Page 19 of Hockey Wife

“And now you need to get it fixed.”

Correct. Letting this continue had no upside except for the fact it got Georgia out of a jam and made his grandmother happy.

Don’t you owe it to yourself to explore what led you to this point?

Not now, Mom.

When he remained silent, O’Malley stood. “If you need to talk, I’m here. You’ve been a decent ear for me.”

“I have?”

“We had dinner at the Sunny Side Up diner a few weeks ago and you listened to my whining.”

“Before you stiffed me with the check.”

O’Malley winced. “Sorry about that. Something came up.”

It pained him to ask but the kid looked so miserable. “What’s going on with you and …?”

“Ashley.” Just saying her name deflated him. “We had a fight. She interfered in my business.”

The details didn’t interest Banks, but he’d lived long enough, and well, sisters, to know this much. “Relationships are about give and take, O’Malley. So she screwed up. Probably pales in comparison to your BS.”

“Just not sure why she bothers.”

“Who knows? She probably thinks you’re not as much of an asshole as you think of yourself. Women tend to have a broader view of these things.” Years surrounded by opinionated females had given him some perspective.

Yet he couldn’t for the life of him work out Georgia. Was it really all about money? Or was there some other reason why she needed him?

Now you’re just grasping at straws, desperate to assign her a less mercenary motive.

O’Malley looked somewhat cheered. “Hey, you coming to the Empty Net to drown our sorrows?”

“Sure. I’ll follow you there.” After he’d iced his shoulder and knocked back a shit-ton of pills.

Within a minute, Banks found himself alone with his thoughts, which lately was not the safest company. He checked his phone and the “wedding announcement” in the Chicago Tattler.

Belated congratulations to Georgia Goodwin, who was recently revealed to have married in a Las Vegas wedding ceremony in January. Ms. Goodwin is the daughter of Penny and Marcus Goodwin, owners of the AmeriTrust Corporation and noted Chicago area philanthropists. Ms. Goodwin’s new husband, Dylan Bankowski, plays hockey.

The dismissive mention of his profession couldn’t quite compete with the possessive clench that phrase wrapped around his balls. Ms. Goodwin’s new husband … why the fuck did that send a dangerous sizzle through his veins? Only on paper, yet the thought of it, of belonging to her in that way, was doing strange things to him.

He shouldn’t want this. Not for any reason other than his gran’s peace of mind. He certainly shouldn’t want to relive the feelings from Vegas, the sense that if only they’d met here in Chicago this thing might have had legs.

She’d made it clear that the sole reason to continue this circus was because she was running out of cash. He should accept the unvarnished truth in that.

He sure as hell should not be looking for reasons to say yes.

7

“Georgia, your waist is snatched and you look stunning!”

Georgia plastered on her best clown grin and ushered Skye and Paris inside her apartment.

“You guys were supposed to be here hours ago.” It was already past ten and a girl needed her squad.

Skye tossed her dark waves over her shoulder. “Well, this one said she’d meet a date at Molly’s, but she needed a wing-girl. Nothing good ever happens before midnight, girl.”

“But it looks like you have plenty of people to keep you company.” Paris waved at the room behind her, heaving with people. All the lookie-loos had crawled out of the woodwork, salivating for the gossip. Except her friends couldn’t be bothered!

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