Breakaway

Chapter Fourteen

Remi looked at her watch again. Seven o’clock and Jason still hadn’t called. She’d assumed they would spend the evening together, as they had been lately. Where was he?

She rubbed her neck and shoulders. She’d spent the afternoon grading papers and planning a big class project she was going to get the kids working on next week. Her mind kept veering off, though, thinking about selling the house, thinking about moving in with Jason… Pinwheels spun in her tummy every time she thought about that. God. Live with Jason. Could she do it?

She was in love with him, wanted to be with him. But how hypocritical was it of her to tell Jasmine she shouldn’t buy a house with Ethan and then move in with a man she’d only known a few weeks? She pressed her fingers between her eyes where tiny hammers had started thumping.

She got up from the kitchen table where she’d been working and stretched, then sighed. Maybe she should call Jason and see what had happened to him. She hoped everything was okay.

Her heart stuttered. Maybe he’d been hurt in practice that morning. God. He could be sitting in a hospital right now.

She punched in his cell phone number. Waited. “The cellular customer you are calling is not available.”

She looked at her phone with a frown. He had his cell phone off? That was unusual. She called the number at his apartment, but it rang and then went to voice mail.

Should she leave a message? Sure, why not. “Hi Jase, it’s me. It’s just after seven, just wondering what happened to you. If you get this, give me a call and let me know you’re okay. Bye.”

She hoped that sounded casual enough.

She walked to the front window to look out on the dark street, as if Jason might just drive up at any minute. What if he regretted making that impulsive offer of moving in together? Was he avoiding her? She rolled her eyes. Even if he did have second thoughts, surely he was mature enough to just tell her. She could take it. All he had to say was, “Hey, let’s not rush things” and she’d be fine. She didn’t want to rush things either.

In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she’d do it. If she had to sell the house—and that was just one more thing she was undecided on—it would probably be better for her to get her own apartment or something. It would be the sensible, responsible thing to do.

She’d always been sensible and responsible.

Since she’d met Jason, she’d done things she’d never have dreamed of—picking up a guy and taking him home, hot sexual adventures, flying off to California for a sexy weekend. Crazy. Moving in with him would be the craziest thing of all.

But there was no denying how much she wanted that. How much she wanted to wake up with him every morning, to go to bed with him every night, to cheer him on and share his triumphs and yes, his losses, because he would have those. To be there for him.

She’d come a long way from wanting nothing to do with him because of paparazzi stalkers, aggressive female fans and a huge paycheck. Now—she loved him. None of that mattered.

She also had to admit she liked how he was there for her. How supportive he’d been when Kyle had been freaking out, even though she’d been annoyed at him. How steady he’d been when she’d been ambushed by Jasmine’s request. She’d been thinking about it all week and she longed for him to be there so she could share all her confused feelings about selling the house. How it was more than just a house, it was their home. But yet, if Jasmine and Kyle didn’t live there anymore, there was no real logical, rational reason not to sell it. Truthfully, the cash would help pay for Kyle’s tuition. Or she could insist he invest it and save it as a down payment on a home of his own one day.

But Jason wasn’t there to talk to about it.

She moved away from the window to wander around her house, straightening things, wiping the counter that was already spotless, staring into space.

Maybe she could find a movie on TV to keep her occupied for a while. She sat down on the couch and flicked through the channels, finding a chick flick she’d already seen, but hey, without Jason there, it was a good time to watch it again.

She fell asleep with the television on and woke up feeling groggy and disoriented. She still hadn’t heard from Jason. And she didn’t hear from him all day Sunday either, until her cell phone rang at nearly ten o’clock when she was getting ready for bed, heart heavy and aching, stomach cramped with worry.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” It was Jason. She recognized his voice even in that one word.

“Jase. Where are you?”

“St. Louis.”

“Oh.”

“I…” He stopped. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. Uh…something came up and…I’m really sorry, Remi.”

“Is everything okay, Jase? You sound funny.” She pushed her bangs off her face. Something clutched at her heart and squeezed, sending scary feelings through her, shivery, worried feelings.

“I’m okay. I just wanted to call you. I wanted to…” He stopped again. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Listen, I’ll call you when I get back.”

“Sure. That’s fine.” Her stomach churned. Something felt wrong. He did not sound like himself. “Good luck tomorrow night. I’ll be watching.”

“Thanks, Remi.” There was a long pause, then he said, “I love you, Remi.”

“Oh.” Her heart squeezed. “I love you too.”

She hung up with trembling fingers, closing her burning eyes. She’d go to bed, get a good night’s sleep and in the morning everything would be fine.

But Monday morning she discovered how not fine things were. Skimming through the morning paper while she drank coffee, she flipped the page and her eyes were immediately drawn to a small headline—“Chicago Wolves player arrested for disorderly conduct.”

She leaned forward, frowning. “Saturday night, Chicago Wolves center Jase Heller was arrested at Sage Restaurant. According to restaurant manager Brian Smythe, Heller had arrived at the restaurant with a group of teammates at about nine o’clock. When advised of the dress code by the hostess and told that he could not enter the restaurant wearing blue jeans, Heller became angry and argumentative. When Mr. Smythe reinforced the restaurant policy and again told Heller he could not enter wearing blue jeans, Heller stripped off his jeans and walked into the restaurant in his underwear. Restaurant personnel asked Heller to leave, but he refused. Police were called and Heller was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct, public intoxication and resisting arrest. He was later released on bail.”

Remi sat frozen in her chair, her coffee forgotten. What the hell? Arrested? He’d taken off his pants in a classy restaurant and made a scene?

At least he’d been wearing underwear.

She wanted to disbelieve that this could have been Jason, but the black letters on the page popped out at her as if they were in big, bold font.

She shook her head. There must be some mistake. This was not possible.

The coffee she’d drank burbled in her stomach and threatened to come back up. She shook her head. What was going on? This was insane.

April fool’s day had passed days ago. This couldn’t be a prank. But he hadn’t said a word of this when they’d talked last night and her sense of unease and dread grew.

She had to go to work.

As if she could concentrate on thirty energetic kids. But she had no choice. In fact, she was going to be late.

She drove to school in a daze, thoughts tumbling around in her head like laundry in a dryer. Nothing made sense. She felt lost, like she was wandering through a maze, not sure which way to turn, smacking up against walls, desperate to get out.

What had she gotten herself into? Had she fallen in love with a nut job? Had he fooled her that well?

No. No. They loved each other. She had no doubt about the depth of their feelings for each other, which only made the situation more bizarre. In her wildest imaginings, she could not come up with something that reasonably explained this.

All day it took monstrous effort to stay focused enough to teach, to keep things under control with a group of pre-teens who looked for any weakness, any small crack that would give them the advantage, because once they started it was even harder to bring them back.

By the time the bell rang at the end of the day, she was exhausted.

And worried sick. She hadn’t been able to eat lunch and certainly wasn’t interested in dinner.

She had to talk to someone, so when she got home she called Delise and told her what had happened. Delise hadn’t seen the newspaper article, but sounded as shocked and confused as Remi felt.

“Don’t even say I told you so,” Remi said fiercely.

“I won’t. Do you want me to come over?”

“Um…maybe. I’m going to watch the game on TV.” Seeing Jason on television would at least reassure her that he was alive and functioning.

“I’ll come over. I’ll bring popcorn and beer.”

She didn’t want popcorn and beer, but didn’t say anything, letting Delise think she was helping.

“Thank you for coming,” she said later, as they sat side by side on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them. Delise was munching and Remi’d picked up a few kernels, but they tasted like she was eating dog kibble. One beer on an empty stomach had her a little woozy. She kept her eyes glued to the television, watching for Jason.

He was there. She caught sight of number twenty-five in the line as the national anthem played, but the cameraman apparently wasn’t as interested in him as she was and passed right by him.

“He’s there,” she breathed.

“So, that’s good.”

“I guess.” Maybe she would have felt better if he’d still been in jail or if he’d actually been hospitalized with a head injury and amnesia.

Jason did not take the opening face-off. In fact, as the game progressed, he didn’t play a lot, and when he was on the ice he seemed sluggish and slow. Was he sick? Icy fingers squeezed her insides painfully. “Oh, Delise,” she said, her voice coming out shaky. “Something’s wrong.”

Delise glanced at her and patted her leg, but Remi could tell she didn’t know what to say. Had she been rudely dumped? Or was there really something wrong? She nibbled her bottom lip until it was raw. The Wolves were not playing well as a team, and going into the third period, the score was three-one for St. Louis. Not a good start.

Even she could tell the Wolves were frustrated.

Then they got two quick goals and tied it up. They both cheered, but it didn’t make her feel much better. Gut-gnawing anxiety still chewed away inside her.

Another nail-biter, the clock ticking away time. She wasn’t sure if the same thing happened in a playoff game, if they did a shootout or if they kept playing, but she knew it couldn’t end in a tie.

The Wolves got a few more great shots on the net, but the St Louis goalie made some heart-stopping saves. She watched as Dominic smacked his stick into the boards with frustration. Where was Jason? Why weren’t they playing him much? They needed him!

And then, with only a minute forty-three seconds left in the game, there he was, circling on the ice, ready for a face-off. He crouched, alert, poised. The camera zoomed in on him and the St. Louis center, who said something to Jason. Jason said something back.

Remi had a feeling they weren’t making a bet on who’d pay for dinner after.

The ref dropped the puck and Jason smacked at it, but didn’t get control. The camera followed the puck, but then the crowd was screaming, the whistle blew and the television screen filled with an image of two players going at it, gloves off, fists flying, shirts wrenched.

“Oh dear God.” She felt her eyes go wide and her mouth hung open. She covered it with her hands. It was Jason in a fight.

Delise and Remi both sat forward, the popcorn forgotten. Remi couldn’t breathe and her heart accelerated.

The two men continued to hammer at each other and she swore she felt every punch that landed on Jason as if they struck her own body. She flinched and tensed. The refs circled them, the other players drifted over to the boards near their respective benches.

Then Jason dropped the other guy to the ice and fell onto him, punching at his face with fierce, frenzied blows.

“Jesus!” She pressed her hands to her mouth, wanted to cover her eyes, look away. She couldn’t stand it. “What are you doing?” she shouted at the television, as if he could hear her. “Stop, Jason. Stop it!”

The refs finally pulled Jason off the other player and dragged him away, bleeding from his face, chest heaving, hands still in fists.

They went to a commercial.

She shook her head, beside herself. She wanted to teleport herself to St. Louis, find him and scream at him. She just did not get it.

She knew fighting was a part of hockey, a big part. She and Jason had talked about it, how he didn’t condone fighting just for the sake of fighting, but with high adrenaline and intense competition it was going to happen sometimes, and it was okay if it was for some noble purpose like defending another player or protecting the goalie. Although she didn’t exactly get what was noble about beating someone up.

She’d never seen Jason fight, but then she’d only seen a couple of games. He wasn’t known as a fighter. He was known as a smart player, big, but quick-thinking and intuitive, a player who used finesse rather than his fists.

Delise looked at her, her lips rolled in. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. She didn’t even know what to say. She stood. She walked back and forth in front of the television until the game came back on, arms wrapped around herself.

Jason had, of course, been given a penalty. She didn’t understand it all, apparently he got more than one penalty, but in the end, the Wolves were shorthanded for the rest of the game. And guess what? St. Louis scored.

And won the game, thanks to Jason Heller’s stupid penalty.

“Think, Remi, think.”

She replayed everything over in her head. “He asked me to think about moving in with him,” she told Delise, meeting her eyes. It shouldn’t have been enough to scare him into panic-mode and send him running the opposite direction, but she didn’t rule that out, because she knew why he’d broken up with Brianne.

“For some reason he ended up out with his hockey buddies Saturday night. He must have had a lot to drink for him to drop his pants in a restaurant and create a scene like that.”

“Maybe he was celebrating making the playoffs,” Delise suggested, her face somber.

Remi paced around her living room, not really seeing anything.

“No.” She shook her head. “The playoffs already started. I can’t imagine why he’d do that. But clearly, he got carried away, drank a bit too much, got arrested…” she rolled her eyes, “and was too embarrassed to tell me. But that doesn’t explain why he played so little tonight or why he got in that fight that cost the game.”

“I don’t know, Remi.”

“Something’s wrong.” After examining all the facts, she concluded that something was definitely wrong. Clammy-hands, heart-freezing, gut-churning wrong. And if he wasn’t going to tell her what it was, she was going to go to him and make him.

Except he was in another city. Dammit. And he wouldn’t be back in Chicago until Thursday.

Jason sat down in his coach’s office, his insides a mass of twisted nerves.

“Okay, Jase. What’s going on?”

He was getting tired of that question. Tired of hearing it, tired of trying to talk his way around it.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You go out and get wasted last weekend, act like an asshole, get arrested, show up for practice the next day so hungover your face was green and you could barely skate. Then you get in a stupid fight and take a dumbass penalty that cost us our first playoff game. Last night you didn’t play much better.”

Jason slumped in the chair, unable to meet Dan’s eyes.

“You’re saying that’s nothing?”

He shook his head.

Dan waited. “Fuck.” He shook his head, his mouth tight. “Okay, then. If nothing’s wrong, get your shit together and act like the professional you are. We’ve got another game tomorrow night, and if we lose, we only have one more chance. We need you, Jase, but I won’t hesitate to bench you if you aren’t able to get your head in the game. This is not the time to be out drinking and partying and acting like an irresponsible teenager.”

Jason winced.

He rubbed his forehead.

“You’re better than this, Jase,” Dan continued, his voice easing.

Shit. Jason’s stomach rolled over.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help.”

And that did it.

Jason leaned one elbow on the armrest of the chair and covered his eyes while he tried to get his tight throat to relax enough to speak. He tried and nothing came out. Cleared his throat. Swallowed.

“I found out on Saturday that my ex-girlfriend is pregnant.”

Silence. Then, “Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Jason took his hand away and met Dan’s eyes. “It’s not that…I don’t want…fuck.” He swallowed again. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been seeing someone else—someone I really care about. Christ! I don’t want to hurt her.”

Dan nodded and leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah, I guess I see the problem. So she’s pretty upset about this?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Oh. Jesus, Jase. You gotta tell her.”

“I can’t tell her.” Anguish slammed into him like a body check. “I don’t know what to tell her, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Am I supposed to break up with her so I can be with Brianne? So we can get back together and be parents to this baby? Am I supposed to ask Brianne to marry me?” His voice cracked.

“Oh, man.” Dan rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know the answers to those questions, Jase. I can’t tell you what to do. But a couple things I can tell you. First of all—you have to deal with this. We’re in the playoffs. We need you here and present, mind and body and soul, every game, all sixty minutes. You can’t let your personal life interfere with your professional life.”

Jason nodded. “I know.” He felt like dog crap on the sidewalk about how unprofessional he’d been. He tightened his mouth.

“And I can tell you that you’re a good man. You’ve got a good, solid background—your parents brought you up right. Yeah, you’re young.”

“I’m twenty-nine.” Not a kid. Not like Remi’s younger brother wanting her to bail him out of missing an exam. Jason was old enough to be taking responsibility for his own mistakes, just like he’d urged Remi to make her brother do.

Dan waved a hand. “From where I’m at, you’re young. But you’re right. You’re a grown man and you need to figure this out. You need to do the right thing.”

“I don’t know what the right thing is. The right thing for me is different than the right thing for Brianne. And for our child. And for Remi.” He rubbed the ache in his chest. “I don’t want to be selfish, but…I just don’t know.”

“Go,” Dan said. “We’re done with our practice. You’ve got the rest of today and tomorrow to figure this out. Go do what you need to do, but I expect you here tomorrow night for the game, a hundred percent ready to play.”

Jason nodded and stood. He felt like a teenager in trouble for staying out past curfew, except this was a way worse infraction than that. He left Dan’s office, trying to keep his head up. He got what Dan was telling him. They paid him big bucks to play hockey, not to mope around with his head up his ass, pouting because things weren’t going his way.

Yeah. He had to deal with this. He still didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but one thing he knew—he had to tell Remi.