Page 130 of Hockey Wife

She tried to see the bright side. “But retirement was bound to happen eventually. Only the other night at dinner with my parents you were talking about settling down.” Maybe even starting a family. She added weakly, “So it starts a little sooner.”

He was strong enough to come out of this. To find meaning in a life after hockey.

Only right this minute, he didn’t agree. His expression was incredulous. Nothing she said was right.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I am not ready for that. I have things I want to achieve. This is my career, Georgia, and I sure as shit do not need some party girl who knows nothing about hockey telling me how to run it.”

She flinched. Of course he wouldn’t see this as any kind of blessing in disguise, not when the disguise was atrophy in the suburbs with your flighty mistake of a wife.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to the girls. I didn’t think?—”

“Exactly. You didn’t think. I live a very private life, Georgia, but since I met you, it’s been anything but. Media attention and everyone up in my business. Your parents announcing our marriage to the world. Why the hell did you even tell them?”

“It-it was an accident.” Another blinding moment of self-sabotage, except this one might have been deliberate. A part of her had wanted them to know about Banks. About this one perfect stroke of intent that was all for her.

“Or another way to get your parents’ attention.”

No, a way to get yours.

Moments ago, she was imagining a happy ending—the playoffs, his family, this man relying on her as his rock, just as she relied on him as hers. Even if he could forgive her mistake, he wouldn’t want her around, reminding him of it. Of his failure at the last hurdle.

He certainly wouldn’t want attention-seeking Georgia, who trapped him into this fake marriage because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” she said. For dragging you into my poor little rich girl drama. For caring about your health.

For falling hopelessly in love with you.

For a moment it looked like he regretted his tone. He took a step toward her, but she held up a hand. The damage was done.

“No, I get it. This is your career.” She bent to pick up the broom and stood quickly. “I’ll give you some space.”

“Georgia—” But she’d already retreated inside.

41

A life after hockey? With her? Because if that was what she was hinting at here, that was crazy. Her life was just beginning while his was stumbling towards an ignominious conclusion. This beautiful young thing should not be thinking of binding herself to a man heading downhill fast.

Through the patio sliding door, he peered into the living room for a sign that she hadn’t gone far. Nothing. She was giving the wounded beast space, which was probably for the best. If he spent another second in her presence, he might say worse.

This year had felt like his last shot. He was doing it for his gran, for his mom, for his sisters. For his dad. And now this.

He understood Georgia’s concern, but he knew his body better than anyone. To have her second-guess that was infuriating. If she couldn’t fathom this fundamental thing, then she didn’t know him at all.

He had no idea how long he spent on the patio, staring blindly out toward the lake. Only this morning he was thinking he’d like to take Georgia for a walk along the beach after lunch, her petite hand in his big mitt. Then back to the house for a cuddle and more because it would be days without her while he worked toward his future in the next round of the playoffs.

Their future.

Now, that had all shifted sideways, like the sand before him. Worse, it had vanished into nothing because he was a man with no future. No career, no plan, and a wife in name only.

He was going to lose her.

Though in truth, he’d never had her. He had a marriage certificate, a ring, and a woman who needed someone to have her back against her parents. Georgia was stronger than she looked, and now that she’d worked out how to stand up for herself, what good was he to her?

He was barely able to hold her without wincing in pain. Big, strong man? Sure.

A text came in from O’Malley.

Petrov just told us. That sucks, dude.

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