Laces and Lace (Assassins #6) (11 page)

She covered her face, her tears leaking all over her hands as her body shook with her sobs. The room was completely quiet and she thought he had left, but when she looked up, she found him still watching her from the doorway. “I’m sorry, Lacey. I really do love you.”

And with that, he shut the door, completely shattering her heart. As Lacey lay there, tears rushing down her face as she choked on her own sobs, she had no clue what had just happened, or how she was going to put herself back together after that. Their love was all-consuming, and now she wasn’t going to have that. How did someone come back from that?

She thought being diagnosed with cancer and having her breasts removed was the hardest thing she’d ever have to battle, but all the pain she felt then didn’t even come close to the pain she was feeling at the moment. She was a survivor though, and she knew that she would cope with losing the greatest love of her life. But, like everything else that happened in her life, she wished she didn’t have to.

K
arson stood in the back of the auditorium as the Catappellas sang their hearts out for the championship. His bags were in his car and all ready for the trek back home to Wisconsin before the draft. He wanted to be excited for the new life he was about to embark on, but it was hard when he knew that the girl who stood in the middle of the group in a bright red dress wasn’t going with him. It had been a month since he had broken things off with Lacey, and each day was harder than the last. He fought with himself daily to keep from going to her and begging for forgiveness. He knew he had made the biggest mistake of his life, but he prayed in the long run it was for the best.

He missed her—everything about her. He missed her lips, her smile, her laugh, and the feel of her body against his. He wanted nothing more than to run to the stage and ask her to run away with him, but from where he stood, he could see Grady and Coach. The hatred he felt in his body for his old coach was indescribable. He would always blame him from taking away his world and ruining him.

As he watched the Catappellas sing “All You Need Is Love” by the Beatles, his heart ached for her. He was stupid to come; he knew that this would hurt, but he had to see her one last time before he took off, leaving Chicago and his world behind him. Watching her from afar was hard and he hated it, but it was what he had resorted to for the last month. He wasn’t sure when or if he’d ever see her again, so he knew he had to come, even if it was just to watch her since he knew he couldn’t say anything to her. His words would mean nothing to her. He had already broken her, and nothing he would say could fix what he had done.

When the group started to sing the melody to “Yesterday,” also by the Beatles, someone handed Lacey a mic and she took center stage, the lights shining on her, making her look like an angel. Something lurched in his chest. He fought for his breath as her sweet lips moved, and the most beautiful sound came out. As she sang the song, each word stabbed into Karson like a knife. He knew it wasn’t a coincidence that she was singing this song. She might not know that he was there, but she was singing it for him. It hurt hearing the words, but he welcomed the pain.

He deserved it.

When she hit the crescendo of the song, he could see her tears welling up and soon a tear rolled down her cheek as she sang her heart out. She was going to do great things. As the realization that she was going to do them without him settled on his heart, his own eyes filled with tears. Taking in a deep breath, he moved his hand along his cheek, catching his tears as Lacey finished the song, causing the crowd to lose it. Unlike he usually did, Karson didn’t clap or cheer; he only watched her. While she smiled and bowed, thanking the crowd, he hoped that the powers beyond gave them another chance later in life because, if he did get another chance, he’d never let her go. No matter what. He regretted what he had done, and he knew that he would live with that regret for the rest of his life.

As he walked away, his heart heavy, he knew that his love for Lacey would never stop. While he knew he was about to embark on a new journey, he also knew that his heart would forever stay hostage to Lacey Martin.

And there was no other place he’d rather leave it.

E
very time Karson King stepped foot in Chicago, he felt like he was suffocating.

Or maybe it was the fact that Coach Baxter had lost his ever-loving mind before practice that morning. Karson wasn’t sure which one it was, but it was plain as day that he was struggling to keep up with the drills that Baxter was running. It wasn’t his morning. Ever since the plane touched down in Chicago, he knew that this wasn’t going to be a good trip. He was the one who always thought they would win. Hands down. The Nashville Assassins were the best damn team in the league, in his opinion. He’d scream it from the rooftop, but every single damn time they set foot into Chicago, he sang a different tune.

There was something, or better yet, someone in this damn city who mentally fucked him every time he visited. It didn’t matter. He could come for a quick visit, and something would go wrong. Like when he came for his buddy Drew’s wedding. It rained. Some say that is good luck, but it was an outdoor wedding. Karson was soaked to his underwear, and poor Elizabeth, the bride, looked like a drowned cat.

It was sad.

When he came for the alumni game for his alma mater so that he could drop the puck during a play-off game, he slipped on the fucking ice.

What the fuck?

He was a hockey player. He lived, breathed, and loved the ice and somehow slipped. Off a piece of carpet nonetheless. In front of thousands of people. Pathetic.

And for the love of God, when he played against the Blackhawks, might as well not even watch him; he was tragic. Playing like a pee-wee player, missing shots, missing blocks, basically looking like a fish out of water… He was downright ridiculous.

It was this damn city. That’s all there was to it.

Digging into the ice, he took long strides to catch up to his line that was crashing the net, hoping for some kind of rebound to score. But it was hard to score on Tate Odder. Like the ninja goalie he was, he batted every shot away. When the puck came in front of Karson, he went to shoot, but somehow forgot to connect the blade of his stick to the puck.

Like a dumbass.

When Jakob Titov took the puck and sailed it up to whoever was waiting for it, Karson let his head hang and let out a long breath.

“What the fuck, King! Get it together,” Coach Baxter yelled.

He hated this damn city.

After showering and basically licking his wounds after Coach ripped him one, Karson took a long nap, or better yet, tossed and turned in bed before heading out into the brisk, cold Chicago air. Looking around, he let out a long breath before letting his shoulders drop. Looking up at the tall buildings, the busy street goers, the basic splendor of Chicago, Karson couldn’t muster up anything but disdain for this city. It was supposed to be his second home. After coming here twelve years ago from Wisconsin, Karson knew he had been about to embark on the journey of a lifetime. He was going to train with the best college coach ever, Nate Martin. He was just that too—on the ice, that is. Off the ice, he could kiss both of Karson’s ass cheeks, but he didn’t like to think too much about that. It brought back too many painful memories. It made him think of how, for the last nine years, he hadn’t been living, not in the least.

It was sad, really. Chicago had been good to him before he left for the draft. He’d had lots of fun here, he made longtime friends, he played some of his favorite hockey here, and he also fell in love for the first time here.

The only time.

But now, he walked the street with nothing but a bad taste in his mouth. He hated it here. If he were honest, it wasn’t the city itself, but the person who he knew still lived here that made this city somewhat of a bad omen to him now.