Smoke Signals (32 page)

“Hey. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

I only hoped she had no intention of leaving.

I held her for so long I thought she’d fallen asleep. But at one point, she lifted her hand to my cheek and angled my head until I looked down at her.

“Need you to know I love you.” In the moonlight streaming in through the window, her eyes—almost black in their intensity—bored through me.

I swept her hair off her forehead and kissed her where it had been. “I know you do. And I love you, too.”

“I love you so much it already hurts.”

I held her tighter, memorizing the feel of her long, strong body curling into mine. Times like this, she left my nerves on edge.

THE NEXT DAY
was another game day, the last home game before we would leave for our first road trip of the season. It was also the day that Tori was finally going back to the counselor. Mom had talked her into it over the course of the week and was going with her to be sure she showed up and went through with the session.

After morning skate, I wanted to get out of the arena and home as soon as possible so I could find out how it had gone, but Gary Asher, the team’s general manager, stopped me before I could leave the locker room.

“I need you to come to my office for a minute, Razor.”

In my experience, it was rarely good when the general manager wanted to see me in his office. Since I wasn’t due for a new contract for a few more years, it couldn’t be anything of that nature. That left being traded. Or at least that was the only thing that came to mind.

And I couldn’t get traded.

Not now.

Yeah, I would give my left nut to be playing for a team that wasn’t destined to scrape the bottom of the barrel in the league for several years to come.

But Tori was safe here.

Hell, if it was a Canadian team he was trading me to, she couldn’t even come with me. Until we had everything sorted out with her residency status, she couldn’t leave the country.

And I sure as fuck couldn’t take her with me to Montreal or Toronto, if either of those were where he’d traded me.

He stopped halfway through the door. “Coming?” he said. I was still in my stall, watching him with my jaw hanging open as all of these bad scenarios followed by worse scenarios raced through my mind.

“Yeah, Gary. Be right there.” I shoved my phone in my pocket and followed him out.

How the hell was I going to talk him out of trading me? Was it already a done deal? I should have pushed harder for a no-trade clause when I’d signed my last contract. Granted, I wasn’t even with the Thunderbirds when I’d signed that deal. They’d picked me up in an expansion draft last summer, so they’d inherited the contract I’d signed with the Sabres. I was just stuck with the terms, with this team, with the current management.

Except now, he wanted to trade me.

I followed him into his office and shut the door, talking before I’d even turned around to face him. “I know that this is a business and all that, but you can’t fucking trade me. Not now. I’ll do whatever you need me to, but—”

“I’m not trading you, Razor,” he cut in.

“You’d damned well better not be.” With the thick Southern accent, there wasn’t a chance in hell that was anyone but Mr. Jernigan.

I spun around, confused as all get out. “You’re not?” And why was the team owner in here? This wasn’t normal. I didn’t know what it was, but it was definitely
not
normal.

“Why the hell would I want to trade you?” Gary demanded. “I sure don’t have anyone else to fill your role.”

“Have a seat, Chambers,” Mr. J said.

Chambers
. No one around here called me anything but Razor. I didn’t know what to do with that, but I took a seat like he’d told me to.

This had to be about Tori. And Mrs. Jernigan.

Had to be.

Gary cleared his throat. “Razor, Tom asked me to bring you in so he could say something to you.”

“I’m not telling Tori to stay away, if that’s what this is about.”

“It is,” he said. “And it isn’t.”

I shook my head. “I don’t follow.”

“I’m here to apologize to you.”

Now I was really lost.

“You haven’t done anything to apologize for. And if anyone is owed an apology, it’s my wife.”

“I completely agree,” Mr. J said. “Sharon certainly owes your wife that much and more, but I thought I’d start it with you, man to man. Make sure the two of us are on the same page. I didn’t know what was happening until I walked in that night. There
are
members of our congregation who are calling and sending messages, trying to get us to end any association with her. I’m actually working on a sermon for next month to put everything that’s wrong about what they’re asking of us into perspective. I never would have agreed to go along with what they’re demanding, and if I’d had any idea that Sharon was behaving in such a manner, she and I would have had a come-to-Jesus discussion well before now.”

I wanted to cut to the chase. “So no one’s going to try to kick Tori out of team events where our families are allowed, right?”

“Right,” he said. “No one is going to say anything to her. And in fact, I’ve strongly encouraged Sharon to realize the error in her ways, and that she not only needs to apologize to Viktoriya, but she should try to make amends.”

“I don’t think that part’s going to be necessary,” I groused. In fact, whatever kind of
amends
Sharon Jernigan thought she needed to make would likely have something to do with attempting to save Tori’s sinful soul after she’d repented for her mistakes. Right now, what she needed more than anything was understanding and compassion, not judgment and shame, and from what I’d seen, those were her MO.

“Well, I hope she offers. And it’ll be completely up to Viktoriya whether she wants to accept what Sharon puts out there or not. Anyway, this was what I wanted to see you about. Because it was the right thing to do.”

I got up and shook his hand. “Thanks for that.”

He slapped me on the shoulder as we shook. “I’ll be praying for the two of you, son. And I’ll let you know when I’ll be giving that sermon, in case you and Viktoriya want to come. You’d be honored guests…”

Not a chance in hell that would happen.

After making sure that was all Gary had wanted from me, I got the hell out of Dodge before someone else could corner me.

When I got home, it was to find my wife with red, puffy eyes.

Mom got up from the couch, where she’d been sitting next to Tori, and excused herself.

“Want to talk?” I asked once Tori and I were alone. I was torn between hoping she would and hoping she wouldn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she’d have to say, because it might be that she was still thinking it would be best for the immigration people to take her away from me. She’d only mentioned it that one time, but everything had felt off between us since.

She shook her head.

Damn.

“You need nap before game.”

“Not if you need to talk to me about something.”

“Just want you to hold me,” she said, sniffling.

“I can do that.” I held out my hand for her.

She took it and got up, coming straight into my arms. She buried her head against my chest, burrowing into my neck. Her arms came around my waist and held me tight. The scent of her vanilla body spray tickled my nose.

After a few minutes, I took her into our bedroom. We stripped down enough that we’d be comfortable in bed for a while, and she crawled beneath the covers. I put an arm around her waist and tucked my knees behind hers. “I love you,” I murmured.

She let out a soft, humming sound.

I didn’t sleep a wink during my pregame nap time. Tori didn’t sleep either.

I simply held her. Stroked her. Wished I could see inside her mind to understand where she was coming from and what she was thinking.

Just before I had to get up and prepare myself for game time, a thought hit me, though. In her previous sessions with the counselor, Tori hadn’t shed a tear. She’d refused to talk about anything that would upset her. She’d kept her wall up, keeping all the hurts buried deep inside and not letting anyone close enough to even see what they were.

Maybe her tears were a good sign this time. Maybe they meant she was making some progress. I hoped that was the case.

AFTER SPENDING SO
much time with both Razor and his mother of late, I hated being alone. It left me too much time to get lost in my head, in all the thoughts that my sessions with my counselor had brought up.

During the visit when Razor’s mom had gone with me and sat in the waiting room, somehow the counselor had gotten me started talking about not only everything to do with my parents and the Russian Mafia but also about my time working in porn. She would ask something seemingly simple, like, “How did it make you feel inside when you were vomiting but they wouldn’t stop? And to know that millions of people around the world would get aroused watching you be abused?”

I’d tried to tell her that it wasn’t abuse, just porn, but the words felt hollow as they came out of my mouth. And the next thing I knew, I was crying so hard I could barely talk, but that didn’t stop the words from pouring from my lips.

Even though neither the counselor nor Razor’s mom had tried to force me to make another appointment, I’d done it anyway. She’d popped the top of the can of worms inside me, and they’d all spilled out; I couldn’t put them back in on my own.

So I was going back. And I supposed I would have to keep going back until I was able to function on my own again.

But now I was crying almost all the time, or at least it felt that way to me. The simplest things would set me off. Sometimes the tears would start up again for no reason at all.

When Razor had been home, I’d been able to go to him. He’d held me through the worst of it, and he hadn’t demanded I explain it to him. He was gone now, though, and I didn’t know what to do when the waves of pain tried to drag me under. I felt like I was drowning in my past.

Today was the worst so far.

Razor had been gone for three days. We’d talked every day, but it wasn’t the same.

This morning, I’d gone to rehearsal. This afternoon, I’d seen my counselor. Ever since, I’d been stuck in the muck and mire that my counseling session had brought up. Even talking to Razor for half an hour before going to bed hadn’t been enough to force all the negativity from my mind.

I lay in the big, empty bed, wishing it would swallow me whole.

I rolled over to look at the clock. It was after two in the morning. He had a game tomorrow, so I shouldn’t call him. It would wake him up, and he needed his rest.

Harper might have Tallie awake, though. It was a possibility. I sent her a text message to ask if she was up, not expecting a response. My phone dinged almost instantly.

Tallie:
Yes. Harper won’t stop fussing. What’s up?

Me:
Can I come over?

Tallie:
Sure. Bring ear plugs.

I didn’t have ear plugs, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care if the baby cried all night. I doubted I’d be getting any sleep, anyway. Within a few minutes, I threw together a bag with a change of clothes and a few toiletries for in the morning, and I was on my way out the door.

A very upset Harper and her burp cloth were both draped over Tallie’s shoulder when they met me at the door.

“Oh, hon,” Tallie said. “You look like hell.” She led me inside and locked the door behind us. “Come on. Let’s go sit and talk about it.”

I didn’t want to talk about it, particularly, since that was what had led to my crying and insomnia to begin with, but I supposed I owed Tallie an explanation for showing up in the middle of the night, so I followed her.

As soon as I took a seat, she passed Harper into my arms and situated the burp cloth on my shoulder.

“Your turn,” she said. “I’m going to make us some coffee, because I think we’re in for a long night. She’s been like this the last few days—ever since the guys left. I don’t know if she’s missing Hunter like I am or if it’s something else. I keep threatening to make Kade come over for baby duty, but he’s still scared of changing her diapers. Not sure it’d be any better than going it alone.”