up a few kernels, but they tasted like she was eating dog kibble. One beer on an empty stomach had her a little woozy. She kept her eyes glued to the television, watching for Jason.

He was there. She caught sight of number twenty-five in the line as the national anthem played, but the cameraman apparently wasn’t as interested in him as she was and passed right by him.

“He’s there,” she breathed.

“So, that’s good.”

“I guess.” Maybe she would have felt better if he’d still been in jail or if he’d actually been hospitalized with a head injury and amnesia.

Jason did not take the opening face-off. In fact, as the game progressed, he didn’t play a lot, and when he was on the ice he seemed sluggish and slow. Was he sick? Icy fingers squeezed her insides painfully. “Oh, Delise,” she said, her voice coming out shaky. “Something’s wrong.”

Delise glanced at her and patted her leg, but Remi could tell she didn’t know what to say. Had she been rudely dumped? Or was there really something wrong? She nibbled her bottom lip until it was raw. The Wolves were not playing well as a team, and going into the third period, the score was three-one for St. Louis. Not a good start.

Even she could tell the Wolves were frustrated.

Then they got two quick goals and tied it up. They both cheered, but it didn’t make her feel much better. Gut-gnawing anxiety still chewed away inside her.

Another nail-biter, the clock ticking away time. She wasn’t sure if the same thing happened in a playoff game, if they did a shootout or if they kept playing, but she knew it couldn’t end in a tie.

The Wolves got a few more great shots on the net, but the St Louis goalie made some heart-stopping saves. She watched as Dominic smacked his stick into the boards with frustration. Where was Jason? Why weren’t they playing him much? They needed him!

And then, with only a minute forty-three seconds left in the game, there he was, circling on the ice, ready for a face-off. He crouched, alert, poised. The camera zoomed in on him and the St. Louis center, who said something to Jason. Jason said something back.

Remi had a feeling they weren’t making a bet on who’d pay for dinner after.

The ref dropped the puck and Jason smacked at it, but didn’t get control. The camera followed the puck, but then the crowd was screaming, the whistle blew and the television screen filled with an image of two players going at it, gloves off, fists flying, shirts wrenched.

“Oh dear God.” She felt her eyes go wide and her mouth hung open. She covered it with her hands. It was Jason in a fight.

Delise and Remi both sat forward, the popcorn forgotten. Remi couldn’t breathe and her heart accelerated.

The two men continued to hammer at each other and she swore she felt every punch that landed on Jason as if they struck her own body. She flinched and tensed. The refs circled them, the other players drifted over to the boards near their respective benches.

Then Jason dropped the other guy to the ice and fell onto him, punching at his face with fierce, frenzied blows.

“Jesus!” She pressed her hands to her mouth, wanted to cover her eyes, look away. She couldn’t stand it. “What are you doing?” she shouted at the television, as if he could hear her. “Stop, Jason. Stop it!”

The refs finally pulled Jason off the other player and dragged him away, bleeding from his face, chest heaving, hands still in fists.

They went to a commercial.

She shook her head, beside herself. She wanted to teleport herself to St. Louis, find him and scream at him. She just did not get it.

She knew fighting was a part of hockey, a big part. She and Jason had talked about it, how he didn’t condone fighting just for the sake of fighting, but with high adrenaline and intense competition it was going to happen sometimes, and it was okay if it was for some noble purpose like defending another player or protecting the goalie. Although she didn’t exactly get what was noble about beating someone up.

She’d never seen Jason fight, but then she’d only seen a couple of games. He wasn’t known as a fighter. He was known as a smart player, big, but quick-thinking and intuitive, a player who used finesse rather than his fists.

Delise looked at her, her lips rolled in. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. She didn’t even know what to say. She stood. She walked back and forth in front of the television until the game came back on, arms wrapped around herself.

Jason had, of course, been given a penalty. She didn’t understand it all, apparently he got more than one penalty, but in the end, the Wolves were shorthanded for the rest of the game. And guess what? St. Louis scored.

And won the game, thanks to Jason Heller’s stupid penalty.

“Think, Remi, think.”

She replayed everything over in her head. “He asked me to think about moving in with him,” she told Delise, meeting her eyes. It shouldn’t have been enough to scare him into panic-mode and send him running the opposite direction, but she didn’t rule that out, because she knew why he’d broken up with Brianne.

“For some reason he ended up out with his hockey buddies Saturday night. He must have had a lot to drink for him to drop his pants in a restaurant and create a scene like that.”

“Maybe he was celebrating making the playoffs,” Delise suggested, her face somber.

Remi paced around her living room, not really seeing anything.