Just In Time: An Alaskan Nights Novel (23 page)

“Which probably means it’s working. Ice is dirty.”

“Thanks for the medical wisdom, Florence Nightingale.”

She ignored the sarcasm and painted a heavy dose of Neosporin over the wound. Thankfully, he wasn’t bleeding as profusely, and she could see the wound didn’t look nearly as bad cleaned up.

“Here. Press this new gauze over it and Doc Cloud can fix the rest.”

“I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to see.”

“Probably so.”

Avery pulled some tape from the box and fastened the new gauze over the wound. It was a crude fix, but as she put on the last piece of tape, she was satisfied it would hold.

“That was quite a spill.”

“Mike’s faster than he looks.”

“You’re no slouch, Roman, despite having almost twenty years on the kid. What really happened?”

“He got the jump on me. There’s a lot of energy in those decades I’m spotting him.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it at all.” Avery moved and took the seat next to him. “You can keep downplaying it all you want, but there’s something wrong. I was watching you. You never saw the kid.”

Avery’s words echoed in his ears, and in the ringing void, Roman knew his moment of truth had arrived.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Even though he was right next to you.”

“Even then. I knew he was physically there, but I never saw his stick move.”

“Why not?”

Roman took a deep breath as the words lodged in his throat in a heavy lump. “I had a big injury late in the season.”

“The one against Buffalo.”

“Yep.”

“I thought you were fine.”

A hard, bitter laugh inched out around the lump. “I’ve been telling everyone I was fine. My right eye has other ideas.”

He stared out over the ice, the familiar look of the rink a taunting reminder of all he’d lost. The scent of ice and sweat surrounded him and for the first time since his injury, he felt close to tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have no peripheral vision in that eye. And the likelihood of it coming back is slim.”

“Oh my God. Roman.” Her hand gripped his. “Why haven’t you told me? Us? Does your mom know? Your grandmother?”

“Nope. No one. I wanted to see if it came back and there was no reason to get everyone upset.”

“You can’t play anymore.”

“Thanks for the news flash, Ave.”

“I mean it. If you’re this at risk in practice, you’re going to get killed in a game. You’re lucky you haven’t already.”

He knew there was concern underlying her words—he felt it in the tight grip she had on his hand and the way she rubbed his lower back with her free hand.

But in that moment, he couldn’t have cared less.

“Thanks for the fucking pep talk.”

“What?”

He stood, the anger growing even hotter as a flash of nausea welled in his stomach at the sudden movement.

“I’m well aware of my options, sweetheart. They’re figuratively crystal clear, even if I can’t fucking see them.”

“Roman. What’s wrong with you?” Hurt widened her dark eyes into large saucers but his own hurt and anger and frustration was so huge he couldn’t pull himself back.

Or calm down.

“You have no idea. What it’s like to lose something like this.”

“I don’t know about loss?”

“Not loss like this.”

The hurt mutated—transformed in an instant—and she was on her feet, her fists clenched at her sides. “Don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like to lose something. I’m sorry you’re going through this and I’m sorry this is how you’re going to end your career, but whatever you do, don’t stand there and tell me I don’t know about loss.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Not the same?” Her voice edged up a few octaves as it echoed off the metal bleachers. “The day you left here I might as well have lost a body part it hurt so bad. Whether physical or emotional, loss is loss.”

“I have no future.”

“If you truly believe that you’re a bigger ass than I’ve ever given you credit for.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, Roman.
You
don’t understand.”

Avery felt the anger recede from her body, like water down a drain, as it was replaced with something empty and cold.

Indifference.

She’d spent years upset over losing Roman—wondering if she could have made different choices. Done something different.

No more.

“The human experience includes loss, Roman. It also includes heartbreak, death and sadness. You’ve tried to ignore that for fourteen years.”

“I haven’t ignored anything.”

“Oh no? Expensive gifts? Rare visits? How would you define your behavior?”

“I’ve had a life.”

“An empty one, if all you’ve said in the last week is any indication.”

“It’s my life. My choices.”

She nodded, the underlying truth of his words harsh. “Yes.”

“You don’t understand. You didn’t grow up with a ticking clock.”

“Life has a clock.”

“Not like mine.” He shook his head and she saw him search for the words, his face a hard mask.

“No one tells you what professional athletics are like. They’re the holy grail. The brass ring. They’re also terrifying.”

“That’s true of any profession. You think I wasn’t nervous at the conference?”

“But in your case, each year brings more experience. More wisdom. Makes you better.”

“You’re better now than you were in your twenties.”

“And I’m also worse.”

Avery sensed that understanding whatever he was trying to say was important, so she left off with the questions.

“Do you know I peaked professionally at twenty-eight?” His hands clenched on his knees and his eyes misted as bitter memories rose up in his gaze. “That was the year I skated the fastest. Had the lowest body fat. Had the quickest reaction time. Every year after that has been a decline.”

“You’re still considered at the top of your game.”

“I know myself and I know I’m not. So I work harder, run harder, play harder, all in hopes of outrunning the inevitable.”

“Growing up is hard, Roman. And it’s not like people tell you it will be.”

He turned to look at her. “What do they tell you?”

“That it’s a fairy tale. That there’s some magic happy-ever-after and we’ll only find it if we find the right job or find the right person or find the right place to live. But there isn’t. There’s just life, day by day. And we have to make the most of those days.”

Avery took a deep breath and realized that was the real lesson her mother had taught her. No matter what pain and suffering Alicia had lived with, she’d never allowed herself to come out the other side.

Had never counted her blessings or enjoyed the good things in her life.

She’d only focused on the pain.

Roman stared at his skates before looking back up to meet her gaze. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not a hockey player.”

Avery thought she’d erected a wall around her heart, saving her from the fear of losing him again.

But in his words, she heard the truth.

“I know who you are. I’ve always known who you are. But if you don’t know I can’t fix that for you.”

She stood up and turned to look at him. Her heart broke in half, so like that day so many years ago when she watched his plane lift off at the airstrip.

Yet, the pain was sharper. Deeper.

And full of the knowledge that they were beyond fixing anything.

“You’re Roman Forsyth. You’re a son and grandson. You’re bright and funny and you see the world with a kindness that is rare in many people. You have a physical gift to play a game, but it’s really a small part of you. You’re good with kids. In fact, you’re good with people. And you’re loved, Roman. By all those people I just named.” She bent down and pressed a kiss on his lips. “And by me.”

“Ave.”

She stood to her full height and looked down at him. “I’ve loved you always. Before I even understood what it was, I loved you. But I love me, too. And I won’t spend my life worrying if I’m enough to make you happy.”

R
oman winced at the pull of the thread as Doc Cloud stitched up his forehead. “You okay?”

Physically, he knew he’d live.
Emotionally?
Roman thought. That was an entirely different matter.

“I’m numb. I can still feel the tugging, though.”

“I’m nearly done.”

Ken’s normally easy manner was nowhere in evidence as he moved around his office with a cold, clinical efficiency.

“I’m sorry about this morning.”

Ken didn’t say anything as he reached for a small pair of scissors and snipped off the edge of the stitches. Nor did he say anything as he reached for a fresh bandage and took the time to cover up the wound.

The silence was unnerving but Roman refused to say anything else. It seemed nothing that came out of his mouth was acceptable any longer and the apology was all he had left in him today.

“I want to check your vision.”

“All right.”

Ken moved back to a long metal counter and grabbed a small light as he turned off the overheads. Roman submitted to the test, following the small point of light, following Ken’s index finger and finally reading a series of letters, decreasing in size, off the eye chart.

“This is the secret you’ve been hiding?”

“Yep.”

“How long?”

Roman shrugged. “A few months. It was the Buffalo game late in the season.”

Ken nodded, his expression sober. “Has any of your peripheral come back?”

“Not really.”

“What does your doctor at home say?”

“He doubts it will.”

“And they keep clearing you to play?”

Roman swallowed hard. “I’ve downplayed the problem. And my doctor’s been understanding enough to cut me a bit of slack.”

“That’s unacceptable.”

“It’s professional sports. He wasn’t clearing me for this coming year, but he gave me a bit of a pass for the play-offs. Told me a few ways to overcompensate if I needed it.”

“You could have gotten hurt. Your head’s hard, but the ice is harder.”

It was clear nothing would erase Ken’s professional ire, so once again, Roman shut his mouth.

Ken crossed the room and flipped the switch. The bright wash of light had Roman wincing and the move was enough to have the slash of the good doctor’s mouth turning down once more. “Light sensitivity, too?”

“Only when it’s that big a contrast.”

“Roman. You can’t play any longer. You know that, don’t you?”

As Roman stared into the kind brown eyes he’d known for a lifetime, the truth of his fucked-up life came crashing down around his head.

“Yeah. I do know.”

“So why are you fighting it?”

“Because I don’t know how to be anything else.”

Ken shot up out of his rolling stool and paced the room. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

The sudden outburst—so unlike the man—had more impact than a swift punch. “Avery’s opinion is similar.”

“Your profession doesn’t define you. I know you’re smarter than to think otherwise.”

“Hockey gave my life a purpose.”

“If you believe that, then you’ve let the game define you.” Ken reached for a folder on the desk, ripping a sheet off the top that was secured by a paper clip. “Here’re your papers to check out. Melissa will take care of you at the front.”

At the door to the exam room, Ken turned around.

“I do have a prescription for you.”

Roman glanced up at that. “For what?”

“It’s a single dose, from one old fool to a young one. I love Julia. Have for damn near half my life. And I’ve been a raging moron to wait so long to tell her. I’d hate to see you make the same mistake. You might not be so lucky to find a woman as understanding or patient as your grandmother.”

•   •   •

Avery walked through the empty halls of the Indigo Blue, taking stock of each room as she walked past. The large conference room stood empty, the chairs all placed neatly around the long oval table. The lights were off and she smiled to herself at the image of how messy the room had been the previous tax season as Grier set up shop with Chooch and Hooch.

She moved on, passing the dining room they used for meals. The light scent of bacon and French toast wafted toward her as she took in the gleaming silver chafing dishes that stood in a row along the back serving station, clean and waiting for the next morning’s breakfast. Each chair was pushed in around the room’s tables and a fresh placemat and set of wrapped silverware waited for the next guest to sit down.

She’d chosen those placemats and the silver napkins that went with them. Had selected the framed pictures on the far wall and had encouraged Susan to invest in the coffee machine at the back so guests could get themselves a late-night cappuccino or espresso.

The hallway to the gym and sauna beckoned to her right but she kept on walking, the thought of going back to where things had begun once again with Roman too hard to bear at the moment.

Even now, days later, she could feel the touch of his fingers on her body. Could imagine herself in his arms, the lost years between them fading into nothingness.

She unlocked the door to her apartment, her thoughts still firmly in the hallway. Everything was here, at the Indigo Blue. All her memories, both good and bad.

Her life, in a series of images that flashed through her head on a photo reel.

Could she give it all up and move to L.A.?

Could she afford not to?

•   •   •

Roman nursed his beer at the bar. Where he’d enjoyed a series of good-natured hellos everywhere he’d gone in the past week, the patrons at Maguire’s were giving him a large berth.

Good.

He wanted company about as much as he wanted a root canal, and the thought of casual conversation ranked even lower.

“You want another?” Ronnie stood on the other side of the bar, his austere expression making it more than clear that small talk was equally untenable to him.

“Yep.”

A fresh beer appeared a few moments later and Roman reached for it, mindless to the light noise and lingering joviality around him.

He had fucked up.

Avery deserved better. His grandmother deserved better. Hell,
he
deserved better, and he knew it.

So why couldn’t he get his head out of his ass for more than two minutes and make the decisions that needed to be made?

A few women came up to him a short while later and asked for an autograph. He couldn’t place them, as he’d been gone when they grew up, but he could have sworn Avery babysat one of them. He scribbled out a few autographs on napkins, gave them both a quick smile and turned back to the bar.

Roman knew the gesture was rude, but in addition to avoiding small talk, he had no interest in flirting with women half his age.

He never had.

“Heard my brother kicked your ass today.” Ronnie laid another fresh beer on the bar, whisking away the second empty.

“He’s good.”

“I know he is. I think he can get a scholarship.”

Roman nodded. This was something he knew. Something he could talk about without second-guessing himself. “Where’s he looking?”

“He hasn’t made up his mind so I keep telling him to see what the scouts say and make his decision then.”

“I can talk to a few people. Let them know a trip up here is more than worth their time.”

The hard glint in Ronnie’s eye softened. “Thanks.”

A shouted order pulled Ronnie away and he walked down the bar toward a couple of guys who came in. A few minutes later they took the seats next to Roman. “You’re Roman Forsyth.”

“Yeah.”

“You had a great season.”

“Thanks.” Roman smiled. It wasn’t his Hollywood special, but it was far more gracious and kind than he felt.

“What happened to you?”

He’d blessedly forgotten his bandaged head wound and the whole thing came barreling back. “Accident at the rink.”

“Heard you’ve been playing with the kids.”

“Yep.”

“Some of ’em are pretty good.”

Roman nodded. “Some of them are.”

“Glad you got the rink back in shape.”

The ire he hadn’t quite gotten rid of exploded like a hot pan that you fling away when you finally feel the burn. “Not sure why you all needed me to come home to fix such a fucking disgrace.”

The guy nearest him put his beer down as his eyes widened. “You got a problem?”

“Yeah, I do. That rink was a mess yet this entire town let the kids play on it for years and years. What if someone had gotten hurt? What if a visiting team had gotten hurt?”

“It’s fine now, buddy.”

“No, that’s the problem,
buddy
.” Roman emphasized the words. “It’s not fine. Not to me.”

Ronnie must have noticed the fight brewing because he was around the bar and Roman felt his hands on his arm. “Why don’t you get out of here, Roman? I know Doc Cloud gave you a pretty heavy dose of sedatives for that head.”

He’d taken none of them but Ronnie’s words had their desired effect. Whatever irritation rode the bar patrons’ features faded at the news their town legend might not be feeling quite himself.

“I’m fine.”

“Still. Why don’t you let me get you out of here for a few minutes. You can go get some coffee at the diner or something.”

Although he had about four inches on Ronnie, the kid was solid. Roman also knew you didn’t tend bar and not learn how to take care of yourself.

“Come on. This round’s on me.”

“Fine.” Roman shook off his hands but walked out of the bar through the back entrance a few feet away. He’d nearly walked away—knew he needed to walk away—when he turned on Ronnie in the back parking lot.

“You like her. Why the fuck won’t you ask her out?”

Before Ronnie could even answer—his slack jaw and widened eyes evidence he knew exactly who the “she” was—Roman had his fist headed for the guy’s face.

A combination of the beer and the still-fuzzy eyesight on his right side had him grazing the punch and Ronnie came back swinging. Roman felt the hit to his jaw before he stumbled backward and landed against the wall.

“Fuck, that felt good.” Ronnie stood across from him, his arm still up.

“Good?” Whatever fight was in him faded at the broad grin that split Ronnie’s face. “And what the fuck are you smiling about?”

“First my brother gets the jump on you and now me. I’d call this a pretty good day.”

“Asshole.” Roman spit out a small mouthful of blood. The hit was more irritating than painful, especially compared to the hits he took in a game. “What’d you do that for?”

“You really need to ask?”

“I punched first, I know.”

“Oh hell, that’s not why. You have the best thing walking completely in love with you and you’re pissing it away.”

“She deserves better than me.”

“She probably does.”

Roman winced at that, the words more painful than the hit to his jaw.

“And for the record, I did ask her out. The other day at the picnic.”

“Oh.” Memories of that day and how upset she was when she left flashed in Roman’s mind. “I take it she said no.”

“Yep. Flat out, but she was nice about it.”

“That has to hurt.”

“It does, but it’s what I needed to hear.”

“There seems to be a lot of that going around.”

Roman didn’t miss Ronnie’s puzzled gaze before he pushed himself off the wall and extended his hand. “Thanks for the beer. And the ass kicking.”

“I didn’t kick your ass.”

Roman smiled—his first easy one of the day as he gripped Ronnie’s hand. “No, but by the time you’re done telling the story, you will have.”

Ronnie’s gaze softened and a wicked grin played the corners of his mouth. “So my brother didn’t really get the jump on you?”

“If that’s the story the kid wants to tell, who am I to ruin a dream?”

Roman walked off, satisfied he’d slightly redeemed himself.

•   •   •

Avery opened the door, only half surprised to see Roman. A part of her had expected he’d come. And the other half had wondered if he’d simply avoid saying anything.

“What happened to you?”

“I fell on the ice.”

“I mean the fresh bruise on your face. That wasn’t from earlier.” She gestured him into her apartment before she turned and headed for the kitchen and an ice pack.

“Ronnie.”

She turned halfway to the kitchen. “You fought with Ronnie?”

“
Fought
isn’t quite the right word.”

On a shake of her head, Avery continued on for the freezer. When she came back with the ice pack, wrapped in a towel, she slapped it into Roman’s outstretched hand. “Define it for me, then.”

“He was attempting to save me from myself.”

“Too late.” Avery heard her voice—dry as day-old toast—and realized she didn’t care how she sounded. She was still pissed.

And hurt.

About the secret of his injury. And even more hurt by the wall that had suddenly sprung up between them when they’d made so much progress toward tearing it down ever since he’d come home.

“When did this get so hard, Avery?”

“When you made it hard.”

He turned to look at her, his eyes going wide. “Me?”

“Yeah. You. This isn’t rocket science, Roman. It’s life, and while it’s got its challenges, it’s not always as hard as we make it.”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. You have to know that.”

“I do. And I love you, too. I just wonder if it’s enough.”

“It has to be.”

His mouth came down over hers as he flung the ice pack onto the floor. His hand and cheek were cold where both pressed against her face but she ignored it as the familiar heat and passion flared up between them.

She opened her mouth to kiss him, the quick slide of his tongue sending an immediate shot of lust spiraling toward her core.

This
worked.

The physical they’d figured out long ago and it was a familiar pattern to fall back into.

Why was the rest so damn hard?

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Avery promised herself she’d deal with it later. After.

For now, she wanted to give and receive in the only way they seemed to make any sense.

Roman wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled them both backward toward her bedroom. The need to sink into her and forget all the bullshit that clouded his mind rode him as he whipped off the shirt and shorts she wore.