Break Away (The Baltimore Banners Book 5) (4 page)

"No problem kiddo."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Taylor pushed the stick toward Emily, then focused on something in her hand. She chewed on her bottom lip, a frown of fierce concentration on her face. JP realized it was his phone, a realization confirmed a minute later when a series of electronic beeps came from somewhere in the bag tossed over Emily’s shoulder.

Taylor smiled at her aunt, then skipped over to JP and handed the phone to him. "Thanks for letting me use your phone John Peer. I sent the pictures to Aunt Emily so you don't have to worry about it."

JP glanced over at Emily, catching the frown she threw at him when she realized he now had her cell phone number. Something like a warning flashed in her eyes but he ignored it and looked at Taylor instead. "Thank you Taylor."

Emily moved to the door, the large stick held in one hand. "Taylor, it's late, we need to leave."

"But Aunt Emily—"

"No buts. You have an early game, you need to get to sleep if you want to play." The veiled warning didn't have the effect JP was certain Emily had been hoping for. Taylor rolled her eyes and giggled, then followed her aunt to the door. Emily held it open for her niece, barely sparing JP a glance before disappearing through it.

JP stood there for a few long seconds, his brow lowered in thought.

"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" Mat's voice interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder, saw the other man watching him with undisguised curiosity.

"Mathias, what are your plans for the morning?"

"What? Sleeping. It's an off day tomorrow, so definitely sleeping."

"No you're not. You're going to a game with me."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'll pick you up at six."

"In the morning? Are you fucking crazy?"

JP shook his head and made a tsk noise. "Language, my friend. You need to be careful, especially tomorrow."

"JP, what are you talking about?"

"We're going to a hockey game in the morning. A youth hockey game." JP laughed at the expression on Mat's face then walked away, leaving the younger player sputtering behind him.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

"It's too fucking early for this shit."

JP nudged Mat in the side with his elbow, hard. "Language. There's kids around."

Mat grunted and rubbed his side, looking around in bleary-eyed curiosity at the small crowd around them. "I'm going to get some coffee."

"Really?" JP held up the two large cups in his hands. "We stopped for coffee. Why didn't you get one then?"

"Because I wasn't awake then. Where are you going to be?"

JP glanced around, his eyes narrowing as he searched the small crowd on the bleachers. Emily was sitting on a bench near the top, slightly apart from everyone else.

And by herself.

"Up there. Don't bother joining me." JP ignored Mat's muttered curse and made his way to the other side of the rink, carefully climbing over the bleacher seats so the coffee wouldn't spill. He knew the instant Emily saw him. Her entire body stiffened and her shoulders hunched forward, like she was preparing to make an escape. He ignored the body language and made his way over to her, holding out one cup as a peace offering.

Wariness filled her eyes as she stared at him. For one awful moment, JP thought she'd refuse, that she'd actually get up and walk away. But she finally reached out and took the cup, carefully holding it between her gloved hands. He sat down next to her, probably too close for her comfort. She didn't move away, which he took as a good sign.

"It's a latte. I remember you used to drink them." He didn't look over at her, almost afraid to. Emily didn't say anything, just removed the stopper from the lid and took a sip. Her body seemed to relax and JP breathed a small sigh of relief.

He watched the game for a few minutes, surprised at how good some of the players were. It was slower than what he was used to, some of the plays filled with mistakes. Of course, this was youth hockey, not the professional leagues—the expectations were supposed to be different.

"Why are you here?"

JP glanced over at Emily. Her eyes were focused in front of her, her attention on the game. He shifted on the cold bench and took a swallow of his own coffee, ignoring her question. "Which one is Taylor?"

"Number 44. That's her, there." Emily motioned with her head as the players lined up for face-off.

"She's a forward, eh?"

"What?"

"She plays forward."

"Oh. Yeah." Emily took another sip of coffee and shifted, just the tiniest bit. The move placed a few more inches between them. JP didn't hesitate in the least, just slid over as well, quickly closing the distance Emily had placed between them. She tried to move again and he reached out, clasping a hand lightly on her knee.

"We can do this all morning until there's no bench left."

Emily sighed, a sound that almost resembled a growl, and brushed his hand from her leg. She didn't look at him when she repeated her first question. "Why are you here?"

"I thought you might want some coffee."

She didn't reply, which caught JP off-guard. He had expected a caustic remark, a biting comment. Something. But Emily just sat there, her eyes facing forward, her hands wrapped around the cup.

JP turned back to the game, watching the kids as they skated back and forth, sometimes tripping or stumbling. Someone passed the puck to Taylor and he watched, impressed, as the girl skated down the ice. He slid to the edge of the bench, watching as she neared the net and stopped to shoot. A kid from the other team, a boy at least a head taller, skated up behind her and crosschecked her, sending her stumbling and ruining the shot. The ref blew a whistle, the shrillness splitting the air.

JP jumped from his seat. "That's a cheap shot! Pick on someone your own size,
merde de poulet
."

Coffee splashed over his hand as something tugged on his arm. He looked down, surprised to see Emily pulling on the sleeve of his leather jacket, a look of embarrassment and something else—amusement, maybe—crossing her face.

"Sit down."

"But that was a dirty hit. And picking on a girl! He should—"

"Sit. Down." Emily pulled on his arm again, harder this time until he reluctantly lowered himself back to the cold metal bench. "You're going to get thrown out."

"What? Nonsense." He wiped his hand along his leg, back and forth until the spilled coffee was gone.

"Not nonsense. There's a zero tolerance policy in this league." Emily looked at him, actually looked at him, her blue eyes so clear and deep he thought about willingly drowning himself in their depths. Then her brows lowered in a frown. She shook her head and looked away, mumbling something he couldn't quite catch. That was when he realized she had been speaking the entire time.

And he hadn't heard a word.

He lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip, the coffee barely lukewarm now. Should he ask her to repeat herself? Or would that be admitting he had been so preoccupied that he hadn't heard her in the first place? He had just decided to hell with it and was ready to ask her to repeat whatever she had said when she spoke again. The words were soft, so soft only he could hear, but her voice was harsh.

"You need to leave, Jean-Pierre."

His name rolled like sweet honey from her mouth, despite the harshness of her voice. His heart skipped, one painful beat, at hearing it. He had forgotten how soft her voice was, forgotten how just his name on her lips could heat his blood. Five years had gone by, but his reaction was the same.

No. His reaction was even more intense than it had been all those years ago.

Then he cursed himself for being a fool, for acting like a lovesick little boy eager for the tiniest shred of attention. Grown men didn't act that way. Grown men didn't turn into putty at the sound of their names.

That didn't mean he was going to leave. He took another swallow of coffee and stared straight ahead, pretending he hadn't heard Emily. She sighed, a long exhale of frustration. No doubt ready to ask him to leave again.

"Taylor's parents. They are not here?"

Was it his imagination, or did Emily stiffen even more beside him? No, it wasn't his imagination. He risked a glance in her direction and was surprised to see her jaw clenched. Then she sighed again, her body deflating. She looked down at the cup in her hands, almost as if she was trying to decide what to tell him.

"Taylor's parents are divorced."

JP nodded but didn't say anything. It happened, of course. Too often, he thought. People jumped into relationships without thinking things through. No wonder so many got divorced. That was just one of the reasons he, himself, stayed away from relationships. It was much easier to bounce from fling to fling. No commitments, no worries.

A small voice somewhere in the back of his head laughed at him, calling him a liar. He squirmed on the bench and pushed the voice and the thoughts away. Certainly they weren't the right kind of thoughts to be having as he sat here next to Emily, trying to—

Trying to what? He realized he didn't know what he was trying to do. It was just after seven in the morning, a rare off day. So why was he here? What was he trying to do?

He didn't like the direction those questions were leading him so he pushed them to the back of his mind as well. Better to focus on something simple, mundane.

"Do they not come to the games? Taylor's parents?"

"No." Emily took a deep breath and looked over at him, just a quick glance. "Taylor's dad is...well, let's just say things didn't end well and that it's been a rough few years. Taylor doesn’t have much contact with him."

JP nodded but said nothing. What kind of man would abandon his own child? Something icy trailed a scratchy path along his spine, something almost like guilt. No, this wasn't the same. Not even close. JP swallowed and looked over at Emily again, almost expecting her to look at him in accusation. But her focus was on the game.

"And her mom?"

"Monica is a nurse. She works a lot of nights and overtime. She was going to come this morning but ended up working late last night."

"So you take care of your niece?"

This time Emily turned, a frown on her face as fire flashed in the depths of her eyes. "What do you want JP? Why all the questions? Why the sudden interest?"

"I’m only making conversation."

"Really? You expect me to believe that? Why are you even here?"

"I—" JP paused, his attention darting to the ice. He stood up, then reached down to pull Emily to her feet as Taylor made a breakaway and headed straight for the net. She stopped just in front of the net, pulled back with her stick, then shot the puck straight past the goalie.

JP let out a loud whoop that was barely covered by the brief blare of the horn that signaled the goal. The handful of spectators clapped, the sound almost lost in the cavernous rink.

Taylor skated around the net, one leg kicked out straight in front of her, the other leg bent beneath her. She waved her stick twice, then made a pumping motion with her fist before straightening and heading to the bench.

JP laughed, the sound out of place. He looked over at Emily, saw her frowning at him, accusation on her face. He laughed even harder at the look.

"It's not funny."

"I didn't say it was."

"It's not even cute."

"No, it is definitely cute."

"Stop laughing."

"I'm not." JP struggled to suppress the chuckle and failed, which only earned him another annoyed look. He sat back, still fighting his laughter.

"Did you see that shot? That was pretty good." Mat worked his way over to them, his long legs easily climbing over each seat. "And that little celly after she scored? She almost looked like you, JP."

JP laughed again, bending over before he could catch his breath. Emily folded her arms in front of her, stiffening once more.

"It's. Not. Funny." A few seconds went by before she slowly relaxed. JP watched, astounded when the corners of her mouth tilted in a small smile. The smile was brief, quickly disappearing, but JP could tell she was fighting it, that she was probably biting the inside of her cheek to keep it from coming back.

Desire, hot and instant, flooded him, settling heavy in his groin. He groaned and looked away, shifting on the hard bench. Not here. Not now.

Mat took a seat next to him, then leaned across to speak with Emily, completely unaware of the battle JP was raging with his cock. "So where did she learn that move?"

"I have no idea. Apparently she's been watching a little too much television this past week. I'll have to make sure that stops."

"Oh? I thought she was your niece."

JP wanted to push Mat away—preferably to the bottom of the bleachers. From the back. But Mat kept leaning across him, talking to Emily like he wasn't even sitting there. And Emily was talking back to him.

Apparently she only had a problem talking to him.

"She is. But I live with her and my sister, helping out."

"I see. That's nice, family helping out—"

"
Fils de pute
!
Can you maybe get out of my lap,
connard
?" JP pushed against Mat, easing him away and off to the side. Mat knew exactly what JP had said. He gave him an odd look as he leaned back.

"You talk about my mouth? Really?"

"
Ta gueule
. I don't even know why I brought you with me."

"Neither do I."

"Just sit down—"

Emily stood so quickly that JP clamped his mouth shut. Without bothering to look at either of them, she made her way to the bottom of the bleachers and walked away. He turned back to Mat. "Where is she going?"

"Probably to the concession stand. It's intermission." Mat stretched his legs in front of him and leaned back on his elbows, his head moving from side-to-side as he looked around. "It's been a while since I've been to a youth hockey game."

"Yes, me too." JP stood, planning on following Emily. But Mat brought one arm up, effectively blocking him. His friend's gaze was intent, studying him with a seriousness JP had never seen before.

"What are you doing, JP?"

"Getting something to eat."

"No you're not." Mat looked to his left, no doubt watching as Emily disappeared around the corner, out of sight. "So who is she?"

"A friend."

"A friend?" Mat grinned, the look almost boyish on his face. "You drag me to a youth hockey game at an ungodly early hour on an off Saturday, then tell me she's a friend. I call bullshit."

"Think what you want." JP climbed over the seat in front of him, planning on leaving Mat behind.

"You've become a stalker, JP."

"What?"

"Look at you. You're ready to chase after her when any moron can see she wants nothing to do with you."

The words cut, sharp and deep. Did Emily really want nothing to do with him? No, he couldn't believe that. She may not be happy with his tactics, true, but certainly that was all there was to it. They had a history together. Maybe not the best one, but still a history. Mat must be wrong. Mat
was
wrong.