If she’d let me. If she could see past her hurt and realize I wasn’t her father.
Chapter52
Keelie
Tears blurred my vision too much to continue driving. I pulled over and leaned my head on my arms. The sobs shook my body, causing everything to ache.
Damn Cormac for his lies. If he’d been honest about his relationship with his ex—that he was using me to get her back, I guess—I would have made different choices. As in, I never would have let him into my life. Into my heart.
Seeing Cormac embracing Shannon gutted me. I’d watched my future spin out into a hazy, scary blackness I couldn’t control.
I rested my cheek on the steering wheel, enjoying the coolness against my overheated cheeks. I tucked my hair behind my ears and took a deep breath. My phone rang with Ida Jane’s ringtone. I snatched it up and answered. “If Cormac asked you to talk to me, I’m hanging up.”
“Where are you?” Ida Jane asked.
“I don’t know.” Listlessly, I looked around. “I’m going to my house, I guess.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Ida Jane said.
“Don’t bother,” I said, tears clogging my throat. Good thing I’d never mentioned my plan to sell my house. I wouldn’t move—especially not in with Cormac.
I’d spent my entire life unloved.
I refused to submit to such a life in the future.
Chapter53
Cormac
Clenching my jaw, I stared up at the flag, trying to get my head in the game. If we beat the Predators, we’d play Montreal in the first round of the playoffs.
I wanted a rematch against Dukovsky, and I planned to win again. While I was quite pleased he hadn’t taken the Cupandmy ex-wife back in the day, I didn’t feel as if I’d earned that championship. I hadn’t suited up after game five, and my old team had ground out a win in game seven.
But this time, I was captain. I was the veteran the others turned to. So when the puck dropped, I was ready. Nik won the drop and shot the puck toward me. I skated hard around Evanovich, who tried to high-stick me.
The whistle stopped play, and we all groaned. Damn, we needed some momentum.
My chance came midway through the second period when Maxim slid me a sweet little wrist-flick. I tapped the puck down, moving my stick to keep Evanovich off the prize, and skated around the back of the net. Their goalie sank low, so I shot high and hard—right over his helmet into the back of the net! I lifted my arms, cheering. And Evanovich slammed me into the boards.
I grunted. He was pushing the boundaries, ready for a fight.
“Ignore him,” Nik said, patting my back.
“Hell of a shot,” Maxim yelled.
Adam nodded from our goal, his grin obvious even through the mesh of his mask.
“First blood of the playoffs!” Cruz hooted.
Nashville pushed back hard, but Adam blocked their two attempts on goal, and then Nik managed a second goal.
Just like he had with me, Evanovich came in low and hard, slamming him into the boards. Nik grimaced, grabbing his ribs, but the refs were already there, pushing the players apart.
“He needs to be dealt with,” I snarled as I came over the boards for a rest. The frustration and anger in the game mirrored my inability to sort out the situation with Keelie. I hated feeling impotent.
That’s why I lured Evanovich into another dirty hit. Even before the shock of his mass slamming me into the boards reverberated, I’d pulled off my gloves. I enjoyed slamming my fist into his cheek…maybe a little too much.
Unlike the lasttime I got into an altercation, this time my team thumped my shoulders and back. Not gonna lie—felt good to know they were proud of me.
