She left the “and who wants to do it again and again and again” unsaid, but the truth of it had her fanning herself. Really, she was still sore in a few places she hadn’t known existed.
“Lucky for you, I am available for the extremely low price of free, twenty-four hours a day, and I’ll check out the Ice Knights road trip schedule and find a list of meetings you can go to on the road. I’ll text it to ya later.”
The offer made Shelby’s throat clog with emotion. Screwing up her mouth and focusing on the ugly water stain on her ceiling to avoid tearing up, she took in a deep breath. Besides KiKi across the hall, Roger was one of the few people she could call a friend. That was something made all the more important, considering she was still trying to rebuild her relationship with her mom that she’d practically trampled into dust when she’d been drinking. The steps were well outlined in all the AA literature, but no one ever told a person how long they would take to complete them. Addiction gave no easy outs; it just felt like it did when she had been in the middle of a binge.
Now she knew different and, because of all she’d lost, every kindness in her life became a little sweeter. However, that didn’t make it any easier to accept help.
“I can do that part,” she said when she could finally get words out. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Roger said. “Anyway, I gotta admit I’m getting a real kick out of making that Richy Rich Beckett fella wait on me. Is that wrong?”
“Probably, considering he’s your customer, but I’m not going to rat you out.”
Roger laughed. “All right, girl, keep that engine of yours purring and reach out when you need me.”
“Right back at you.”
Feeling more settled than she had when she’d woken up, Shelby ended the call and put her coffee mug in the dishwasher. She walked across her tiny studio to the fish tank set up in front of the window looking across the harbor to the city and bent down to betta-fish level.
“Heya, Marvin. How you doin’?”
As was his custom, he ignored her and stayed turned toward the city. Yeah, her Waterbury apartment was small and overpriced, but the view was amazing. Seeing the sparkling city high-rises across the harbor’s blue waters stole her breath every time. Some early mornings in the summer, she took her coffee and climbed out that very window to sit on the fire escape to watch all the commuter traffic crawl across the harbor bridge. Beyond her Hulu subscription, it was pretty much her only entertainment that didn’t have to do with hockey.
Obsessed? Her? Hey, it could be worse. She could still be infatuated with bad bar pickups who never stayed the night and definitely never remembered her name.
She sprinkled some fish food into the tank, and that got Marvin’s attention. He swam up and gobbled the flakes.
“Gird your loins, Marv. You’re headed over to KiKi’s later, where if you misbehave, she’ll add you to whatever fancy event she’s catering.”
A flip of his fin and Marv moved to the other side of the tank, totally unbothered about becoming an hors d’oeuvres at a Harbor City society wedding. Smart fish. Bad attitude. He kinda reminded her of someone else who was surly as hell but pretty to look at. Well, she’d be seeing more than enough of him in the next few weeks.
Lucky me.
Letting out a groan, she headed for the shower to wash thoughts of that man right out of her head—as if that was possible.
…
Sweaty and breathing hard, Ian lay back on the yoga mat and cursed the online instructor who talked about practice and not perfection to a man who’d worked his whole life to get as close to perfect as possible—at least on the ice. That’s where it mattered. That’s where the world watched and judged.
Not that anyone was watching him. He wasn’t allowed in the team gym until Doc had cleared him. All for a stupid thumb.
So here he was, getting his ass kicked by some dude named Sven who talked about the universe and releasing control and accepting yourself where you are. Well, Ian was in his living room, feeling like a moron for spending all of last night thinking about either Shelby or Christensen—but not at the same time, thank God. Those were two very opposite thought paths.
What he needed was that damn bottle of scotch he’d left at the cabin.
Sure it’s not to fuck her again?
Shut up, brain.
They’d agreed. No repeats. No overtime. No more sex with Shelby.
Not your brain talking, Buck-O.
Obviously.
Great. Now he was talking to himself while using some of PopPop’s favorite old-man words. Maybe it was a good thing he was getting out of the house for a while. Since the news about Christensen and him had broken, he’d pretty much gone into social isolation, and now he was having mental conversations with his dirty PopPop side. Isn’t that what every grown man wanted to happen?
Fuck no. Time to stop feeling all boo-hoo for yourself.
Ian let out a long, deep breath before he responded to…himself…and for the first time in weeks was excited that his phone was ringing. He got up and grabbed it off the couch.
“Hey, Mom.”
“So what’s this I hear about you getting caught in the nasty late-season snow in some cabin and getting arrested?” Yep, that was Suzanne Petrov—straight, no chaser.
“It’s nothing.”
“Really?” He could practically see her eyebrow go up in tandem with her voice. “That’s the kind of nothing a mother wants to know about her children.”
“I am
