“Appears so. And maybe…maybe a fresh start.” I laid my hands on his shoulders. “I don’t want to see her again, Pete.”
He looked away. “Yeah, I get that. I see how much you love her.”
“Loving her was a mistake.” I moved around Pete and entered my car. “I’ll tell the boys goodbye, if you think they’ll let me.”
Pete shook his head. “They’re pretty angry about the loss.”
“Yeah. Right. Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
He met my gaze. “Me, too.”
I slammed my door shut and started my car. I backed out of the spot and drove toward my small apartment, the one I’d always known was temporary.
Apparently it was, but not for the reason I’d hoped. I wasn’t moving back to my sun-filled loft with creaky hardwoods and a fabulous view of downtown Toronto. I was moving to Houston to finish my career on an expansion team that would be lucky to place above last.
My career was as dead as my marriage.
When I got home, I signed the divorce papers sitting on the kitchen counter, exhaustion blanketing me as I finished. Pulling my stuff out of my bag, I set my wallet and phone on the cardboard box I used as a nightstand.
My phone lit up as soon as I turned it on. I sneered at Shannon’s name.
I’m so sorry about tonight, Mac.
She’d broken us and nearly broken me. I couldn’t care less what she did now. I was done with her. Done with everything here.
I hit block and powered down my phone.
Chapter2
Cormac
Five years later
“I can’t believe you gave Shannon tickets to your game,” Pete said.
I shrugged. “She’ll be in town for a conference. She loves hockey.”
Over the years of seeing Shannon at my parents’ place during my infrequent visits and her continued attempts to stay connected, I’d thawed my angry stance against my ex-wife. She and I had slowly settled into a comfortable, even close relationship.
The silence built for so long, I fidgeted, shifting my phone against my ear.
“You shouldn’t be so friendly with your ex-wife,” he finally said. “Especially one who got you banished to Siberia.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Houston is opposite of Siberia—no snow, lots of people, culture…”
“You talk about the city as if you like it.”
I looked out at The Galleria and Westheimer along the Houston skyline from the second-floor windows of my Rivercrest home. With four bedrooms total on the three-plus-acre estate, my house was modest compared to those of many of my teammates who’d moved into the area. But I lived alone and didn’t see that changing, ever. The house was much more than I needed, but it was close to the arena, many of the city’s best restaurants, world-class medical facilities, and two airports. Houston’s driving culture had taken some time to get used to, but now I couldn’t imagine living in a loft in the heart of Toronto.
A small smile formed on my lips as I remembered my awe at the size of the place Shannon and I had chosen—and how it had cost more than my four-thousand-square-foot home here in Houston.
“I do like it,” I replied. “And I’ll take you to the Vietnamese place you loved so much when you visited last summer.”
I’d rarely traveled home to Toronto since the divorce. My mother hadn’t forgiven me for not working out my issues with Shannon and giving her grandbabies, and I was angry with my mother for pushing Shannon toward motherhood before she was ready—not that Shannon seemed ready even now.
“I love that place,” Pete muttered. “How did your Hockey Siberia turn out to be such a good move?”
“Maybe because Coach Whittaker made me captain.”
