Any Man of Mine

Chapter Sixteen

Any Man of Mine:

Is Observant

Even before Autumn opened her eyes, she knew he was gone. Of course he was. He had a game in New Jersey, and he wouldn’t be home for five days. She touched the indent his head had left in her pillow.

What if I fall in love with you? Last night hadn’t been the first time he’d mentioned love. He’d said the same thing earlier in her office. The first time, she’d just thought he was saying it because she’d had her hand down his pants. The second time because he’d had his hand on her breast. Men couldn’t be trusted during sex and were likely to say anything.

Autumn sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She hurriedly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt so Conner wouldn’t catch her stark naked in bed.

Five years ago, Sam had married her and never mentioned love. Never even hinted at it, and she’d just assumed he’d loved her. Look where that had gotten her.

She glanced at her bedside clock, then walked across the hall to Conner’s room. He lay on his side, his arms stretched out, and his eyes were already open. “Get up, lazy.” Conner would start Christmas vacation next week, but of course he wouldn’t think of sleeping in. Which meant she wouldn’t get to sleep in either.

He sat up in his new sailboat bedding and his Handy Manny pajamas. She wondered how much longer he’d like Manny. How much longer until Manny went the same way as Barney. “Can I have heart pancakes?” he asked.

“Yes.” She smiled. He was still her boy. For a while yet anyway. “Yes, you can.”

For the next five days, Autumn fell into her normal routine. Only it didn’t feel so normal. Not without Sam, and she felt uneasy about how quickly that had all changed. During the day, she tried not to think about him, and at night when he called, she tried to ignore the heated rush warming her skin and pulling at her heart. At the sound of his voice, she bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Friday night, he returned home. To her home, like they were a family. “How was your day, honey?” he asked as he slid into bed. She talked to him about the Ross twins and their latest wants and needs for their July wedding. She told him about Chelsea’s breast reduction surgery scheduled for the next week.

“Ah. That’s why Mark is taking a few weeks off.” He lifted her hand and looked at her fingers. “Although I don’t know why she’d want to do something like that.”

“Probably because of backaches.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” He looked at her, his blue eyes serious. “You’d never do something like that. Right?”

She didn’t have double D’s, so she didn’t have to worry about it. “No.”

“Good. I like you just the way you are.” When he said sweet things like that, she could almost forget that he was a self-indulgent jock who spent most of his time in a locker room.

“I have a weird little toe,” she felt compelled to point out.

“That’s okay, honey. Your rack makes up for it. You have a great rack, and I don’t think that makes me a perv. Just observant.”

She laughed because he was totally serious.

Two nights later, she and Conner went to his game against the Carolina Hurricanes. They wore Chinook T-shirts and bought hot dogs and Cokes and tried not to cringe when Sam got knocked around or put the “big hurt” on someone. He skated up and down the ice, passing the puck or firing so fast Autumn lost track of it altogether. She noticed that he talked a lot out on the ice, and she was sure she was better off not knowing what he said. Especially when he had to sit out four minutes in the penalty box.

“That player there”-Conner pointed to a Carolina player-“is crashing Dad’s zone. He’s not going to like that.”

Autumn really didn’t have a clue what her son was talking about until Sam slammed the player into the boards and the Plexiglas shook. Autumn gasped as he dug at the puck with his stick and shot it down ice. He looked up, sweat dripping down his nose. For one brief second, his gaze met hers, and he smiled.

Suddenly she knew how that Carolina player felt. Like she was getting slammed around. Like he was putting the “big hurt” on her, only she liked it and wanted more.

Her chest got kind of tight and panicky. She had to pull back. She didn’t trust Sam. She didn’t trust herself. Like before, everything was moving too fast. And this time, if and when it ended, she wasn’t the only one who would suffer.

And yet, that night he came to her house like he belonged there. He said good night to Conner, then moved into the kitchen. “Do you have any frozen peas in here?” he asked as he opened the freezer.

He wore black sweatpants, a blue Chinooks T-shirt, and a big red mark on his cheek. “Mixed veggie medley.”

“That’ll do.” He took it out and shoved the bag beneath the elastic of his sweats. “The organization just hired a new forward from Russia.”

She smiled. She liked how he told her things about his day and asked about hers.

“He’s young, though,” Sam continued. “Seems kind of irresponsible, selfish, and reckless.”

He sounded like a hockey player to her, and she lifted a brow and looked at him.

He chuckled. “I’m not that reckless these days.”

“Well, I guess one out of three is…” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “… progress.”

He grinned like a proud, reformed sinner. “I’m working on the other two.”

She leaned her behind against the counter and folded her arms across the fish on her shirt. “You might want to work a bit harder.”

“I have been working harder. I thought maybe you noticed.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Maybe you should show me some appreciation.” He grasped her forearms and slid them around his waist. “Show some encouragement.”

And she did. She encouraged the hell out of him all night long, but the next morning, he was gone. They’d both agreed that he should not be there in the morning when Conner got up. Or rather, she’d set down the rule, and Sam had reluctantly agreed. He didn’t see anything wrong with Conner seeing so much of his parents together, but he clearly wasn’t thinking about the future. About the day when he wouldn’t be around as much. Autumn thought about it, though. A lot. Thought about it and felt like she was sitting around, waiting for the axe to fall on her throat.

“I made a picture,” Conner told her at the breakfast table the next morning. While she poured his Cheerios, he ran to his art station. Conner was officially on Christmas break from school, and she had an event planned for a local charity that afternoon at the Four Seasons. Normally, she’d take Conner to his day care, but Sam wanted to spend time with him before hitting the road for Chicago later that night. She expected him at eleven after his morning practice.

Conner ran back into the dining room and set a piece of white notebook paper on the table. “Come look, Mom.”

Autumn poured herself a cup of coffee and sat next to Conner. On the paper beside his cereal bowl, he’d drawn a picture of her and Sam with himself in the middle. The figures were all holding hands and had big lopsided smiles. For the first time, he’d drawn them all as a family. “This is you and me and Dad.”

Her stomach fell as she drank her coffee. “That’s a good picture. I like my pink skirt.” She swallowed hard. “But you know your daddy just comes over sometimes to see you. Right? He doesn’t live here.”

Conner shrugged. “He can if he wants.”

“He has his apartment downtown.”

“But he can move here. Josh F’s dad lives at his house with him.”

“Conner, not all dads live in the same house with their children. Not all families are like Josh F’s. Some families have two dads,” she said to take his mind of things that weren’t going to happen. “Or two moms.”

Conner shoveled Cheerios into his mouth. “Dad can move in if he wants to, Mom. He has a big truck.” Like it was just a matter of Sam packing up his truck and moving in. “And then you can make me a little brother.”

She gasped. “What? You want a brother?”

Conner nodded. “Josh F. has a little brother. So Dad has to move here so I can have a brother.”

“Don’t get your heart set on it, Conner.” He suddenly wanted his parents under the same roof and a brother?

“Please, Mom?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said by rote, her mind tumbling as fast as her stomach. A brother for Conner wasn’t going to happen.

She pushed her coffee aside, the acid burning a hole in her chest. There had been a time when she’d wanted the same thing as Conner. She’d wanted it in Vegas, and the day she’d signed the divorce papers. She wanted it the night she’d discovered she was pregnant and the morning she’d given birth to their son. She’d loved Sam. It had taken her a long time to get over him, and somehow, she’d fallen in love with him again. Only this time it was worse. This time it felt deeper, comfortable. Like they were friends and lovers. She actually knew him now, and it was so much worse than the first time. The first time, she’d fallen in love with a charming, intense stranger. This time she’d fallen for a charming, intense man. He was real.

She rose from the table and moved to her bedroom. She took a shower as if her nerves weren’t a wreck. As if her mind wasn’t racing and her heart not pounding. She got ready for her day and dressed in a pair of black wool pants and cashmere sweater with pearls on the collar. Her hands shook as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

She loved him, and there was a tiny piece of her silly heart that held out hope that maybe he loved her this time, too. He’d joked about it twice, but that’s all it had been. A joke. Like before.

This time she wasn’t a scared twenty-five-year-old. This time she knew the outcome.

The sound of Conner’s current favorite movie blared from the television as Sam walked downstairs to Autumn’s basement office. He wanted to talk about Christmas and spending it together that year.

He paused in the doorway to watch her profile for a few moments. Her red ponytail slid over one shoulder and brushed her white throat as she slid a planner into her tote. He swallowed past the sudden constriction in his throat. He remembered a time when he’d looked at her and hadn’t even thought she was beautiful. Hadn’t wanted to think it. Had purposely dated women the exact opposite of Autumn, so he wouldn’t be reminded of her and the reasons he’d fallen for her in Vegas. He outweighed her by about a hundred pounds at least, but she had the power to wipe the floor with him.

“When will you be home?” he asked.

She looked up and quickly glanced back down. “Late. You should probably stay at your own place.”

Something was wrong. Different. It was there in the ridged stillness that suddenly surrounded her. “I’ll be gone for eight days,” he reminded her.

She turned and grabbed a pen off her desk. “Conner will look forward to your nightly calls.”

He cleared the constriction in his throat. “Will you look forward to my calls?”

She pulled open a drawer but didn’t answer.

He moved into the room and took her arm. “What’s going on, Autumn?”

She looked up at him, and he saw it. In her green eyes. The look he’d never hoped to see again. Pain and uncertainty and withdrawal. Like the first time she’d laid Conner in his arms. “Conner is confused,” she said, and she took a step back, separating herself from him with more than just space. “I think it’s best if we don’t spend as much time together.”

This had little to do with Conner. Frustration tightened his skull, and he wanted to shake her. He purposely loosened his grip and dropped his hand. “You can’t keep blowing hot and cold. You can’t pull me in even as you push me away.” He took a step back, too. To protect himself from the pain rushing at him. “You can’t keep looking at me like you expect me to break your heart at any moment.”

“And you can’t expect me not to.”

Something happened between the time he left last night and now. What it was didn’t matter. “I’m not going to hurt you, Autumn. I promise.”

“You can’t make that promise.”

He held out a hand. “Honey, just trust me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“This is about Vegas.” He dropped his hand. “Still.”

“It happened, Sam.”

“You’re right. It did, but we were different people then.” He pointed to himself. “I was different. I’m not asking you to forget what happened. I don’t believe that’s even possible for either of us. But if you can’t get past it, then how can we move forward with our lives?” How could they make a life together? Something he wanted as badly as he’d ever wanted anything in his life. More than winning the Stanley Cup, he wanted to win his family.

She shook her head, and the pain in her eyes tore at his heart even as it pissed him off. “I don’t know.” She picked up her tote and headed toward the door. “I have to go.”

Sam watched Autumn leave, and it was one of the hardest things he’d ever forced himself to do. Over the sound of Conner’s movie, he heard the garage door shut down the hall. He loved her. He wanted a life with her. But he didn’t know if it was going to happen, and he didn’t know what to do.

He moved up the stairs, past Conner lying on the couch with a remote in one hand. “Can you turn down that TV?” he asked as he moved into the kitchen

The sound faded, and he opened the refrigerator. “Thank you.” All of his life, he’d fought hard for everything. He’d fought and, most of the time, he’d eventually won. He was dogged that way, but he wasn’t so sure he could win Autumn. She was an immovable force. Stubborn as hell, and he didn’t know if he had enough fight left in him to change her mind.

He took out a bottle of water and twisted off the top. The telephone hooked to the wall rang until it went to voice mail. Maybe he should just walk away. He wanted a future with her, but maybe there was too much damage for her to ever get over it. Maybe he should just get out now before he sank himself even further. Until he choked and went under completely.

The telephone immediately rang again. He was angry. If he was a violent man, he’d go kick the living shit out of someone. If he hadn’t just returned from the injured list, he might ram his head through the wall. The telephone kept ringing, a nagging annoyance snapping his control. He walked across the floor and glanced at the caller identification. Normally, he would have just picked up the receiver and slammed it back down.

Instead he picked up. “Hello?”

“You have a collect call,” the automated voice said, “from… Vince… an inmate at Clark County Jail. Will you accept the charges?”