Comeback (19 page)

Brie and Sara were both over when I made the decision to head home, and Sara jumped at the chance to get away, particularly once Brie agreed to watch Connor while we were gone. As it was, Brie and Elin had taken over looking after the little guy the moment Sara had come through the door with him. She hurried me out the door as though she feared they would change their minds if we didn’t get out of there fast enough.

“I love my son, but he is driving me insane right now,” she said while she held open a duffel bag I was filling with bras, panties, and socks. “I tell him no, and he looks at me and cackles like he’s demon spawn, and then he keeps doing exactly what he was already doing as if I hadn’t said anything at all.”

“Sounds like a stubborn little guy,” I said, briefly debating if I should put something a little sexier in my bag. After last night, it might not be the worst idea in the world, although I wasn’t sure Nicky was going to want a repeat performance anytime soon. It had been very clear from the way he’d been avoiding me ever since we’d gotten up this morning that he was still upset about losing control the way he had. No matter how many times I reassured him that I was fine and had enjoyed it, it didn’t seem to make any difference. I’d been fully aware of what I was dealing with the whole time. He’d needed an outlet for his emotion, and I’d given it to him. I just wasn’t sure what it would take for him to see it that way. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have some lingerie available should the opportunity arise. I tossed a few items in the bag and then glanced up at Sara.

If looks could kill, I would be dead, and I was sure it had nothing to do with the matching thong-and-bra combo I’d just packed.

“So stubborn is an understatement?” I suggested cautiously.

She rolled her eyes. “You could say that. I can’t decide who he’s taking after more, me or Cam.”

“You both have a bit of a stubborn streak, then, I suppose.” I’d seen bits and pieces of it with her, and Cam had always seemed like the strong silent type to me. He hardly ever said a word around me. He just went about his business, making sure everything got done. I wouldn’t be surprised if he veered toward the stubborn side of things.

“To the point of being obstinate, or maybe even ornery. You have no idea. I don’t know how anyone puts up with either of us. And when you get us together?” Sara rolled her eyes. She patted her slightly curved belly. “I can only hope this one will listen a little better than his or her big brother.”

“Good luck with that,” I said, laughing. I moved to the closet and started pulling out clothes at random—workout clothes, jeans, slacks, dresses, blouses, sweaters. I supposed I’d need a little bit of everything. I wouldn’t be too far from my apartment, of course, so I could come over whenever I needed to replenish my supply, but it would be good to have a decent assortment at the ready. The holidays were right around the corner, and I had no way of predicting what would come up in the next little while with the kids.

“How’s Nicky really doing?” Sara asked as she followed me in. “I mean, he always acts like he’s fine, but we all know he’s not.”

I knew she was just concerned but it didn’t seem right to talk to her about him without him knowing. It probably went back to the privacy rules surrounding most things to do with addiction recovery. I shrugged, tossing a couple of pairs of slacks in the bag. “How well would you be doing in his shoes?” I asked in lieu of answering her question. That way, she could form her own conclusions, and I wouldn’t be doing anything to break his trust.

“I’d be a fucking mess is how I’d be doing.” She flicked her gaze over to me. “Sorry. Potty mouth. Cam’s always telling me I need to pay more attention before I speak, but sometimes I forget.”

“I just hope for your sake you don’t forget in front of Connor too often.”

Her sheepish grin told me all I needed to know about that.

“Last week, he told his papa—that’s what he calls my father—that James Neal is a douche bag. Totally out of the blue. I have no idea why he would have said something like that. We haven’t even played the Preds in weeks.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I said, imagining her ranting about James Neal being a douche bag in front of that child. She must say it a lot. “And how did his papa react?”

“Daddy agreed with him and then asked him where he would have learned a naughty word like that. Connor pointed straight at me, laughing like he’d just said the funniest thing in the history of funny things. The little traitor.”

NICKY’S HOUSE WAS
in a state of pandemonium when we returned. Brie had pushed all the living room furniture to the sides of the room, and she was in the midst of giving the kids a dance lesson, with little Nils as her partner. There was a lot more giggling going on than dancing, but at least they seemed to be having fun. Nicky and Connor were another story, however. Sara’s son had apparently taken off all his clothes…and his diaper. He was running top speed to get away from Nicky, naked as the day he was born, with his diaper flying in the air behind him. Oh, and he was peeing. A stream of urine on the hardwood floors showed the path he’d taken down the hall, through the living room, and into the dining room. If that weren’t enough to give him away, the incessant giggling would do the job. The dance lesson continued as though nothing was amiss.

Sara rolled her eyes heavenward with a beleaguered sigh. “Pray for me,” she said. Then she followed the pee trail, calling out, “Connor Allan Johnson, you’d better not be peeing on Mr. Nicky’s floor!”

I doubted he was still peeing, considering how much he’d already let out, but I also doubted pointing that out would help anything. The deed was already done. I headed for the utility room to find a mop while she tried to deal with her son.

The rest of the day went by in similarly chaotic fashion. I was glad for the insanity because it meant more laughter and fewer tears.

When night rolled around and everyone went back to their own homes, Nicky and I worked together again to get the kids to bed. Elin insisted on staying in her brothers’ room again, but in general it was a more straightforward process than the night before had been. Now we at least knew where to start.

Or at least it was more straightforward until Nicky and I were alone. Then everything turned awkward.

I was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters. It was a nightly ritual for me, a habit I couldn’t even trace the origins of. I didn’t really remember a time when I didn’t wipe the kitchen counters down before bed, not even when I was a kid. As far as I could recall, it wasn’t a chore that had been assigned to me or anything like that, so maybe it was something I had done to cope with the chaos inherent in the life of an alcoholic’s child.

Whatever was behind it, the fact was I always did it, and I was in the midst of it when Nicky came in to get a glass of water.

“You don’t have to clean up all the time,” he said, hitching a hip against the counter next to the refrigerator.

“I don’t clean up all the time.” I was wiping the counters down at the moment, yes. And I’d mopped up the pee Connor had left as a present earlier. Honestly, that was all the cleaning I’d been doing, though. The players’ wives had been doing it all before I could get to it.

I threw away the single-use wipe I’d been using and turned on the faucet so I could wash my hands. Nicky was frowning when I turned around, drying my hands with a towel.

“Every time I’ve seen you today—or just about—you’ve been cleaning something.”

“Then you must have only seen me twice today. Now and right after Pee-Gate. And frankly, it was all hands on deck at that point.”

I’d never understood how much mess one little boy could make until this afternoon. Urine had covered the floors in three separate rooms, plus the hall. There had even been some on the walls. I didn’t know what it was going to take to potty train that little guy, but I had promised Sara I would send her all my good potty-training juju—whatever that was—until she and Cam managed to get the job done.

“I guess I didn’t see you much today, then.” He was still frowning, but it was a pensive frown now, studious. “Still, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do a lot of work.”

“And helping you sort out how to raise three kids is supposed to be a walk in the park, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I knew it wasn’t. “I promise I won’t act like the hired help, but sometimes, if something needs to be cleaned, I’m going to clean it. And I always wipe down the kitchen counters at the end of the night. It’s habit. All right?”

He gave me a reluctant nod.

I took down a glass and filled it with water, as he had, mainly so I could have something to do with my hands while we talked. We’d gone the whole day and hardly said more than five words to each other—not very comfortable, considering we’d just slept together last night.

“I was wondering,” I said slowly, weighing each of my words, “if maybe you were avoiding me today.”

He met my gaze, but I could still see the wheels moving behind those eyes. “I might have been. Sort of.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on between us.”

“I’ve been doing a bit of that, myself,” I said.

“And what have you come up with?”

“A lot more questions than answers.”

“Me too.” He finished his water and set the glass down on the counter before closing the distance between us. He put a hand on my shoulder, over the bite marks he’d left last night. “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head, wishing that had nothing to do with why he’d been avoiding me today but knowing it had everything to do with it. “I haven’t noticed any pain all day.”

He nodded, his brow furrowed, then he dropped his head down and pressed a kiss on the top of my shoulder, over the fabric of my shirt. “I’m sorry, Jessica. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry. And if you ever…” He stopped for a moment and cleared his throat. “If you ever give me another chance, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Who says I won’t give you another chance?”

He chuckled. “Maybe it’s just me.”

“Maybe so. I think the question right now is do you want another chance? And if you do, are you ready for it now?”

HE DID, AND
he was.

Well, sort of.

He asked me to come to bed with him again, but there was no sex. Not this time. Instead, we just lay there together, talking through the things that were on his mind, telling each other about our lives, and holding each other. In all honesty, it felt much more intimate in some ways than the night before had. Last night had been borne of need, but tonight it was a need of a different sort. And in some ways, it was the more potent need of the two.

We weren’t completely chaste. We held each other and touched each other. There was the occasional kiss, including one that left me hot and breathless and wanting more. But mainly we just talked.

Nicky started recounting his past to me. He told me about the relationship he’d had with his father, how they’d spent hours on the ice together in the winter, his father shooting pucks at him and offering tips about how to be a better goaltender. He talked about Emma not wanting to be left out, so she’d strapped on skates and pads, despite the fact that she’d never liked playing hockey.

“And your mother?” I asked.

“She was…distant,” he said cautiously. “She was never the sort of affectionate mother that Emma was. I’d always wanted a bit of affection from her, but I don’t think she was capable of it. So I focused more on hockey, I suppose in an effort to forget that she didn’t love us.”

“Surely she loved you. Even if it was just in her own way.”

He shrugged, his shoulder shifting beneath my head. “Maybe she did. She didn’t act like it, though. She left us when I was thirteen. Said she needed a change, that was all. No other explanation. I haven’t seen her since.”

Nicky moved on to tell me of some nicer memories while I marveled that two such loving people as he and Emma could have come from someone so unfeeling. He recounted road trips when he was a teenager, laughing over pranks that he’d been part of as though they’d happened only yesterday, rather than well over a decade ago. He told me how Emma and Gabe had met at one of Nicky’s hockey games, and about the sort of father Gabe had been to those kids, describing song and dance routines, getting them up for ice cream when he’d returned home from deployment, every sort of indulgence imaginable.