Page 99 of No Promises, No Lies

As exhausted as I am, I toss and turn, too keyed up to sleep. Huddled under the thick, white comforter, feeling naked and exposed in only my underwear. Alone with my thoughts in the early hours of the morning has me questioning my decision to trust Aidan.

We’re alone. Not even his brothers are here… and I’m terrified Aidan might change his mind and charge through that door, insistent on claiming his right as myhusband, but it never opens.

He never comes.

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The silence is unnerving.

I’ve been up for hours, sitting cross-legged on my bed, hesitant to leave the room.Too afraid to face myhusband.

After turning the room over, I was incredibly disappointed to find all the drawers and closets empty.

I’m fairly certain I heard Aidan leave his room a while ago. Which means it’s likely empty… I have the option of either shrugging my shimmery dress back on or darting across the hall to raid Aidan’s room for another pair of boxers and t-shirt.

Could I just ask Aidan for some clothes?Yes, but something changed when we made those vows and I feel—I don’t know how I feel. And maybe that’s the problem… What was light and easy all at once became heavy and hard. I don’t know how to act around Aidan. We said this marriage was paper only, a temporary solution to a mutual problem—but it doesn’t feel that way… At least not to me.

The past 48 hours are catching up to me and I’m anxious. I have nothing else to do but think about it.Did I make the right decision?

Hunger eventually drives me from my room.

I turn the knob carefully to not make any noise, cringing at the loud whining sound the door makes when I drag it open. I’m too busy looking between Aidan’s closed door and the stair landing for him, that I don’t see the bags until I’m tripping over them. Luckily, I catch myself with my hands before face planting into the rich mahogany hardwoods.

Frozen for a minute, thinking for sure Aidan would’ve heard me wipe out. I don’t move. When he doesn’t come running, I release a sigh and push myself up to my knees to inspect what exactly it is I’ve tripped over.

Several paper bags of various colors lay now scattered across the hall, thanks to me careening into them.I steal a peek into the closest one and a spark of hope blooms in my chest at the sight of women’s clothing.

Gathering up the bags, I drag them all back into my room. I kick the door shut, locking it, and dump the contents out across the bed I made hours ago—out of boredom.

I stare wide eyed at my haul.

Sweatshirts, leggings, t-shirts and tanks. All brand new and my size. Styles similar to the clothes I’m used to sporting at the rink. There’s even a small bag full of lingerie. Nothing too crazy, but it’s all soft and lacy and feels nice on my skin.

I can’t help but notice Aidan’s included a fair bit of Breakers gear in the haul: a black beanie with a green shamrock and a hoodie with the Breakers logo. There are also two Breakers’ jerseys—home and away—with, of course, O’Rourke #19 on the back.

I fold everything up and carefully put each item away in the drawers of the bureau or hang it in the closet. I select the buttery soft, sage green sweat set to wear for the day, along with a pair of thick woolen socks. The cabin is warm enough, but it’s still winter, and the floors are ice cold against my bare feet.

I eye the Breakers gear hanging in my closet. It definitely raises the question of what exactly Aidan’s going to do about hockey? He can’t just disappear from the team. He has commitments, practices, games… and from the media reports, his spot on the team this season is tenuous at best…

The Belles have a bye this week because the team is away, but Aidan’s supposed to be in Toronto for an away series the day after next.

Hockey brings my thoughts around to my skating career and instantly sours the good mood the new clothes have inspired. I knew when I ran from the Bratva I was lighting a match to my career. There’s no way it will ever be safe for me to compete again. I try not to think about the Belles. It’s a loss I haven’t yet mourned, so I shove it away, still not yet ready to face that particular consequence for my actions.

As if on cue, the distinct sound of a stick and puck on ice catches my attention.

It draws me to my window, where I finally locate Aidan, gliding across the frozen lake, close by the house, making quick movements with his hands. The dark circle of a puck flashes between the cage his stick creates until he winds up and slaps it hard. It clinks against the beat-up looking metal post of the goal he’s dragged out there.

I watch him for a minute. He’s dressed only in sweats, gloves, skates, and a backwards baseball hat. Then I realize… if Aidan’s on the ice… the house is empty.

I slide across the bedroom floor on my slippery socks and I’m out the door and down the stairs faster than you can say hockey. I go straight to raiding the kitchen for anything to soothe my roaring stomach.

The premade protein shake in the fridge with my name scrawled across the bottle is a surprise. So is the stack of pancakes next to it, waiting for me in a glass container.

I down the shake while heating the pancakes in the microwave. It takes a minute to find the plates and silverware. The shake is so good. The thick chocolate coats the inside of my stomach and eases the nauseous feeling not eating can bring about.

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