“That’s what I’m trying to do, damn it! You told me I was hiding away at Rosemont. You were right. I’m trying to change that.”
Panic crawled along the edges of my soul.
“Lucian . . . God. Why can’t you see? I . . .” She lifted her hands, then dropped them, as if in defeat. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”
The finality of her tone chilled me to the core.
“So that’s it? You’re dumping me?”
They’d all left me. But she had stayed. I’d expected . . .
“No, Lucian. I’m not going to leave you. I’m telling you how I feel. That the idea of you doing this terrifies me and breaks my heart.” She pressed her fist to her chest. “This is your choice. You decide where we go from here.”
“Sounds an awful lot like an ultimatum to me, Em.”
Logically, I knew she was right. About all of it. But my heart? My heart said I needed to try. I was supposed to follow my passion. Jean Philipe had known. He’d warned me I wouldn’t be content unless I did my best to keep what I loved close. He’d been right; I’d been broken when I left hockey. If I could have that and Emma, I would be whole.
Emma’s soft voice drifted over the rift between us. “I’m not saying do this or else. I’m saying choose. Choose the life you want, but don’t be surprised if the people who care for you can’t stay and watch.”
Emma
As soon as I was in the safety of the guesthouse, I leaned against the door and sobbed. Great wrenching sobs that wracked my body and made me heave. I stumbled into the bedroom, found a box of tissues, and curled up on the bed to cry some more.
The floodgates had lowered, and there was no stopping it. My soul ached; my heart cracked open. It fell in sharp shards to cut deep. I could feel myself bleeding on the inside, icy rivers of pain and regret.
He was going back to the sport that might kill him. Might destroy his mind.
I wanted to cling to him and beg that he stay out of this, stay safe. And I wanted to scream and kick him for his stubborn stupidity, his willful arrogance. Only I’d seen the desperation in his eyes, the pain. He was crumbling, too, and nothing I said or did would alter his course. He’d only dig in deeper and resent me even more for it.
He’d said he didn’t want to lose me. But he’d already killed a significant portion of what we were. He didn’t need to choose me over life—I would never ask that of him. But he chose to play Russian roulette with his life. How was I to watch that?
And that was the first lie that I’d told him. That I wasn’t leaving him. Because I couldn’t stay and watch this. I couldn’t.
I loved him. Every inch of him. It was the purest, best feeling I’d ever experienced. And it was the worst. A terrifying free fall without a parachute.
The ground was rushing up at me now, the inevitable settling in with bone-numbing certainty. Someone once told me that as soon as your life becomes perfect, fate will find a way to mess it up. Fate had come calling, over and over again; that bitch had knocked my feet out from under me.
Another guttural sob tore from me, and I doubled over, wrapping my arms around my middle in an attempt to hold in the pain.
A warm hand grasped my shoulder, and I startled, blinking up to find Lucian hovering over me.
“Em . . .” His voice broke on my name as he looked me over. “Baby.”
I wrenched away from him, horrified that he’d found me like this, not wanting him to see. But it was too late. He crawled into bed and gathered me close. “Em . . . don’t—”
I covered my face with my hands.
Gently, he eased my wrists down. “Emma. Honey . . .”
“No.” I didn’t know what I was saying. Only that I wanted to hide.
“Yes. Look at me, Emma.”
He ducked his head, met my gaze with his sorrowful one.
My lip trembled. “I just . . . I just . . .” I looked away, tears blinding me.
But he knew. Of course he knew. Lucian knew me on a level that no one else had managed to get to.
Holding my hands in his, he bent down and kissed me. I resisted for a breath, then gave in, surging up to meet him. His lips moved over mine, giving and comforting. He kissed me again. And again. Like penance. Like absolution.
One hand found its way to the back of my neck, holding me there. Gentling me. I let him take over, take me, slowly working the clothes off my aching body, stroking my raw skin with easy touches, as though he were mapping each curve to store in his memory.
He kissed me like it was his last taste and his first. And when he eventually pushed inside me, we both sighed, my lashes fluttering closed so I could just feel.
He made love to me in the cool, dim room, worshipping me with his body, his hands, his mouth, giving me everything. And when I couldn’t take any more, when I begged for release, he eased me into it with quiet kisses, slow thrusts.
And he broke my heart all over again. Because I’d never been loved like this. Never been touched like I was both utterly precious and completely necessary.
I held him while he came in deep shudders that rolled through him. Lucian hugged me close, his breath unsteady and warm upon my skin. For a long moment, neither of us spoke, but when he finally did, it came out in a ragged whisper against my cheek.
“I’m sorry, Em. I’m so sorry.”
He was sorry. But he wouldn’t change his course. And now, neither could I.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Lucian
Everyone was pissed at me.
Mamie wouldn’t look me in the eye. A few days after I’d told her I was going back to hockey, she’d taken Tina and Sal and gone to Paris for some “rest” and shopping.
Anton, of all people, had shaken his head and muttered about idiots. We hadn’t spoken in weeks.
And now Brommy. He skated at my side, his jaw ticcing, eyes hard and focused. Ordinarily, he’d be cracking jokes, gliding around in circles until Rickman told him to get his fucking act together.
When I’d joined the team for an early practice session during training camp, you could have heard a pin drop for all the shock in the room. But most of the guys had quickly rallied, welcoming me back with open arms. I knew I was there only on a tentative basis. We’d play it by ear as my agent hashed out things with management.
Technically, I had one year left on my contract. There was a bunch of legal rambling, but the short of it was they could pick me up or drop me. I didn’t think about that bit. I was on the ice again, suited up and feeling good. Physically, at least.
I glanced over at a sulking Brommy. “Just say whatever it is you’re going to say, and get it over with.”
Brommy glared at me. “All right. This is stupid. Fucking moronic. Shit, Oz, I thought you knew better.”
Prickling heat crawled up my throat. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Like ass you do.” He shot ahead, traded a few slap shots with Linz, then met Hap at the goal to talk shit with him. We waited for Dilly, our offensive coach, and his assistants to call drills.
Grimly, I called for a puck, and an assistant tossed one over. Ignoring the rest of the field, I did my own thing, working through various patterns. But all too soon, Brommy was at my side again.
“What does Emma say about all this?”