24. Grey

Grey

" I 've lost her, man." I took a large swig from my beer, nearly choking on the thickness that suddenly swelled in my throat.

It finally slid downward into my belly, burning along the way. I suspected I'd be in no shape for driving if I kept up the drinking pace I'd already set. I didn't need to lose my keys again and the tatted bartender already eyed me sidelong several times.

"How do you know that?" Devon asked. "Did she say so?"

"Not in so many words."

"You're gonna break something by jumping to those conclusions."

I snorted, then wiped the beer that invaded my nostrils. "Look, as soon as she could, she moved back to her apartment."

"She's independent."

"She's been keeping me at a distance," I went on. "Her barriers are back up."

Devon drank from his own bottle, gazing up at the television over the bar. I, too, watched the weather station predict warmer weather arriving for the week. Moody, depressed, I found no joy in the break from the bitter and horrible cold and snow. Without Ellie, I found little joy in anything.

"Look," Devon said, "give her space. I think she needs it. After what Colton did, she may need time to figure things out."

"Like what?"

Shrugging, he replied, "If I was a pregnant chick whose potential baby daddy is a vindictive son of a bitch, I'd need time to think about my future. And my kid's future."

"She has one with me," I nearly moaned.

"Yeah, but think about it, bro: You might be the baby daddy's daddy. You three are in a very bizarre situation."

"Tell me about it."

"The playoffs are in two weeks." Devon turned his face to meet my eyes. "We need you, bro. I mean, need you at a hundred percent, ready to rock and roll. Toronto will be after your ass, big time."

I nodded. "I'll be ready."

"You sure about that?"

"I have to be."

Devon nodded, thumped me on my shoulder. "How's Colton?"

"He goes back to court the week after the playoffs," I said, my eyes on the TV. "I haven't spoken to him, nor do I want to."

"Think he'll do jailtime?"

"No," I admitted. "He's had a clean record till now, a good paying job, he admitted his guilt. I believe he'll get probation."

"That might not be all bad."

Staring at the TV without seeing it, I wondered how I felt about my son. Any and all thoughts of Colton brought little more than confusion, despair, anger, and grief. My love for him, once unquestioned and absolute, had morphed into a fearful sort of hatred. I didn't want to hate my one and only son. But I feared I did so now.

"Talk to Ellie," Devon advised. "Clear things up with her. If you don't, I worry your head won't be where it's supposed to be come game time."

I nodded, taking another swig of my beer. "It'll be where it's supposed to be."

***

Ellie opened her door a crack, peering around the edge as though fearing what, or who, was on the other side. "Grey, it's late."

"Can I come in?"

After a slight hesitation, she opened it further. "Okay. I wasn't sleeping anyway."

I stepped inside, not liking the furtive glance she shot up and down the hallway outside before closing and locking us inside her apartment.

"He won't violate the restraining order," I assured her.

"He might."

As Ellie wore a thick sweater, I couldn't see the baby bump I knew lay under it. Nor could I slide my hand under there to feel it. Her body language, crossed arms, rounded shoulders and suspicious gaze informed me such a move might get me kicked in my balls.

"How are you?" I asked.

"I'm okay. You?"

I followed her into her front room where she'd been watching television.

Ellie clicked it off and beckoned me to sit. "Want a beer? I still have some since I'm not drinking anymore."

"No, I think I've had enough for the night."

She perched gingerly on the edge of her armchair. "I thought you'd been drinking."

"Yeah."

"So, why'd you come?" Ellie, her posture still defensive, met my eyes easily enough.

She had healed quickly in the last few weeks, her bruising and scrapes gone. The sling containing her left arm, wrapped tightly to her torso, indicated her collarbone needed more time to heal.

"Will you come to the big game?" I asked.

Her wide smile replaced the suspicion and warmed my soul through and through. "Of course. I can't wait."

"I'll send you a VIP ticket," I said, a thrill of hope gushing into my blood like a waterfall. "I'll even send a limo to pick you up."

"Just a cab," she said, blushing. "Or a Lyft."

I shook my head, smiling. "Nothing except a limo for you, baby. Don't worry about the expense. I'm so hot right now, I bet the team's owner will pop for it."

Ellie laughed, a sweet, uncomplicated sound. "I'm not a limo kind of girl."

We shared a warm smile; a deep connection I'd thought I'd lost. My love for her surged until I knew I'd never conceal it and it forced me to blurt what I'd hoped to simply ask.

"What's happened to us, Ellie? Do you not love me anymore?"

She looked away. "I think I still do."

"You think?"

Rising, she stood to walk to the window, her barriers back up full force.

"Grey," she began slowly, her back to me, "you have to understand…If Colton is my baby's father, what's to stop him from becoming violent again?"

"Me."

Ellie turned at the deadly note in my tone. "Maybe. Maybe not. I have to protect my child. If I let Colton see the baby, have visitations, I'm opening up both of us to his temper. I'm also standing between you and your son. That's not a place I like being."

"So you'd rather walk away from us both?" I demanded. "What about my rights as a father? What if the baby's mine?"

"Then I'd trust you to do what's right."

"Of course I will," I snapped. "How can you even doubt it?"

"I don't. I also don't want to force you to choose between me and Colton."

Lowering my head, I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. A headache loomed behind them, the excessive beer I'd drunk had created a weird sensation of not quite vertigo, and not exactly dizziness. My anger pulsed in my temples like a drum, a dull throbbing that threatened to spill into my stomach and cause me to barf.

"You are not standing between me and Colton," I said, my voice low. "He put himself on the wrong side."

"He did. But that doesn't change how I feel. If I'm not with either of you, then you might have a relationship with him. A good one."

"Only if he's the baby's father," I replied, weary, looking up at her. "If I am, he'll view my sleeping with you as a betrayal. There may not be any going back after that."

Ellie nodded. "Yeah, I see your point."

"I love you, Ellie. I don't want to lose you."

"Will you turn your back on Colton to keep me?"

"If I have to."

Swinging back to the window, Ellie stared out, her reflection clear in the glass. "I need time, Grey. I have to sort things out for myself. Do what's best for both me and the baby."

"I know."

"I'll come watch you play. We have time to figure things out before the baby's born."

"And if you decide you don't love me?"

My heart beat faster as Ellie turned, her arms hovering protectively over her stomach. "That's not the question. I do love you. The question is whether or not I can spend my life with you."

***

"Five for fighting!"

The ref's whistle screeched in my ear at the same time Toronto's forward cracked his fist across my cheek followed by a second blow to my nose. Hot blood coursed over my lips, the pain unfelt, easily ignored due to the hot fighting blood in my system.

As players from both sides yanked us apart, I delivered a heavy kick to the bitch's left knee.

His right skate slid his weight forward while his left skidded backward, making him look like a ballerina attempting a split. His sharp grimace of pain, while his mates dragged him away from me, told me, with much satisfaction, that he was now out of the game.

"In the penalty box," yelled the ref, pointing.

"Good job," Devon cried in my ear, his tight grip on my arm hauling me with him.

The screaming of the fans in the bleachers, their feet thundering, made nearly any sound that needed to be heard impossible. I skated, wiping blood from my chin to the penalty box. The instant I sat down, the team's doc applied a compress to my freshly busted nose.

I shut my eyes, tilting my head back, barely hearing over the thunderous noise the announcer informing the crowd that the Toronto forward was not coming back. Outraged screams from the Canadian fans yelled for my blood.

Coach landed beside me. "You finish this, Aldine, you got it? We're up by one. You sink that bitch into their ice."

Unable to nod under the doc's pressure, I managed a tight grin. "You got it, boss."

He slapped my thigh, then departed, barking orders as the game carried on. It had been an intense, bloody game to this point. Toronto knew the only way to win was to hurt me. And badly. I had slid out from under, out-skated, danced out of the reach of thrown punches, and dodged a body slam that took the intended body slammer from the game.

"You're almost done bleeding," the doc commented.

I sat up, against his protests, to watch as the Toronto team scored. Both teams were now tied. Our fans booed while the opposition's fans screamed in delight. The triumphant player raised his stick high, skating in a circle, under their adulation.

Now it's time to blow them out of the water.

I waited, tense, watching the clock until my penalty was up.

The buzzer sounded.

Blood leaked, unheeded, from my nose as I lunged across the ice. With Devon at my side, I intercepted the Maple Leaf who possessed the puck, dashing toward our net. A Canadian guard slammed into Devon, knocking him away from me. Barely aware of the pair banging into one another as both chased after me, I focused on the puck.

Stealing that puck.

Our net closed in.

Eddie readied himself to block the slice.

The Vipers had less than a minute to score.

If we failed, both teams would play on, heading into overtime.

Sudden-death.

I snatched the puck from between the Canadian's skates.

Spinning, I swung wide, dashing past the murderous Maple Leafs, feeling their fear, their hatred, like a caul on my skin. Under the screaming fans, I heard the hissing of skates, the cursing as the sweating Canadians fought to catch me.

Up ahead, the goalie waited, tense, expectant.

Ready to move in any direction, to catch, to block, to stop the puck from getting past him.

Seconds passed.

I feinted low.

The goalie dropped, his legs spread.

Swinging my stick, I slapped the puck high, sending it flashing, a dark comet, over his head and into the net.

The buzzer shrieked.

I skated past the net, slowing, sweat and blood cooling on my face as the Vermont Vipers fans roared their approval and triumph.

"You did it, you old bastard!" Devon slammed into me, hugging, screeching, kissing me just as the rest of my team wrapped their arms around us both. I laughed out loud, happy that Ellie sat in the VIP box, and saw it all.