“Please?” I whispered.
“Sure.” He seemed as uncertain as I felt. “I, er, you probably don’t want to talk here?”
I shook my head.
“How about we get out of here and go somewhere we can have a drink?”
“Okay.”
“Did you drive?”
“No, we had a limo from the hotel bring us. Too many of us to navigate arena parking.”
“Good idea.” He hesitated. “All right, let me get my bag and we can get out of here. I’ll take you home when we’re done.”
Ouch.
As if it were a foregone conclusion that nothing would come of our conversation. And that hurt too.
I didn’t say much of anything while we made our excuses, walked out to the players’ parking lot, and got in his SUV.
“So, how have you been?” he asked as he pulled onto the street.
“Not great,” I admitted.
“What’s wrong?”
There it was, that soft, deep voice that always washed over me like a summer breeze. It felt so good to hear it, it took a moment before I could answer.
“So many things, it’s hard to know where to start, but mostly, I’m sorry.”
“You already said you were sorry,” he said. “It’s water under the bridge.”
“But it’s not,” I whispered. “The night we broke up, you said you loved me. Was that true?”
He was staring straight ahead, but even looking at his profile, I saw his jaw tighten a little. “Yeah. It was true.”
“Then how can we just let what we had go?”
“That was all you, honey.”
“I know; that’s what I’m trying to say.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to articulate my thoughts in a way that would make sense. I was dealing with so many emotions, things that were locked up tight in my heart, and that made it difficult to express them. “I want to try to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“The bodyguard stuff. Your wanderlust, for lack of a better word. I heard the words before, and I understand the broad meaning of generic dissatisfaction, but until I know where it’s coming from, I’m struggling to wrap my head around it. And I want to, Dax. I think we have something special, and if there’s any chance at all of us fixing what I broke, we have to start there.”
“You didn’t break it by yourself,” he admitted quietly.
“But can we talk about it? Do you even want to?” My voice dropped to a whisper because I was so afraid he would say no.
“I don’t know if we can fix things,” he said, reaching across the console for my hand. “But yes, I’m willing to talk about them.”
“So tell me. Explain the bodyguard stuff to me from the perspective of walking away from the only thing you ever wanted to do.”
“That’s just it,” he said. “It’s not. Yes, I love hockey. Yes, I worked my ass off to get to the pros, but it wasn’t the only thing I ever wanted to do. I was bummed that I didn’t get to go to college—got an A in my English class this semester, by the way—and if I hadn’t been drafted at eighteen, I would’ve gone into the military. So I’m not like other guys with hockey, who can say they never wanted to do anything else. I always did and I still do. I’ve been playing hockey professionally for ten years now, and it’s time for me to follow some of those other dreams.” He paused. “Does that make sense?”
“I didn’t know you would’ve gone into the military if you hadn’t been drafted.”
“Yeah. There’s a part of me that wants to do more with my life, beyond being an athlete. I’ve done that, and as I get up to thirty, I don’t need to beat up my body on the ice every night. Concussions are super common in hockey and I’m lucky I’ve only had one over the years.”
“Okay, I understand all of that, but what part of protecting wealthy celebrities, which is mostly what you’ll be doing if you continue working for Chains, fills the part of you that’s equivalent to serving in the military?”
“It’s hard to explain. That’s not my end game, but it’s a starting point. Because I have to get experience somewhere. There are a lot of options, Isla, and one thing I can’t talk about yet because I signed a nondisclosure. If we decide to get back together, I can tell you about it then, but for now, I can’t.”
I was taken aback. Not because he wouldn’t tell me, but because he had something going on that was serious enough to sign a nondisclosure agreement. I couldn’t wrap my head around that and was silent the rest of the drive.
We got to a small restaurant near where Ian and Everly lived and got out of the SUV. He took my hand as we went inside and sat at the bar, instead of getting a table. It was late, so the kitchen was closed, but the bar had a few seats left on one side and we settled into them.
“Does it make more sense now?” he asked quietly, looking into my eyes.
“A little, yes.”
“I wish I could tell you more, Isla, but I can’t. Not unless and until we decide we’re going to be together. Then I’d introduce you to the appropriate people and we’d talk about the future.”
“Are you going to be a spy?” I demanded.
32
Dax
Damn, it was hard keeping things from her. Especially when she looked at me with those gorgeous green eyes of hers. But I couldn’t go through losing her again, so I was going to be super careful this time. Not just with our personal relationship, but with telling her anything that would jeopardize my future. I didn’t know what had brought about this change of heart, but while my heart was jumping for joy, my brain was reminding me to play it cool and not get overly excited.
“No, I’m not going to be a spy.” I shook my head as the bartender
