Breakaway (22 page)

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.