Loud Mouth Page 15

“So you donated DNA,” Christensen said. “What’s the point?”

  The man everyone thought they knew, the beloved scoring machine disappeared completely. “I was there for you from the beginning,” he said, his top lip curling. “I provided for both of you. Neither of you wanted for anything.” He tossed up his hands in frustration. “And what do I get in return? Both of you acting like petulant children. That reflects badly on me.”

  “And there it is. The real reason you’re here.” Ian laughed. Loud. Hard. Without a single ounce of joy. “So your legacy’s taking a hit, huh?”

  David stiffened. “My records still stand.”

  “For now,” Christensen said with all the cockiness a future Hall of Famer could deliver. “Is there anything else?”

  “Just cut the poor-me-my-feelings-are-hurt shit and toughen up, boys.”

  Christensen looked at Ian and shook his head. “Damn, can you believe I used to dream about getting life advice from my dad?”

  “Really?” God, Ian had spent his life trying to get the advice to stop. “He’s total shit at it.”

  Their dad let out an angry huff. “You two take after your mothers.”

  He and Christensen looked at each other, relieved grins on their faces. “Thank fucking God,” they said at the same time.

  And that’s when he spotted Shelby walking straight toward them, a hesitant slowness to her step as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be welcome. He was halfway to her before he thought about it and realized what that would mean. By the time he reached her, it was too late.

  His dad transformed as soon as he spotted her. Gone was the snarl and the palpable disgust, replaced with that easygoing charm that had always been David Petrov’s costume.

  “Hi there.” He stuck out his hand. “David Petrov.”

  The fake-humble attitude had always been his dad’s go-to—but Shelby didn’t know any better. For her, he’d always be the great David Petrov, king of the ice and holder of multiple scoring records.

  “I know who you are, sir.” She shook his hand. “I’m Shelby Blanton.”

  “With The Biscuit?” His dad’s eyes lit up with what would look like sincerity to someone who didn’t know him better. “Wow. That site is great. Huge fan.”

  She nearly melted into a puddle right there. “That means a lot.”

  “Well, I know you guys have a flight to catch. Good to see you again.” He turned to Shelby. “Wonderful to finally put a gorgeous face with a kickass site. Keep up the good work.”

  Then he walked away down the tunnel—in the direction of the reporters, of course. No doubt, he’d pull his usual no-comment routine that always seemed to drive up interest.

  “So you guys are talking again?” she asked, practically beaming with hope. “Oh, thank God. I was so worried. He seems like he’s really making an effort to fix things.”

  “Yeah,” Ian said, grinding out the word through clenched teeth. “He’s quite a guy.”

  Years of training, of knowing that to tell the truth about his dad would only mean more scrutiny from the press, more second-guessing of his every move, and more ridiculous think pieces purporting to be a deep dive into his private life, kept him from saying more.

  All he was, sometimes all it seemed he would ever be, was a reflection of his dad. It was easier to keep it on lockdown, to let the world believe the lie—especially when it came to Shelby, because letting her see that part of his life, that would be admitting too much about him and about how he felt about her.

  …

  A half hour into the flight back home and Shelby had run out of small talk. It didn’t help that Ian had gone back into cabin grunt mode. Sitting next to him, she searched for anything to maybe draw the moment out a little more. As soon as they were wheels down in Harbor City, everything changed. No more dinners. No more ice-skating. No more devouring a midnight bowl of room service ice cream while sitting naked in the bed.

  She wasn’t ready for that yet.

  The anticipation of landing had her fiddling with her six-year chip, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the plastic ridges to ground herself to the here and now. In a moment of desperation, she grabbed hold of the first thing she could think of that they hadn’t talked about so far. “So that’s pretty cool about your dad coming to see you guys.”

  The muscle in Ian’s jaw twitched as he continued to look out the team jet’s window.

  “Maybe we could have a dinner with the three of you.” The words rushed out. Another dinner would mean more time with Ian. An excuse to see him, spend time with him. Pathetic? Yeah, but desperate times and all. “I could include it in the final post for the series about you and Alex.”

  He let out a short huff of breath. “Not even if it meant getting traded to the Rage.”

  “What is going on, Ian?” Everything had seemed fine this morning. Beyond fine, really. Now? It was like he’d gone back behind that wall he used to shut people out. “Talk to me.”

  “Why?” He pivoted in his seat, keeping his voice low. “For the clicks?”

  She flinched. “That’s a low blow.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it, and then waited a few beats while clenching his jaw closed so fiercely, she worried the team dentist was going to have a new client.

  “Nothing with my dad,” he said. “That’s nonnegotiable.”

  “I understand.” She reached out and gave his leg a quick squeeze, then drew back before anyone saw. “You’re still getting used to everything.”

  It was hard for a person to find out that their family wasn’t exactly what they thought it was. She still remembered the drop in her stomach when she’d found out that the man she’d thought would never leave had. After that, everything had changed.

  “Not every story has a happy ending, Shelby,” Ian said, his tone resigned. “Some things are best left alone.”

  Her stomach sank. Was he just talking about his dad now, or was he trying to tell Shelby something more?

  Ian fell asleep—or more likely pretended to—and she stared at the movie playing on her iPad screen while not taking in a single moment of the plot. So this was just what they’d said. A fling. As long as they weren’t in one of the Harbor City zip codes, the clothes could come off. The emotions, though, stayed covered. That was the deal. But fuck if she wasn’t starting to feel naked as hell right about now.

  Shelby, what have you done?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The taste of salty fries and a chocolate shake still fresh the next day, Shelby walked the block and a half from the diner she and Roger had met at to catch up to the Ice Knights arena with an extra spring in her step. As she got closer to the staff entrance, a man in head-to-toe Cajun Rage gear stubbed out a cigarette and walked toward her.

  “I thought you gave those up, Bill,” she said, giving the Cajun Rage’s vice president of communications a quick hug.

  “It was just so I had an excuse to hang outside in hopes of running into you.”

  When she’d been starting The Biscuit, almost all the teams ignored her requests for interviews. Not Bill. He’d treated her like one of hockey’s own. It had been refreshing. A Bill who was also a friend of Bill W’s, they’d met at an AA meeting shortly after she’d gotten out of rehab. One evening later over coffee, deep dish pie, and “oohing” and “ahhhing” over the pictures of him and his husband on their wedding anniversary trip to Antarctica, they’d become friends.

  “Congrats on the deal with the Ice Mites,” he said, using the Rage fan’s favorite nasty nickname for the Ice Knights. “Wish we would have thought of snagging you first.”

  “Like I’d ever go work for the Cajun Lame?” She shook her head. “Forget about it.”

  “I figured, but the door’s always open. We’re huge fans of The Biscuit,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Don’t be such a stranger, kid. We’re due for a dinner.”

>   “You got it.” Since her social calendar was pretty much as blank as it ever was, that wasn’t going to be a problem. “And thanks for the job offer. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Well, at least let me buy you a frozen lemonade after tonight’s game. We can talk about how much better the restaurants are in New Orleans than Harbor City.”

  As if that was even possibly true. “You’re gonna have to buy me two pink lemonades to make up for such lies.”

  “Deal,” he said with a chuckle and held open the door for her.

  They walked in together but split up at the end of the hallway. He went toward the end with the visitors’ locker room and she went toward the Ice Knights’ side. Maybe she slowed down a little outside the locker room and slow rolled it in hopes of seeing Ian. Okay, she totally did that. There was just no denying the flutter of butterflies in her stomach whenever she thought of him or the spark of desire or the curiosity about what he was thinking or the…well, everything.

  As if the universe was smiling down on her, the locker room door opened and Ian walked out. He wasn’t in uniform yet, but he had on his game face—an unshaven square jaw tense with determination, a sense of barely controlled power and aggression. It shouldn’t turn her on, but it did.

  “Hey there,” she said, trying to sound somewhat normal and not like she was about to go up in flames.

  He didn’t say anything, at least not with words. The intensity in his stare, though, said a lot.

  “Shelby, is that you?” asked a man from behind her, whose voice was so familiar despite not having talked to him for years.

  She turned and there he was. Jasper Dawson stood with Lucy near the VIP entrance to the arena. No more than five eight, he always managed to seem bigger than he was, even when he was standing next to the very tall Lucy.

  “I cannot believe it is Shelby Blanton right in front of my eyes.” He came over, his walk as fast as ever. “How are you and why didn’t you tell anyone that I’m your stepdad? Lucy just told me she had no idea about our connection.”

  Emotion clogging her throat, she blinked away the wetness gathering in her eyes. This man was going to make her cry. She had no idea that he’d remember her and yet, here he was calling himself her dad. “Well, you’ll always be my favorite stepdad, but I wanted to earn a spot here on my own, of course.”

  “You sure did that,” he said, grinning at her as if he really was her proud papa. “Give me a hug.”

  She had absolutely no intention of saying no. The hug was solid, comforting, and just what she didn’t realize she needed.

  “You know,” he said after the hug. “The hardest part of divorcing your mother was not getting to hang out with you anymore.”

  “Yeah, we moved to Florida as soon as the papers were signed.” Not an exaggeration. She and her mom had driven a U-Haul to the lawyer’s office and had left straight after.

  “I’m glad to have you back here like old times.” He turned to Lucy and Ian. “We used to watch the games right behind the bench, and she’d always manage to beat me when it came to Ice Knights trivia and I’d have to buy her one of those deep-fried-Oreo monstrosities.”

  “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “We were friends,” he said. “I hope we can be again. Your mom’s doing okay, I hope.”

  Oh Lord. Whatever it was with her mom and the men she married, she never left a single one mad. They all came back around. “Yeah, she’s in the ’burbs just north of Harbor City.”

  Jasper got a faraway look in his eye that left him with a big smile on his face. “I’ll have to look her up.”

  “Watch out—she’s still herself,” Shelby warned.

  “That’s what I always loved about her.” He glanced over at Ian. “I’m looking forward to seeing you out on the ice tonight. We have your dad in the owner’s suite. I’m sure he’d love to see both of his boys score.”

  Ian tensed beside her but just mumbled something that sounded like “yes, sir.” Then Jasper and Lucy took the executives-only elevator up to the owner’s suite.

  “The team owner used to be your stepdad?” Ian asked after the doors closed.

  “Yup.” And no one was more surprised than she was that he’d remembered her.

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he gave her a considering look. “Seems like there’s a lot about you that I don’t know.”

  “Well, there’s one way to fix that.” Did that sound desperate? Did it matter?

  Staring at the closed executive elevator doors, he gave one of his patented noncommittal grunts and walked into the locker room.

  Annoyance and hurt singed every nerve from her toes upward. What a jackass. What had she been thinking? That things would be different? No. Not with Mr. I Don’t Need to Say Anything.

  He only wanted her when they were out of the tri-county metro area and they couldn’t get enough of each other. That was dangerous. It was that makes-no-sense in-love-with-love territory her mom was always in. Everything was about the flash and the fire. Then, when that settled, she got bored and found a new husband. Out went Jasper and in came Andre and then Paul and then Scott. Shelby had seen firsthand the damage that type of instant ignition could have. That’s why she’d known she had to keep Ian to just one night that turned into two. It couldn’t be three. She was too sure she wasn’t like her mom. She wouldn’t bounce back. She’d fall with a splat. She already had.

  …

  Ian was trying to wrap his head around the idea of Shelby’s former stepdad being Jasper fucking Dawson when he walked into the locker room and nearly slammed into a group of players circled around his dad.

  He bit back a snarl, and it took longer than normal for him to get the locks in place holding down all that rage bubbling up underneath. By the time the other players went to dress, Ian was back in full control.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  His dad slapped him on the back as if he was in on the joke, the movement covering the fact that he was shoving Ian toward the door. “Can’t a man come see his boys play the game he loves?”

  With a quick maneuver, his old man got him back out into the hallway. Ian could have stopped it, but he was done walking away from this man. He was done having to keep the truth on lockdown. He was just 100 percent done.

  “Cut to the chase,” Ian said, looking his dad in the eyes. “What do you want?”

  After a quick visual sweep of the hall to make sure they were alone, David leaned in and lowered his voice. “We need to do an interview. The three of us. Patch things up on national TV. It’ll be good for you two, and it will lessen some of my negative exposure.”

  Ian laughed in his dad’s face. “Negative exposure?”

  “That’s what my business partner is calling it.” David focused his attention in short bursts on everything in the hallway except Ian. “I’ve sunk everything I have into a development outside of Toronto. Investors are getting worried by the bad press you two are causing.”

  “We’re causing?” There wasn’t even a hint of a whine of the metal on his mental locks under pressure; they burst open as if they’d never been there, and all those years of stuffing everything down came roaring up. “You’re the one who had a secret second family.”

  His dad tensed and looked around before saying through his teeth, “Lower your voice.”

  Hands curled into fists, stance ready to throw down, blood rushing in his ears so loudly that his dad could be yelling right into his face and he wouldn’t hear a thing, Ian pulled back, ready to let go with a vicious punch when the locker room door exploded outward. Alex strolled out as if all was right and good with the world, his body loose and his grin welcoming. He didn’t stop until he was practically between Ian and their dad.

  “Heya, Pops,” Alex said. “I heard you’d come to visit.”

  David’s face was bright red with fury. The man h
adn’t made it through the number of years in the professional hockey league that he had by not knowing when things were about to turn ugly. The catch was, there was no way he didn’t realize he wouldn’t come out on top.

  “They’re mine, you know,” he snarled at Alex. “The records will always be mine. You may get close, but you’ll never get there.”

  Alex shrugged as if he didn’t give two shits about the records or anything the man in front of him could say. “I’d rather go scoreless for the rest of my career than to ever hold a record that had ever been connected to you.”

  “Who do you think you are?” he asked, emphasizing each word by jabbing his finger into Alex’s chest.

  Ian didn’t think, he just reacted, grabbing his old man’s hand and shoving it away. “He’s my brother, and he doesn’t have to take your shit.” He took a step forward. He may be half the hockey player his dad was, but he was bigger, madder, and he had someone more important than himself to fight for. “Now get out of here before security comes for you.”

  He and Alex stood there, silent, shoulder to shoulder, and watched until David Petrov stormed out of the VIP door. For his entire life, after one of his father’s “little lessons,” he’d been left feeling completely alone.

  This time was different.

  “Brother, huh?” Alex asked, landing an elbow into Ian’s side.

  “Yeah, welcome to the family.” Ian returned the nudge with a light shove of his own. “Don’t forget to bring a side to Thanksgiving.”

  “I make a mean Jell-O salad with marshmallows and canned fruit.”

  Ian’s taste buds revolted at the thought. “Crescent rolls might be more your speed.”

  They went into the locker room together, bickering back and forth like the old days, and it was like everything had fallen into place—almost.

  As soon as the game was over, though, he was going to find Shelby.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After that brawl of a game, there was only one person Ian wanted to see, and it sure as hell wasn’t the one reporters wouldn’t stop asking him about. He’d made it two whole questions—both about his dad—into the postgame interviews before he bailed.