The team lost game five in Vegas and made the long, depressing trip back home, now down in the series 3-2. It had been a close one that went to double overtime, but in the end the Sidewinders prevailed and the Blizzard had no choice but to focus on the next one, which would be the last one if they didn’t win.
“We can do this,” Laurel told them the next day at practice. “You did everything right. Sometimes the puck just bounces the other way, and the calls weren’t in our favor either. But we’ve got this. We looked good out there. Now, let’s get to work.” She motioned to Marshall and Dani, who’d been helping with drills for this round of the playoffs. With just two coaches, it was doable, but three was better and the guys both liked and respected Dani, so they didn’t have a problem with her helping at practices.
On the other hand, fatigue was kicking Laurel’s ass, and she sank down on the bench to rest for a minute. She distinctly remembered this from her last pregnancy. She hadn’t even seen a doctor yet this time, but she had no doubt the fourteen tests she’d taken were right. Looking at the calendar, she’d figured she was about seven or eight weeks along. Based on the online due date calculator she’d used, if she’d gotten pregnant one of the first times they’d made love, she was nine weeks along. If it had been a week or two later, then about seven. Ovulation added two weeks or something, and though she didn’t quite understand how that worked, since she put in the date as if she knew for sure she’d gotten pregnant that first night, she now had a due date: January 17. It was a little creepy because her due date the last time had been January 7. Their wedding anniversary had been June 17, her birthday was July 7, and his was November 7. Far too many sevens in their lives.
“You okay, Coach?” Sergei asked, skating up to her and cocking his head.
He most likely knew everything going on in her life since she would never ask Dani to keep secrets from her husband, so she nodded.
“Just getting some water. I’ll be right there.”
Practice was long and by the time it was over, Laurel needed a nap. Thank god there wasn’t anything going on tonight. She had a long soak in the tub and an early bedtime on the agenda, so unless Gage called or showed up, she didn’t even want to think about anything else.
Chains fell into step beside her as they headed out to the waiting car. He’d been staying at the house with her, though she rarely saw him until it was time to leave in the morning.
“Are you going out tonight?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I have a date with the tub and my bed.”
He grinned. “Sounds about right. I’ll skip the tub, but I’ve a new book to read and a family that wants to video chat.”
“Sounds like a plan. I think Wenda is making dinner.”
“Meatloaf.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Made a little bet on the last game and she lost.”
“You bet against the Blizzard?” she demanded in mock horror.
He gave a little shrug. “The Sidewinders’ goalie is my brother-in-law and two of my children were fathered by men on that team. I kind of have to.”
“Gage is going to fire you,” she teased.
“He’s not here, now, is he?”
They laughed together as they walked out to the limo.
“Coach.” Matt Forbes’ voice was quiet, almost meek, and Laurel turned in frustration.
“You’re not supposed to be here, mate,” Chains said quietly, putting himself between Matt and Laurel.
The younger man raised his hands. “I come in peace. Can I talk to you for a minute? Please?”
“I go where she goes,” Chains said, folding his arms across his impressive chest.
Matt nodded. “Yeah, cool, whatever.”
“What’s on your mind?” Laurel asked him.
“I wanted to apologize. I acted like an ass, but I…” He looked away. “I was high. A lot. Coach Sylvester was my dealer and he got me through the no-notice tests, but I’ve been struggling with addiction for a long time. After my ex and I broke up, I started partying and couldn’t stop, and when I’m high I say stupid shit. I’m in rehab now, trying to get my shit together, and I know I have no right to ask, but I’d really like to be allowed to be at the games. I can still get in, but I don’t want to sneak around. I was part of this team all year and even though I can’t play, I really want to cheer them on from the box.”
Laurel sighed. She wanted to say no, but part of her felt bad. Addiction was no different than any other disease, and she wouldn’t deny a player with cancer that opportunity, so why would she say no to this?
“It’s okay with me, but if you act up at all, you’re gone. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I do. Oh, and by the way…I have something for you.” He handed her some folded sheets of paper.
“What is it?” she asked in confusion.
“Your essay.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing, but Matt made a “hurry up” gesture. “Go on,” he said. “I know you want to.”
She allowed herself a short laugh. “Thank you. I’ll read this when I get home and let you know how you did.”
“Thanks again.” Matt jogged off to his car.
Chains looked at Laurel. “I did not see that coming.”
When they got home, Laurel immediately went up to the master bedroom and got undressed. She ran a bath and slowly sank down, letting her mind and body relax. Taking baths had become one of her favorite things and she did it as often as possible. She didn’t want to soak too long tonight. She planned to eat something and then watch a little tape before getting to sleep. Her goal was to be asleep by eight.
After thirty minutes, she grudgingly got out and wrapped herself in Gage’s robe, loving the masculine scent that was so personal to him. God, she missed him. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about him much the last day or two, but she wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever. Not only did she love him, she was having his baby. Again. No matter how hurt she was over his deception, it paled in light of the baby she carried.
She padded out to the bedroom and was surprised to see a box with her name on it on the bed. She opened it slowly and pulled out the note on top. It was in his spidery scrawl—he truly had the worst handwriting—and she braced herself, wondering if this was somehow the end.
Hey, babe. I know I’ve fucked up, again, and I’m sorry, but the idea of losing you is unacceptable. I don’t know what I can say to express just how much I regret what’s happened, but I’ll do anything and everything, whatever it takes, to make it right. Including this. The papers in this box are a reflection of what you are to me—everything. Gage.
Frowning, she pulled out the papers and tried to understand what they were. She’d steeled herself for something that would cut all the ties between them, but that’s not what this was. She took in the key words and kept reading until her vision blurred and she sank to the floor, papers in hand.
Transfer of assets.
Deeds.
It was literally everything.
Everything he owned.
And he’d turned it all over to her.
Tears slipped down her face and she clutched the sheaf of papers to her chest. She loved this man so much and he’d just given her all of his assets, which totaled well over a billion dollars. Just to show her how he felt.
She grabbed her phone and dialed his number. It went to voicemail again, and she left another message. “I need you to come home, Gage. Please come home. I have something important to tell you. Oh, and I love you.”
After feeling sorry for himself for a couple of days, Gage was already getting restless. He might not crave the excitement of being a spy anymore, but he sure as hell needed something to do. Lying around all day wasn’t for him. Maybe if Laurel had been here, but without her, this had gotten old fast.
He’d gotten her message yesterday but opted not to call her right away. He had to do things right this time. It sounded like she’d forgiven him, or was well on the way to, but he didn’t want to muck things up anymore. So the first thing he had to do was make sure Carol was completely gone from their lives.
He dialed a number he hadn’t called in a long time and was grateful to hear his old friend’s voice.
“Caldwell! How’s it goin’, buddy?” His friend Quentin Reed sounded as jolly as ever.
“Not too bad. How are things with you?”
“Oh, you know, holdin’ down the fort. Not all of us are zillionaires who can ride off into the sunset and retire in our thirties.”
“She actually turned in the letter?” Gage was caught off guard.
“Huh?” Quentin sounded confused.
“How’d you know I retired?”
Quentin was quiet for a beat. “Dude, you in trouble or somethin’?”
“No, I…” He paused. “I gave Carol my letter of resignation a few weeks ago but she said she wouldn’t accept it.”
“Why would you give it to Carol?”
“Who else would I give it to? She’s my handler.”
“Gage, you sure everything is okay? Are you trying to tell me something?”
“No, I’m trying to ask you something. Why wouldn’t I give Carol my resignation?”
“Because she doesn’t work here anymore. She’s been out of the CIA nearly two years.”