Strictly for Now by Carrie Elks

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

ELI

I make it til four o’clock before I finally cave and walk upstairs to the staff offices. It’s mayhem up there. Staff are everywhere, running with pieces of paper in their hands, shouting out for help. They see me and their eyes widen and they slow down just enough to wish me luck.

And I realize how important this game is to all of them. Not just because Wayne needs the money but because they love the team as much as I do. It’s David versus Goliath but we have sticks and pucks instead of slingshots and stones.

I knock on Mac’s door. She calls out to come in and when I push it open I see Wayne sitting in front of her.

He grins, looking genuinely happy to see me. I walk over and shake his hand then look at Mac, waiting to see the anxious expression she always gets when her family is around.

But it isn’t there. And I’m so pleased to see Wayne. It’s the first time he’s been to the stadium since his surgery.

“How are you?” I ask.

“I’m good.” He lifts his brows at the walker next to him. “Ready to not be using this thing, but the nurse insisted.” He shrugs. “She’s around somewhere.”

“She’s gone to check out your seating arrangements for this evening,” Mac says. “Remember?”

“I remember. I got a bad hip, I’m not senile,” he grumbles.

“Okay,” the nurse says, walking back in. “We’re good. There’s easy access to the rink side seats.”

“I told you there was,” Wayne says.

“I know. But you also lie a lot,” she says, taking no shit from him.

“How’s the team?” Wayne asks me. “They holding up okay?”

“They’re nervous but they’ve worked as hard as they could. It all comes down to what happens on the night,” I say. “They’ll be pleased to know you’re here.”

“Can I come see them?” Wayne asks. “I’d like to give them a talk before the game.”

“It’s your team,” I remind him. “And they’d love that. They’re sick of hearing my voice.” I smile at him. “You can do the press conference afterward if you’d like.”

He laughs because he knows how much I hate those things. Journalists get a kick out of seeing a hockey player go down. “Oh no, that’s all yours.” He looks at the nurse. “How long we got?”

“An hour before you need to be in your seat. I want you comfortable before the rest of the spectators come in.”

“You want me sitting down for two hours before puck drop?” he asks. “Damn.”

“It’s either that or we go home and you have an early night,” she tells him.

Wayne sighs. “Okay then. Let me go talk to the staff then we can head for the locker room.” He looks at me. “Meet you there?”

“I’ll be there,” I tell him.

He nods. “Then let’s go.”

Mackenzie watches them leave, a smile playing at her face. When we’re finally alone she focuses on me and I’m mesmerized by her eyes.

“Hey stranger,” she says softly. My heart does this weird flip. I don’t care about the game, I just want to take her home and into bed.

Instead, I walk over to her and pull her into my arms until her face is resting against my chest. I stroke her glossy hair and can smell her shampoo.

It’s all I need.

Running my finger along her jaw, I tip her face up until our lips meet. Her mouth is soft, pliant and I kiss her like I haven’t seen her in a month. She wraps her arms around my neck, her breasts pushing against me, and I immediately go hard.

Reluctantly, I step back. Because I’m not here for that. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

She looks up at me. “I’m good.”

“Really?” Because it’s been a weird few days. And I know how much her family messes up her mind.

“Honestly,” she says, nodding. “I think I might be the only one who is okay in this building, but I am.”

“What was happening with your sister and Hart?” I ask her. “I didn’t know they had a past.”

She runs her tongue along her bottom lip. My eyes follow it like it’s the holy grail. “I’ll tell you later.” She breathes out softly. “I’ve told my mom I’ve met somebody.”

“You did?” I ask. “Who?”

She starts to laugh and it’s music to my ears. “I’d like to introduce you to them later. As my boyfriend.”

I swallow. “You sure?”

“Yes.” The smile wavers. “Are you sure? I mean, I assumed… we talked…”

“Of course I’m fucking sure.” I pull her against me again. “I’m ready for this. I told you that.”

“Then let’s meet after the game.” She reaches up and softly strokes my cheek. It feels so good I struggle not to groan. “And if you change your mind…”

“I won’t change my mind. Let’s do it.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Good.”

“I have to do the press conference right after the game,” I tell her. “And then I’ll need to say hi to my family. But after that I’m yours. Where do you want to do it?”

“I thought we’d do it at Gramps’ place. There won’t be any cameras there. Plus if my dad decides to beat you up we can make a run for it.”

“Where would we go?” I ask her, not wanting our conversation to end. Because then I’ll have to leave and I’ve missed her so goddamned much.

“I’m not sure,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“Vegas. We’ll have a shotgun wedding. That way he can’t pull us apart.”

“He wouldn’t pull us apart anyway,” she says. “He’ll probably think it’s good publicity.”

There’s a knock at the door. I step back again and she takes a deep breath. “Come in.”

This time it’s Brian. He has the latest printout for her and wants to talk it over. He’s so caught up in the numbers he barely notices me standing there.

“I’ll leave you to it,” I tell her, giving her a crooked smile.

“Good luck,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “Not that you need it. You guys are going to win.”

“I hope so.” The smile on my face doesn’t waver.

“I’ll be cheering you on,” she says. “And wearing my jersey.”

I want to hold her again. I want to tell Brian – the poor guy – to fuck off and leave us alone. I want to drop to my knees and worship at her until her breath does that catching thing that always makes me hard.

I want to love her. Forever. I should have told her that. Before Brian walked in.

“Go,” Mackenzie whispers. And I realize I’m standing there, staring at her, my breath coming way too fast for its own good.

“Later,” I tell her.

“Yes.”

Brian’s making some notes on his papers, leaning over her desk. Thank God the man loves numbers more than life.

I love you. I want to mouth it to her. I want to do it again tonight, when I’m on the ice.

But instead I push those words down. Because I’m not saying it in front of Brian. And I’m definitely not sending it in a message to her phone.

“Oh, good luck,” Brian says, finally looking up from his printout.

“Thanks, man,” I say. And then I leave.

* * *

MACKENZIE

I pull on my jersey and check my phone. It’s a few minutes until game time and I need to get out there and sit with the staff, but a message from my mom grabs my attention.

Hey sweetie. We’re sitting with Gramps, rinkside. Want to come join us? – Mom x

Hi Mom. Thanks for the invite but I promised I’d sit with the staff. I’ll come find you when it’s over, okay? – Mackenzie x

Sure. Probably for the best. Isabella’s not exactly in a good mood. She’s spent most of the afternoon planning her revenge. – Mom x

That sounds like Isabella. Danny should be worried.

I feel kind of sorry for Mom, because I’ve seen Isabella when she wants revenge. The day I picked her up from Danny Hart’s apartment, when everything between them imploded, she poked a hole in all of his condoms and soaked them in chili juice for an hour, before drying them all off and sliding them back into the box in the bathroom cabinet.

I have no idea if he used them or not, but the thought of it makes me wince.

I slide into my seat next to Brian just as the teams skate onto the ice. The stadium is completely full and everybody is screaming as Dad leads his team out. Then the Mavericks follow to another roaring cheer. Kids are waving flags, adults are jumping up and down, as the teams take their places ready to face off.

I look down trying to see Mom and Isabella. But then Gramps appears on the big screen and if the stadium was loud before, now the cheers are deafening.

Everybody loves Gramps. It’s been a long time since they’ve seen his face. He smiles and waves a hand and the screams get louder.

Mom is smiling next to him. And next to her is Isabella and… wow.

Yep, she’s definitely in vengeance mode. She looks absolutely amazing. Her hair is glossy and tied back casually, though it probably took her hairdresser hours to create that effect. And her face is perfectly made up to highlight her high cheekbones and wide eyes.

She wears vengeance well. I hope Danny realizes what a dick he is.

Then the game begins. I know I’m supposed to have torn loyalty, with my dad being on one side and the Mavericks on the other, but like the rest of the staff I’m cheering for our team. Five minutes later, when Carter hits the puck into the net and our team takes the first goal, all of us are on our feet screaming.

Then I see Brian has Eli’s name on the back of his jersey, too. I can’t help but smile.

The big screen shows Gramps’ reaction. He’s fighting with his nurse because he’s trying to get on his feet and she’s stopping him. Everybody starts chanting his name as he grins.

Next to him, Isabella is on her feet, too. I guess she’s decided which team she’s supporting.

Of course, it could be something to do with the fact that the goal was mostly Danny’s fault for losing possession. He body checks Carter and the two of them look close to fighting.

Then he deliberately skates close to where Mom and Isabella are sitting. It looks like he says something to her, but I don’t know what.

“That number three’s an asshole,” Brian says.

“Yup.” I nod.

The game gets more scrappy as time goes on. From a skill and experience point of view, Dad’s team should be on top by miles, but the Mavericks have the home advantage, and they’re also young and hungry. When the second intermission arrives it’s almost a relief, because the sin bin keeps getting filled up thanks to stupid fights that break out across the ice. Dad and Eli both look grim as they lead their teams into the tunnel.

The Mavericks are winning three goals to two, and everybody around me is beaming. I head down to grab my usual hotdog, too superstitious not to. And as I bite down, mustard and ketchup oozing all over my lips, I see my beautiful, glamorous sister walking toward me.

“Oh hey,” I say, trying to swallow down the oversize mouthful I’ve bitten off. Then I dab my mouth with the white napkin the vendor gave me, though I’m sure I’m just smearing red and yellow around my face.

“Hi.” She smiles at me. “Still loving those hotdogs, huh?”

“Best part of the game.” I lift a brow and take in her black dress. It’s skater style, clinging to all her perfect curves. “You look great.”

“Thank you. So do you.” She lifts a brow at my jersey. “No hiding which team you’re supporting.”

I shrug. “I saw you cheering them, too.”

“Yep. I’m on team anybody but Danny.”

“I saw him say something to you.” I’m curious now. Especially when she frowns. “What was it?”

“Oh he’s a delight.” She sighs. “He told me that my vagina was as wizened as my neck.”

“He said the word wizened?” I ask her.

She grins. “No, he’s not smart enough for that. I think he said arid. Or dry. I’m not sure.”

“You’re looking remarkably cool,” I say, because she really is. “Mom said you were vengeful.”

“I’m not vengeful,” she tells me, grabbing my dog and taking a bite. It’s weird but I like that. I like that we’re sisters again. That she doesn’t think to ask.

I also like that she’s got mustard on the tip of her nose.

“Good.” I check my watch. There’s only a few minutes left in the intermission. “Are you going back to Gramps’ house with Mom and Dad after the game?” I ask her.

“Yeah. But I have to catch a flight to L.A. first thing. I thought I’d stay there tonight so I went and picked my things up from your place earlier.” She looks almost sad about that.

“That’s fine.” I nod.

“Good.” She nods, too. And for a moment we say nothing.

“I’m going to miss you…”

“It’s been so nice to see you…”

We both talk at once, then start laughing. She wrinkles her nose – still with the mustard on it – and I grin back at her.

Through the crowd I can see the Zamboni drive off the ice, and everybody starts to cheer again.

“I should head upstairs,” I say. Isabella nods, and then she leans forward and hugs me, pressing her lips against my cheek.

It’s only when I’m sitting next to Brian again, and he starts pointing at my cheek that I realize she rubbed mustard all over it.

Dammit.

* * *

ELI

“Everybody needs to keep their cool,” I say, my voice a low warning as the game is about to restart after a commercial break.

“Yeah, well if that asshole would stop trying to fight me, everything would be fine,” Carter grumbles.

“Shut up,” Goran hisses. “The kids are listening.”

We arranged for the students we’ve been coaching all year to be here watching. They’re sitting next to the tunnel, and when Goran waves at them they wave excitedly back.

I know exactly who Carter’s moaning about. Hart has decided to be asshole-in-chief for the All Stars. Every time any of my team goes up against him he tries to start a scrap.

Each time he does, he looks over at me. I’ve been sitting on the bench for most of the game. I think that’s what’s annoyed him the most. He can’t get to me, so he’s getting to my boys instead.

So this time I’m calling his bluff. I’m going to play whenever he does. Bring it on.

And he does. Literally. As soon as I have the puck he makes a beeline for me, cross checking me with his stick, earning him a two minute stint in the sin bin.

When he’s back on the ice, he’s really pissed. Greg skates over and grabs his shoulders, whispering something I can’t hear. Hart nods, but then he looks over at me, his eyes narrowed.

I smile sweetly back at him.

Carter scores again, putting us ahead by two, and I’m grinning like a loon when I look up at the staff box. I can’t see my girl, but I know she’s there, wearing my shirt like she promised.

And I know she’s looking right down at me. That makes everything better. It also makes me distracted, and Hart takes advantage of it, skating behind me and jabbing his stick against my legs.

Of course I fall onto the ice, air escaping my lungs in a rush. Luckily, my knee is fine and I’m straight back up, but I taste blood in my mouth. My tooth must have pierced the inside of my bottom lip as I fell. There’s a small spot of blood on the ice which means I have to head for the bench to get my mouth cleaned. Simons jumps onto the ice to replace me as I skid into the break in the boards and make my way to the bench.

“You’re bleeding.” It takes me a moment to realize it’s Isabella talking. She’s sitting with her family and Wayne on the bench next to the team. Or at least she was. Now she’s standing, leaning over, holding something out to me. A tissue.

I take it and rub my mouth because there’s seriously hardly any blood and I want to keep on playing. She smiles and shakes her head. “Come here,” she says. So I lean forward and she grabs another tissue, wiping the corner of my lip, her fingers curled around my arm to steady herself.

“No fucking way.” Hart frowns, watching us. “You two?”

Isabella smiles then pulls me closer. Before I can say anything her mouth is on mine, kissing me like I’m the oxygen she needs. It’s only when I hear the huge roar of the crowd that I realize we’re on the big screen.

And everybody is watching.

I wrench away from her, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy looking over my shoulder.

“He’s much better than you in bed, too,” she shouts at Hart. “He actually knows how to make a girl feel good.”

“What the hell?” I frown. Is this really happening? People are on their feet, shouting and jeering. Phones are being held up, recording our every move. My heart hammers against my fucking chest because this is Mackenzie’s sister.

The one she’s only just forgiven. The one who broke her heart.

I want to shake some sense into Isabella but she doesn’t even know what she’s done. She doesn’t know about me and Mackenzie.

I’m just some guy she’s using to rile up Hart.

“You’re good to go,” the medic tells me, not that he did much for me anyway. And I’m still reeling, putting my helmet back on as I ready myself to get back on the ice.

“Are you and her a thing now?” Simons asks as he skates toward the bench, allowing me to replace him.

“No.” I shake my head as I vault onto the ice. I look up at the staff box but I can’t see Mac. Can’t see anybody. There are too many people, there’s too much noise.

“I need to get out of here,” I tell him, yelling above the cheers. I need to see her, explain. I can’t believe it was on the damn screen. Before I can say anything else I get body slammed by Hart. I don’t fall down this time, but I’m fucking winded and annoyed and about to erupt.

“Enjoy my leftovers, fuckface,” he tells me. “And by the way, her sister was much better.”

Blood rushes through my ears, almost matching the roar of the crowd.

And then I realize. He’s the guy. The one who broke the two of them apart. The one who abandoned Mac when she went viral.

Danny Hart.

I’m a fucking idiot. If I hadn’t been so distracted by the game I would have realized earlier. No wonder he and Isabella were fighting it out.

He’s the one that tore the family apart. And now my girl, the woman I fucking love, had to see this happen again. Watch her sister kiss her boyfriend.

Red mist descends. I throw my gloves to the ice and he does the same, before I launch myself at him. “Fuck you, asshole,” I tell him, grabbing his chin because he needs to hear what I have to say.

In the part of my brain that’s still working I hazily register that play has stopped. The referees are surrounding us, monitoring the fight.

Hart grabs my jersey, pulling me toward him and I push him hard. His face is screwed up and angry, but I’m angrier. I’m fucking furious at him. He hurt Mac. He hurt me. I’m so ready for this game to be over.

And then he spits in my face. I feel it hit my cheek and it makes me want to heave. Through the ringing in my ears I hear the screaming crowd.

They think I’m defending Isabella. Damn. This needs to be finished.

This time I mean business. I push him until he’s down and I’m on top of him, my fist back and ready for impact. But then a hand grabs my arm. Two referees pull me backward, putting five feet of air between me and the asshole who hurt my girl.

“I’m stopping,” I mutter. “Let me go.”

So they do and I wipe the spittle from my cheek and slowly heave myself up, skating backward as Hart does the same.

I don’t need to look at the referee to know what I need to do next. I’m heading to the penalty box. Even worse, we’ll be a man down because I instigated the damn fight. This time I can’t even look up at the box to see if Mac is there. Or at the team because the kids I’ve been working with all year have watched me lose it on the ice.

I’m completely ashamed. But also annoyed. I should have punched that asshole.

My ass hits the bench as the referee whistles and the game plays on.