Hawke Page 9

Chapter 10

  Vale

  The ride home from Hawke's party is tense and silent. Todd sits beside me as I drive, slouched down and sullen. He caught Hawke's inference loud and clear, and I imagine he's all kinds of confused.

  Join the club.

  My dad has no clue what's going on, but he knew by my sudden demand we leave and the silence that lays heavy between Todd and me that something's wrong. I suppose I'll have to fill him in later after Todd and I talk.

  I could strangle Hawke for outing us to Todd. While my feelings may be jumbled, and plain bat-shit crazy, the last thing in this world I want is to hurt Todd. He doesn't deserve it, not with the way he's already been feeling about our relationship.

  As I pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex, my heart starts racing from the anticipation of confrontation. I hate it, always have. I have no clue what to even say to Todd, and even less of a clue as to what I really want, but I suppose it's time for me to put my feelings under a microscope and figure out what the hell is going on with me. I need to either commit to Todd or cut him loose...which, apparently, is what Hawke thinks I'm destined to do.

  He called me disloyal. Not in the sense of cheating, but he's saying I'm disloyal to love and trust.

  He called me disloyal and he's absolutely right, but he's also a hypocrite. While I may have bailed with uncertainty over the strength of what we had all those years ago, he's the one that slammed the door on us permanently. Maybe he feels justified. Maybe he thought to give me a taste of my own medicine, so I would never forget my lesson on the consequences of impetuosity.

  I pull into a spot close to our outside stairwell, and my dad is already opening the door before I can turn the car off.

  "I'm really tired," he says before stepping out. "I'm going to hit the bed. I'll see you kids in the morning."

  " 'Night, Dad," I murmur as I cut the engine. He closes the door and the overhead lamp fades, throwing the car into semidarkness because the security light on the stairwell is broken.

  My mind spins with how to begin with Todd, but I'm lost without a compass. It's ironic. When I think about how I broke things off with Hawke, I was just so sure of myself. Unforeseen circumstances threw me for a loop, but I came to a rapid decision to alter the course of my life. To my way of thinking--which, granted, was muddied with grief and terror--there truly was no option other than to part ways with Hawke.

  Things aren't so easy where Todd's concerned, and the only thing muddying up my current relationship is one bitter ex-boyfriend who doesn't seem to want to share any responsibility for the demise of what we had.

  Just ironic.

  "So, you want to tell me what Hawke is to you?" Todd says from the gloom of the passenger seat.

  "Just a friend," I say quietly, but I intend to give him the full truth. "We were more, though...back in Sydney. We dated."

  "For how long?"

  "Four years; started when I was sixteen years old."

  Todd coughs, clears his throat. "Why did you break up?"

  I don't answer him, because I can't. It's not a story that I feel comfortable sharing with him, especially when I haven't ever shared the reason with anyone other than Avery and my father.

  "The reason is private," I say carefully as I turn in the seat slightly to face him. "But that was a long time ago. Hawke and I went our separate ways and haven't spoken with each other until we both landed here at the Cold Fury. He's angry at me, and I suppose he feels he has the right. Hell, he does have the right, but I'm angry at him too. I'm trying to set that aside, though, because I can't afford to get caught up in the negativity of it all. I don't have room for that in my life."

  "And do you have room for me in your life?" he asks as his hand reaches out to take mine.

  "Of course I do," I say automatically. Almost like a robot.

  And I realize that's a true statement. I do have room in my life for him, but he didn't ask the right question. The one that would have me really hesitating is if I want him in my life. That, I'm not so sure about.

  And that's because Hawke complicates things for me.

  He's dredged up so many emotions these past two weeks, I feel near to bursting from it all.

  Anger, bitterness, yearning, sadness, desire.

  Yes, there was desire tonight in his bathroom. There was a moment when I was all in. Where I might have even given myself to him. But when he started in on the tattoo and reminded me of my disloyalty, I realized Hawke didn't want me.

  He wanted to punish me.

  So I beat him to the punch and let him get a quick peek of what I refer to as my rose garden. That quick look was enough to make him stumble backward and away from me with a look of shocked disdain on his face. I quickly dropped my skirt, because if he looked closely, he'd see his name was still there. I couldn't bear to cover it up, instead merely asking the artist to camouflage it so I would always have a tiny piece of him with me.

  "Listen, your dad has another MRI coming up this week, right?" Todd asks in a complete change of subject.

  "Yeah," I say hesitantly, not sure where he's going. "Wednesday."

  "And didn't you say if it's under control, they'll probably do another three months after that?"

  "That's right."

  "Well, I've been thinking...why not just move back to Columbus? Bring your dad, because I have plenty of room at my house. You both can stay there, and just fly back for the follow-up visits. I mean, if the tumor is shrinking and he's doing well, there's really no reason for you to stay here. You won't have rent to pay. I'm sure you'll be able to get another job quickly...maybe even back at Ohio State. What do you say?"

  What do I say?

  My entire being rebels against the idea, so what in the fuck do I say to that offer?

  "Todd," I say softly, giving his hand a squeeze. "I just don't think that's feasible."

  "Why not?" he asks, leaning in toward me, trying to search my eyes in the darkness.

  "For a lot of reasons. My dad...he needs to be here near Duke in case something happens."

  "But if the tumor is under control, and he's doing well--"

  "I have a job," I cut him off gently. "I can't just quit my job. That would be unprofessional."

  "They created that job for you," Todd reminds me with no tact whatsoever. "You'd be freeing up their budget."

  And damn, he's right about that. I'd probably be doing the Cold Fury a favor, adding my measly forty-one-thousand-dollar salary to their profit margin.

  "Without a job, I'd still be living off of you," I point out desperately, with the utter realization that I'm scrabbling for excuses. "You know how I feel about that."

  "Then what would you say if I asked you to marry me?" Todd says quietly. "Would you have a problem with it if you were my wife?"

  I drop Todd's hand like it's a hot potato and rear backward. "Is that a proposal?" I ask, stunned beyond all belief.

  "Not the most romantic, I know, but I do love you," he says, his face dropping down to stare at his lap.

  "But...we've only been going out for a few months."

  "Six," he supplies as he raises his face back up to mine. My eyes have adjusted to the gloom of the night, and I don't miss the unfettered hope in his eyes. "But who's counting?"

  I clasp my hands tightly together, almost in a desperate attempt to cling to myself for strength and clarity. Todd has laid it all out on the line. He's declared his love for me. He's offered me marriage and a stable home. He's invited my father to live with us. On its face, it seems the perfect solution, and yet...my mind still races trying to figure a reason to decline.

  What sane woman would pass up an offer like that?

  Perhaps one that still has unresolved feelings for another?

  Is there something there to be realized with Hawke? With so much anger and bitterness, betrayal and loss between us, could the reason I'm so hesitant with Todd be because my destiny actually belongs to another man?

  There's no clear-cut answer, because so far, ou
tside of extending a courteous olive branch to me in light of my dad's condition, Hawke's shown me that he's still very hurt and pissed at me. I know showing him that tattoo tonight probably widened the void between us. If I break things off with Todd, there's no guarantee that Hawke is the one I'm supposed to be with.

  And besides that, pinning my hopes for a future on a man isn't something that I'm cool with. That goes for Todd's unseemly marriage proposal as much as it does for trying to rekindle a flame with someone from my past. Vale Campbell doesn't need to depend on a man for anything.

  So take Hawke out of the picture. Remove him completely and let's just say the most we'll ever be is common friends because of my father. In fact, let's just pretend he doesn't even exist in my world.

  Now how do I feel about Todd?

  --

  "Hey, kiddo," my dad says softly as he walks into the living room. He's got on his old, ratty plaid robe over a pair of gray pajama bottoms. "Want to talk?"

  It's almost three A.M. and I haven't been able to go to sleep. My mind is still all sorts of jumbled with the way things went down tonight.

  "Todd and I broke up," I say glumly.

  "I'm sorry," my dad says as he comes to sit by me on the couch, giving my knee a squeeze.

  "I'm not," I say softly, but then amend. "I mean...I'm sorry I hurt him, but it was the right thing to do."

  "What happened?"

  "He proposed to me."

  "Oh," my dad says, sounding faintly surprised but maybe a little expecting that. "You said no, I assume?"

  "I don't love him," I say.

  "Because you love someone else." He hazards a guess.

  I turn to face him on the couch, throwing my arm over the back. I give him a patronizing smile. "No, Dad. I don't love another. What Hawke and I had...that love...it dried up a long time ago."

  "But he played some role in your decision," he pushes at me, and is that hope in his eyes?

  "No, he didn't," I admonish, bringing him back down to earth. "He's stirred up some feelings, for sure, but that's all anger and bitterness. I think I realized that Todd just wasn't the one for me. When he put the proposal out there, I knew deep in my gut I didn't love him. Not like he deserves, anyway."

  "Is he okay?" my dad asks kindly. I know he wasn't overly crazy about Todd, but he didn't dislike him. And he did like him a heck of a lot more than some of my other boyfriends throughout the years, though I know the top spot has always been reserved for Hawke in my dad's mind. He knows why I broke things off with Hawke, and he never minced words with me when he told me it was a dumbass move. But he also saw me go through major heartbreak when I reached out to Hawke and he turned his back on me.

  "I think he's okay," I say, referencing his question about Todd. "I took him to a hotel by the airport. He's going to fly out in the morning. He actually said he'd be there for me if I changed my mind. I think he's holding out hope that once things settle down with you, I might come back to Columbus."

  My dad is silent, his face lowered and his fingers playing with the belt of his robe. When he looks back up at me, his eyes are sad and weary. "You know, Vale, I never wanted my illness to impinge on your life."

  I react instinctively, pushing up and lunging toward my father, throwing my arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his neck. "Stop it. You are not impinging on my life. We're in this together...thick and thin. There's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be than by your side, so I don't ever want to hear that out of your mouth again."

  His arm comes up to pat my back. I give him a squeeze and pull back, looking at his face whiskered with gray. He smiles at me and nods his head in acknowledgment. "Thick and thin."

  "We're agreed," I say with a grin. "Now come on, let's get to sleep. I've got some midmorning appointments at the gym and I need a few hours of shut-eye."

  We both push up off the couch, my dad looking a little wobbly, but he rights himself.

  "You okay?" I ask, my hand going to his lower back.

  "Yeah, just a little dizzy for a minute," he says, shaking his head slightly. "But I'm fine. Got my bearings back."

  "Okay," I say dubiously, letting him precede me down the hall toward the bedrooms. I watch his gait carefully, and he looks fine.

  When we reach our doors, which are on opposite sides of the hall, Dad turns to look at me. "You know, Vale...don't discount Hawke."

  "Excuse me?" I say, blinking at him in surprise.

  "I know you said he played no part in your decision to break up with Todd, but don't discount that there could be something there. You were both so young, and you made some bad decisions, but there was real love. I'd even say given the strength of the bitterness you both have, there might still be some underneath...hidden deep."

  I want to shake my head and deny my dad's words, but there's a ring of truth to it. We're both nursing hurt feelings, and to be hurt, you have to have the capacity to care.

  It's definitely something to think about.

  Chapter 11

  Hawke

  I'm juiced.

  Totally amped up.

  It's only the first preseason game, but when it comes to stepping back out onto the ice for official competition, it feels like a Stanley Cup game to me every time.

  I'm nearing the end of my shift, defending against the Bobcats' power play. The Cold Fury is up 4-2 with just under six minutes left to play in the game, and I'm determined they're not going to score here. I pass my stick from hand to hand, sweeping it on the ice as the center passes to his left winger and back again, attempting to cut off any pass they want to attempt through the crease.

  I get lucky too when the center doesn't put enough zip on the biscuit and I lunge for it, tapping it from its trajectory and into the boards. Unfortunately, not enough to knock it past the blue line, so I hustle after it.

  I reach the puck a millisecond after the center, who wedges himself between me and my prize. We scrabble, throwing elbows and shoulders and even kicking at it with our skates to expel it out. It's a hard-fought battle, probably not lasting more than a few seconds, but starting to wind me since I was at the end of my shift anyway.

  I really don't even see it coming, and it probably wasn't intentional, but it still hurts like fuck when the dude's stick pops upward, the end catching me just above my left eyebrow. I don't feel the pain at first, but red, blurred vision lets me know I have blood streaming down my face. The ref blows the whistle and play stops as the penalty is called.

  The pain hits me next, and I bend over at the waist, my clear eye watching as a stream of blood hits the ice and freezes. Within mere moments, a towel is covering the cut and I hear Vale say, "All right...let's get you off the ice."

  Her hand stays steady at my back as I lift up straight, taking the towel in my own hand to hold it in place. She walks alongside me gingerly while I skate to the bench, which has an exit door on one end that will lead back to the locker room. A few of the players slap me on the shoulder as I walk past. Grant Izerman, a second-line defenseman yells out, "Get stitched up so you can come back out and kick his pansy ass."

  I can't help but chuckle, because that's exactly what I intend to do. A tiny cut sure as shit isn't stopping me. Hell, I played with a fractured jaw three years ago for two periods, only accepting a face guard when the AT wouldn't let me return to the ice without it.

  It's funny, even through the layers of my gear and thick sweater, I can actually feel the loss of Vale's hand when it drops away so I can precede her through the exit door. I've been wanting to talk to her, not only to find out what she meant about loyalty to herself, but because I've been feeling increasingly guilty about the way I handled things with her.

  I practically accosted her in my bathroom, knowing full well she had a boyfriend, then outed her to said boyfriend about the nature of our prior relationship, which I know put Vale in a bad situation. I don't feel guilty about Todd, but I do feel guilty about Vale having to deal with the fallout. Even more so because I had purposefully se
t myself on a mission of not adding any more stress to her life right now. I had no fucking business touching her or demanding answers, because in the grand scheme of things, what does it fucking matter? Vale and I are over and there is nothing she could possibly say to me that will erase the pain, nor let me forget all the things I lost. I know I should just be happy with reconnecting with her and Dave, so that's what I need to focus on. I need to let Vale be...let her get married to her toad of a boyfriend and have lots of little babies that hopefully look like Vale and who can play inside their white picket fence. This is something I need to do and let go of the other shit, and we'll both be happier for it.

  Vale slides past me, entering the locker room and heading over to the training/medical room set up for the visiting team. Our travel doc, Herman Collins, is waiting for me, having been watching the action from a TV feed back here.

  "Up on the table," he says briskly, and I watch with my one good eye as Vale starts unloading the necessary supplies from the travel case. I hop up onto the table, and in just under five minutes, Dr. Collins has my injury evaluated, lidocaine injected, and the cut closed with four stitches. The entire time, I watch Vale, who keeps her eyes solidly pinned on Dr. Collins's hands as they work me.

  I wait for her to give me a glance--not expecting any conversation due to the presence of Dr. Collins--but just something to show me what she might be feeling. I wait and wait for it, but it never comes. The minute the last suture is placed, Vale heads out of the locker room to get back to the ice.

  --

  The elevator door opens to the hotel lobby and I file out along with a few of the other players. We decided to hit up a local pizza joint that supposedly serves the world's best deep-dish pies known to man, although I'm sure every Chicago pizza place boasts the same thing. We're all buzzed after our final 4-2 victory, and despite the slight throbbing in the cut above my eye, I'm high on the win.

  I'm heading out with Grant and Max, although a few of the other guys said they'd meet us up there. I imagine we'll stuff our guts and then head somewhere for a few beers after.

  As we head through the lobby, a small group of fans wearing Cold Fury jerseys waits for us, clamoring for autographs just before the large carousel door that leads outside. We stop and oblige, signing jerseys and scraps of paper. When I look up to the next woman waiting, my eyes slide past her face and into the restaurant that sits off the hotel lobby. I see Vale in there, eating a salad by herself and scanning something on her phone, which lies on the table beside her plate.