As if she couldn’t figure that out with his desperate sweet nothings. She knew. He’d felt her body melt as he told her she was his and he was hers. He wanted to take care of this woman, cherish her so she didn’t work so hard, give her a reason to stay still.
It was what you did for people you loved.
Usually a phone call from Henri would dampen his spirits, but when Reid saw his name flash on the screen, he didn’t tense up. He didn’t even wish the call away. All this progress!
“Hey, Dad.”
“You ready for tonight?”
“Sure, you’ll get a good fight.”
Henri cleared his throat and seemed to take a moment, which was in itself so rare that Reid’s heart missed a beat. “You know I’ve only ever wanted you to succeed, Reid. Do even more with your talent than I could with mine.”
Huh. That was the first time Henri had ever mentioned the word “talent” in reference to Reid. Maybe Nadine had said something.
“You push hard because you want the best for us.” Reid knew there was love in Henri’s action, but it was a fucked-up version where he called the shots and dictated the terms. Reid was beginning to think he should distance himself from his father’s “love.”
Surround himself with people who were less obsessed with perfection.
He had placed too much emphasis on self-denial, on his harsh regimen. After all, sex hadn’t suddenly dimmed his focus. A raspberry brownie wasn’t going to send him on a rocketing descent to the AHL. If anything, Kennedy and Bucky and this home life gave him something to look forward to.
A reason for striving that wasn’t tied to his dysfunctional relationship with Henri.
“I know you think your old man doesn’t have much to offer. I still think you had a better chance of staying with that team when you played the wing. You can make more of an impression that way. With this center business, don’t be surprised if they trade you out.”
Another move, another team. If someone wanted him.
“No one has said anything. Coach seems happy with my play once I settled into the groove.” Once he had opened himself to possibilities.
To Kennedy.
“Well, no one’s gonna give you a heads-up. They’d prefer to blindside you so they can squeeze every last drop out of you. Listen, put up a good fight, show them you can go toe to toe with the best, and you might be in with a shot at the contract. No holding back now. I’ll see you after the game.” The twisted pep talk at an end, he ended the call.
Reid’s mind rebelled against the black seed Henri had planted. He was playing well, his best season in the NHL. Sure his brother would always be the star winger and Reid would always be in his shadow. That was the trade-off he made by switching to center. By becoming more of a team player. The Rebels management would recognize that. They had to.
Fuck you, Henri. Fuck. You.
Distracted, he turned back to the laptop. Something on the screen caught his eye. He clicked on it, then wished he hadn’t as the breath clean left his body.
A folder labeled: Travel Docs. Inside was a PDF of a travel itinerary for Chicago to Bangkok on New Year’s Eve.
One way.
He checked the date. She bought that ticket weeks ago, probably with the money he gave her for the first time looking after Bucky. Reid had effectively bought her a one-way ticket out of his life.
There was something else with the file name: Visa.
She had said there was some paperwork delay but not according to this. According to this, her path was clear, the visa issue resolved, and her start date at the new job in Thailand was January 2.
Twelve days away.
All that spirit he’d summoned in answer to Henri’s negativity a moment ago wavered in the face of this reminder. She hadn’t promised a thing. She had been crystal about her intentions: save money, chase the sun, erase the memories.
After everything he assumed was growing between them, after her defense of him, after offering the sensual harbor of her body, she still remained on this course she had set.
Away from Reid and the life he was building here.
Henri was right about one thing. If Reid wanted that contract, he had to give it his all tonight. Prove that he was worth the shot and not even his more talented brother could stop him. No one could. Then it wouldn’t matter that he didn’t have Kennedy.
It wouldn’t matter at all.
Bond came off and tapped Reid’s stick. “Don’t go easy on him now.”
That almost made Reid laugh, except he wasn’t in a laughing mood. His skin felt too tight, his usually normal pulse pounding.
It seemed like the whole world had been waiting for this showdown, and finally it was here.
He jumped the boards and moved into position. The electricity in the arena was a breathing charge passing from fan to fan, streaming through the players like a live current.
The first fifteen seconds of the shift went by so fast that Reid was barely aware his brother was on the ice.
Lie. Of course he was aware, but he was doing his best to not let it get under his skin.
Bast had to be nervous. How else to explain why he turned over the puck the second Reid got close? Reid passed to Foreman, skated forward, took the pass back. No room to move, then he felt a resounding force to his side. A standard check. Not enough to make him part ways with the puck, but hard enough to send a message.
He pivoted to find his brother staring him down.
Allons-y. Let’s go.
The first period ended and Mia turned to the party assembled in one of the Rebels’ private suites with what Kennedy could only describe as a look of oh-shit.
“That was intense.”
Kennedy had thought so, too, but maybe hockey was like this all the time? Something about the pre-game interviews and commentary indicated it might be outside the norm. Blood in the air, someone had said. Reid and Bast had blown it off as nothing, but Kennedy sensed that this clash was years in the making, fueled by Henri’s pugnacious personality and his unreasonable demands of both his sons, but especially of Reid.
Seeing it from above like this gave her the sense of gods watching mortals in battle.
“Are there usually that many hits and …”
“Penalties?”
“I’d say that set some sort of record for the first twenty minutes of a game,” Casey said. “Those guys are going all out.”
Sadie sipped her wine. “I hate it when they get hit like that. Gunnar had a concussion in the early season and it scared the bejesus out of me.”
“Concussion?” Kennedy tried to keep the worry out of her voice. They wore helmets and enough padding to protect a matchstick model. “Does that happen a lot?”
“God, yes,” Tara said. “Some of it’s terrifying. Broken bones, split lips, skates to the neck—”
“Maybe don’t scare the newbie, T.” Mia glared at Tara. “Reid seems to be playing more aggressively tonight. Almost like he has something to prove.”
“His father’s in town,” Kennedy said. “Apparently, watching his sons face off gets him hard.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard stories. This guy I knew in college was on a Bantam team with Reid, and Henri was so pissed at a result that he went off at him in the locker room. Had to be told to leave by the coach.”