Once Upon a Power Play (17 page)

Of course, life was rarely fair. She knew that as well as anyone.

“Anyway,” Bash said, straightening to his full height. “I just thought you should know the whole story, not just what they print on Page Six.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, not sure if she felt empowered or worse for the wear now that she was armed with additional insight into Ryan’s actions.

Bash stepped onto the sidewalk and headed west. He took a few steps and turned, as if he’d just remembered something important.

“Of course, anyone who knows Ryan and knows what he’s about would never believe the stuff they write in the papers.” He tilted his head, studying her. “I have to be honest, I was pulling for you. You’re good for Ryan. I’ve never seen him that happy before, but if one bullshit article in the tabloids is all it takes for you to cut and run, maybe it’s best you part ways now because you don’t deserve him.”

Talk about a sucker punch. Right. To. The. Gut. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She stood openmouthed as she watched him walk away whistling.

Chapter Twenty-One

C
hloe stared at the invitation in her hand, feeling a hell of a lot like the cowardly lion. Where was her courage when she needed it most? MIA, apparently. Or maybe hidden at the bottom of a nice bottle of Merlot. Now there was an idea. Glancing at the little wine rack on her kitchen counter, she shook her head, casting off the spineless thought. She was a grown ass woman. She had a handle on this. Didn’t she?

Besides, what was the big deal? It was just a peewee hockey game. A peewee hockey game her ex would be coaching. Maybe. She sighed, knowing that no matter how badly she wanted to skip, she couldn’t possibly. The kids from Garden of Dreams had invited her, and she didn’t want to let them down. She’d distanced herself from the foundation after her nuclear breakup with Ryan, knowing if she continued her affiliation the odds of running into him at events were pretty good. Broken heart or not, it had been selfish of her. She desperately missed the work and the kids. Judging by the invite in her hand, they were missing her, too.

Tonight they’d be playing hockey at The Garden, coached by the Rangers themselves. Despite the Rangers’ involvement, it wasn’t exactly billed as standing room only. More likely small and intimate with just the families of the young players and a few select guests in attendance. Truthfully, she was honored to have received an invite. It would be fun. As long as she could steer clear of Ryan. Maybe he wouldn’t even be there. How many coaches did they need anyway? It wasn’t like he volunteered at every Rangers event. And there were twenty-two other players on the team.

Solidifying her resolve, she grabbed her purse and made her way downstairs, where she set out on foot toward the subway. Her belly churned at the thought of facing Ryan. It had been a few weeks since she’d seen him. Sixteen days and four hours, to be exact. Not that she was counting or anything.

She’d been doing her damnedest to avoid watching his games. Still, it was hard not to hear the snippets of water cooler talk about how he was struggling although the team was moving up in the ranks. The sports blogs were speculating his calf hadn’t fully healed, but she knew better. It wasn’t his leg that was the problem. It was his head. Maybe even his heart. God knew hers was hurting.

When she arrived at the station, she descended the stairs, reaching the platform just in time to catch the N train to Times Square, where she’d hop the red line over to Penn Station.

Unable to stop thinking about what Bash had said, she settled into her seat, wondering for the hundredth time if she’d made a mistake. Was Ryan’s career in jeopardy because of her? Would they trade him at the end of the season? Would he be forced to leave the city? Had her toxic dating history caused her to overreact, ruining the best thing that had ever happened to her? It wasn’t like he’d actually kissed Kelsey. He hadn’t cheated on her or left her or traded her in.

If what Bash said was true, Ryan had actually
chosen
her. And in his own misguided way, he’d tried to protect her from Kelsey’s vindictive actions, just as he’d protected her in the bodega on the night they first met. Because that’s who Ryan was. How could she fault him for that? It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

Shit.

She
loved
Ryan Douglas.

The realization hit her like a mob of bargain hunting fashionistas at a sample sale. Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to ignore the pulse-pounding, hand-shaking wave of panic that crashed through her. There was no denying it. She’d been trying—unsuccessfully—for weeks. She glanced at her watch. Sixteen days and five hours, to be exact. Which was exactly why moving on and putting Ryan in the rearview mirror was proving easier said than done. Somewhere along the way she’d fallen for him, making the sting of his betrayal that much sharper. Whether he realized it or not, he’d ripped out her heart. The one thing she’d never meant to give him.

The train slid into Times Square, jarring Chloe from her thoughts. She sighed. There would be plenty of time for self-recrimination later. Climbing to her feet, she made the transfer and arrived at Penn Station with plenty of time to spare.

Squaring her shoulders, she approached the main entrance of The Garden and presented her invitation for admission. Following the attendant’s instructions, she made her way down the empty corridor, her footsteps echoing in the empty space. Déjà vu swept over her as she thought about her private visit to The Garden with Ryan. Her resolve faltered. She shouldn’t have come. She wasn’t ready. Not even close. Turning on her heel, she found herself face to face with Becca.

“You’d better hurry,” the other woman said, linking their arms and leading Chloe forward. “The game will be starting soon and the kids were so excited to hear you RSVP’d!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she responded, forcing a shaky smile. “Who’s coaching the game?”

Becca beamed at her with barely contained enthusiasm. “Wright and Kristiansen are coaching the red team. Skarkowski and Knight have the blue team. And Bischoff and Miller are officiating. It should be lots of fun!”

Disappointment washed over her at the realization Ryan wouldn’t be on the ice. Which was silly. An hour ago, she’d been afraid to face him. Really, it was better this way. The game was about the kids, not her disastrous love life, and the last thing she wanted to do was add drama to their special night. Following Becca to their seats, she sighed with relief when the other woman chose to sit at the far end of the aisle, near the player’s tunnel.

Once everyone was seated, the big screen came to life, introducing the two teams. Each of the player’s profiles were flashed on the screen as they made their way out of the tunnel and onto the ice. Chloe and Becca were on their feet, cheering for the kids and high-fiving the blue team as they passed. They had to stretch to reach the kids down below, but it was worth the effort to see the smiles lighting their faces as they got the official NHL treatment. Chloe noticed some of the parents doing the same at the red team’s runway.

The small crowd remained standing through the national anthem and the first faceoff, not taking their seats until the game was well underway. Chloe cheered shamelessly, rooting for both teams. The kids were totally pumped, not that she blamed them. They were getting a once in a lifetime opportunity, playing hockey at The Garden.

She turned to Becca. “Is this a new event? I don’t remember seeing it on the roster of last year’s activities.”

Becca nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the ice. “Yeah, we just added it.”

“It’s a great idea,” she said, brainstorming ways to promote the event and drive publicity. “Are you planning to repeat it next year?”

“Depends how things go tonight,” Becca replied, grinning ear to ear.

Chloe watched as the players skated up and down the ice, noticing for the first time that their jerseys didn’t have numbers on the back, but letters. Odd. “Hey, what’s the deal with the letters on the jerseys?” she asked.

Becca just shrugged, so Chloe returned her attention to the game. The kids played their little hearts out. It wasn’t the hard-hitting game she’d grown to love while watching the Rangers, and their skills could use some work, but their sportsmanship? It was first class all the way. And the coaches were totally invested, calling plays from the bench and heckling the linesmen for bad calls. For the first time in weeks, Chloe felt like herself. She felt…light. Carefree, even.

When the first period drew to a close, she moved to the railing, prepared to high-five the blue players again as they retreated to the locker room. What she got instead was a complete surprise.

Isaiah stopped in front of her, stretching up on his toes. “Here you go, Miss Chloe.” His eyes shone bright as he handed her a long-stemmed red rose.

“Thank you,” she said, unsure what she’d done to deserve the beautiful crimson flower, but flattered nonetheless. Each blue player did the same, handing her one red rose each until she had collected sixteen of them, creating a fragrant bouquet. The last player off the bench was Janelle. She didn’t have a rose, but instead offered Chloe a note before following her teammates down the tunnel.

Dropping into her seat, Chloe cut her eyes at Becca. The other woman just shrugged. She fingered the small white envelope that had her name scribed on the front. Scanning the crowd, she realized all eyes were on her. None of them looked surprised. Only curious. Slipping a finger under the seal, she opened the letter, hoping no one would notice how her hands shook.

Chloe,

I’m sorry for being such a colossal jackass. I should have trusted you with the truth. I should have trusted in us. Every day that passes without you by my side feels like an eternity. If you give me the chance, I promise to do things right this time. I will always be on your team.

Ryan

She lowered the note to her lap, studying the roses. It was no coincidence there were sixteen of them. Like her, he’d been counting the days, tortured and miserable. Sixteen days in hell. Would it be seventeen? Ryan’s message was clear. The puck was in the neutral zone and the next play was hers. She twisted around in her seat, searching the arena for his familiar face.

It was nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment swept over her once again. Damn. She missed him something fierce. Their short time together had changed everything. It had also broken her heart, not something easily forgiven. Or forgotten. And definitely not something she wanted to experience again. But the alternative? That was worse. The idea of never feeling Ryan’s lips on hers? Of never lying wrapped in his arms? Her chest tightened. The very idea of it took her breath away.

Sighing, she settled into her seat, waiting for the players to return. Becca patted her hand, a knowing grin on her face.

Although both teams scored in the second period, it felt endless. With thoughts of Ryan distracting her, Chloe was restless. She found herself searching for him constantly, expecting to see him come out of the player’s tunnel as he’d done so many times before.

The second period buzzer jarred her from her thoughts. Chloe tensed. This time, she remained seated as the blue players filed down the runway, unsure of what to expect. Elijah stopped in front of her, hopping up and down on his skates.

“Miss Chloe,” he yelled. “Hey, Miss Chloe! I got something for you.”

Grinning like a fool, she leaned down to see what Ryan had in store for her next. Elijah handed her a silver box tied with a gold bow. “Thank you,” she said, giving the package a little shake like she’d seen him do at Christmas. His eyes lit up and he gave her a toothy grin, his dark hair obscuring his eyes.

“Hope you like it,” he said, turning and run-walking into the tunnel.

Chloe returned to her seat, sitting with the package on her lap. Unable to suppress the grin on her face, she opened the card.

Chloe,

I’d like to take you on a date. A real date. The kind where I ask and you accept without blackmail. Just you, me, and these shoes. Hope you like them. The way they sparkle reminded me of you.

Ryan

PS. If you decide to wear nothing but the shoes, I won’t complain.

She laughed, a tear leaking from her eye. Another first date? Sounded good to her. Maybe they could start again after all. A fresh start with no preconceived notions and no ghosts of romances past haunting them. Of course, she wouldn’t trade their real first date for some pretentious and formal first date. In retrospect, it was kind of perfect in its own way. And if he hadn’t had the guts to blackmail her? Well, she didn’t even want to think about a world in which Ryan hadn’t elbowed his way into her life. What was that old saying? You never know what you have until it’s gone. And now that she knew what she’d been missing, she didn’t want to go back. She wanted to move forward.

Pulling the gold bow off the box, she removed the lid to find the most stunning pair of crystal-studded leather and lace Louboutin heels. The shoes were to die for, shining under the bright lights, but what she wanted? What she needed? It didn’t come in a box. And it couldn’t be bought. She needed Ryan. Needed him like she needed her next damn breath.

She scanned the arena again, desperate to find him waiting for her. No such luck. What kind of game was he playing?

The third period was even longer than the second, and Chloe was barely able to sit still. She needed to talk to Ryan. To sort out the mess they’d made. When the game ended on a tie, the players from both teams shared a victory lap around the ice. The audience cheered, rising to their feet. Chloe joined them, watching as the players circled the rink, their cheeks flushed. When they returned to center ice, they lined up. Once all of the players were in position, they turned around, putting their backs to the crowd and revealing the secret of the letters on their jerseys.

Douglas + Jacobs = Power Play

R
yan clamored down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The cheers of the small crowd masked his thundering approach. When he reached the third row, he stopped, dropping his bag at his feet. Then he stepped up behind Chloe and touched her shoulder. They were so close he could smell her perfume. Damn, he’d missed that smell. He’d missed her. When she spun to face him, there were tears in her eyes. Her lower lip quivered, calling to that archaic side of him that wanted nothing more than to protect her, even if that meant protecting her from his own stupidity. Watching from above as she’d searched the stands for him had nearly been his undoing. He’d wanted nothing more than to rush her side, hold her in his arms, and kiss her senseless.

“What are you doing, Ryan?” She looked around at all the familiar faces surrounding them, uncertainty clouding her eyes. “What is all of this?”

“This is how we court women back in Minnesota. I know this is probably a little old fashioned for a city girl like you, but just humor me, okay? We kind of skipped this part last time.” Pulse thundering, he took her hands in his, relieved when she didn’t resist. He was ecstatic when she gripped them tight, holding on as if she feared he might disappear in a puff of smoke. “I wanted to do it right this time, so when I ask you to be my girl, there will be no hesitation, no doubt in your mind that you
are
my girl.”