Scoring Lacey (19 page)

“Will they pull him? Mom? Are they going to pull him?”

She watched the replay, her hand over her mouth as they commentators told of a time out called. God. No. Oh no.

“Mom?” Carmen grabbed her arm, as nervous as Lacey felt. She couldn’t remember the last time Shayne had been pulled. It happened. But so early in the season? “Mom,” her youngest whispered as the camera followed Shayne off the ice then his replacement on.

“Shayne,” Lacey whispered. She saw the way his glove smacked against the plexi-glas. “Phone. Phone!”

Carmen scrambled around looking for her and handed it to her. Lacey’s hand was shaking as she stared at the number pad for several seconds.

“One,” Carmen whispered and reached over and pressed one. “Eight. Three. Two.”

Lacey pushed aside Carmen’s hand and finished the remaining numbers on her own. “Turn it off.”

Kayla aimed the remote at the TV and the screen went black.

Lacey stood up and walked down the hall.

“You saw.”

She covered her mouth, nodding as she leaned against the wall. He sounded so tired. She slid down, not really aware of Kayla walking by as she went into Lacey’s room. “Baby,” she said softly because it’s all that could come out of her tight throat.

“I’m shit, Lace. I couldn’t find the puck with a binocular. It’s all shit.” He sighed heavily and she rested her elbow on her knees as tears slipped down. “Two games, Lace. Two.” She heard a loud bang and knew something had been kicked. Or thrown. “I’ve won two fucking games. It’s like there are holes in my glove. Fuck!” He yelled and she gripped the phone. “I gotta go, Lace. I’m...I’m...I’ll call later.”

“Shayne.” But he hung up, leaving her with silence. He was hurting so much. He was so far away. She hadn’t talked to him since he left. He hadn’t called either. Tonight though she couldn’t not call.

She should’ve called sooner. She rubbed her thumb over the hearing end of the phone. He would’ve been just as hurting in the pre-season. It was that glove smack that had done it for her. And Carmen.

Lowering the phone, Lacey stared at the opposite wall. She had to go to him. She had to go because he was hurting. Nodding to herself, she stood up and walked into her room.

Kayla and Carmen were haphazardly shoving clothing into her suitcase so it looked like Carmen’s bulging backpack months ago. She began to take items out.

“Mom! You have to go!”

Lacey began to refold her clothes, laying them smoothly in the suitcase. “I know.” She looked at her eldest daughter. “This is why you came home, isn’t it?”

“We were going to push you on the plane. You’re crying, Mom, all the time. Carm called me. She didn’t know what to do. When she told me about Shayne, I knew.” Kayla shrugged a shoulder. “Now you do too.”

Lacey looked at her youngest daughter. Poor Carmen. It was easy to forget that underneath it all she was still a fifteen year old kid. Dealing with her mother’s heartache was unfair. “Hey.” She reached over and batted her youngest on the arm. “I’m the grown up here, not you. Remember that.”

Carmen nodded as she handed her a refolded top. “Mom. After you fix Shayne, you have to fix Uncle Todd. Something’s going on with him.”

Lacey nodded. These men of hers were a mess. “So,” she looked at Kayla who was the organizer out of her girls, “I’m assuming you have a plan.”

Her daughter knew how to plan. Kayla had already booked a flight for Lacey. Now she stood in front of a large silver and glass building that did not look like Shayne at all. Her stomach was jittery. During the drive into Regina, she hadn’t been nervous. Through her six-hour flight, she hadn’t been nervous.

Now, she was nervous.

She dug out the phone she had bought at the airport. Expensive little bugger but she had stopped at the kiosk and impulsively bought it. Cash and trash, the guy had described the prepaid phone as. She stood in front of the unfamiliar building and dialed the familiar number.

“Donnelly.”

Her hand tightened on the handle of her suitcase. “Hi,” she said softly.

“Lacey.”

Just that. It was enough. Tears filled her eyes and she wiped them away. She reached over and opened the door to the building and dragged her suitcase in.

“It says blocked. Why are you blocked?”

She lied. Bad her. “Funny thing. Came home, found Kayla on my couch.” Not a lie. “It’s her phone as Carmen’s hogging the other one.” There was the lie. She stared at the panel before her. His name wasn’t listed but Todd had told her his condo number to enter. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

She entered the right number and listened to the speaker buzz.

“Hang on.”

She nodded as she lowered the phone. His voice was tinny through the speaker. “I have a delivery--it needs a signature.”

“Get the guy downstairs to sign.”

She looked at the security guard. “No one there.”

“Right. Come on up.”

Lacey grabbed the door as he released the lock then she walked in, dragging her suitcase behind her. The guy looked up then down when she gave a little wave.

“Sorry,” Shayne said as he returned to the phone. “It’s just...fuck, Lace.”

“I know.” She hit the elevator button and wished she were already upstairs with him. Her nerves were gone. He was so hurting. Would she lose the call? How she hated these stupid phones.

She stepped into the elevator and hit twelve. “Do you know what I realized when I saw Kayla last night? She’s growing up. That city’s no good for her. Turning her into an adult on me. When did she get to be almost twenty, Shayne?”

“Beats me. I’m still processing Carmen is fifteen and not five.”

“You’re keeping yourself too open,” she said as she watched the numbers climb. “Coach would tell you to not stand like a starfish.” His bark of laughter made her heart hurt. She tightened her hand on the suitcase grip then stepped off and tried to figure where the hell his place was. She went left, turned around and went the other way. At the door she paused and ran her hand over the wood. “Then he’d tell you you’re not a rookie and to smarten the fuck up.”

She knocked.

“Yeah. He would. Hang on. Someone’s at the door. Delivery.”

“Okay.” She stared down the hallway and really couldn’t imagine him living here. The door opened and she turned to stare into his hurting hazel eyes. “So, guess what my daughters did?”

“Lace.”

She closed the phone, shoving it into her pocket and flung herself at him. Those familiar arms wrapped around her and he lifted her up to bury his face in her neck. He felt the same. Thank God, he felt the same. There was a little clatter as he tossed his phone aside then fisted his hand on the back of her shirt. He was shaking. Her big ice warrior was shaking. She smoothed her hand over the back of his neck.

“I really wanted you here,” he whispered by her ear, his voice raspy. “It’s all going to shit, Lacey. It’s all...and when you called last night, all I wanted was you.”

“You’ve got me. Sorry it took so long to get here.” She kissed the base of his neck and tightened her arms around him. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever be able to let go again. Not that she was planning on it. He was hers. She was keeping him. No more can’ts. “Customs was a bitch.”

About the Author:

In grade 6, Jenna had to keep a journal as a class project. One writing assignment she had was “What do I want to be when I grow up.” Young Jenna carefully printed out, with her tongue sticking out between her teeth (no doubt) that she “wanted to be a writer.” Those words would guide her towards becoming a writer of teen angst stories in high school and later to erotic romance, a genre her mother is soooo comfortable with. She currently resides in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

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