Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chloe

My eyes flicker open to see the barest hint of sunlight coming through the closed blinds across the room. I immediately look to my right, to the empty side of this king bed that smells of Nikolai and sex. Not even an indentation is left to indicate that Nikolai came back to bed with me at some point. I sit upright, clutching a sheet to my bare breasts, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place. This is Nikolai's room. His bed. I shouldn't be here. Clearly. The man couldn't even bring himself to sleep next to me. I cringe, thinking of him being irritated that I essentially kicked him out of his own bed, even with that last line he gave me about owning certain parts of my anatomy.

I scramble to my feet and tuck the sheet around me like I'm attending the world's lamest toga party for one and gaze down at the perfect imprint of my body on his sheets. A sweat outline.

"Fucking great," I mutter, leaning down to rip the fitted sheet off the bed. I'll have to do Nikolai's sheets before I leave for the ice rink. At least there's one good outcome of him not sleeping with me last night. I didn't night sweat all over him.

I march out of the room, arms full of bed linens and also trying to keep the sheet around me tucked under my arm. I don't hear Nikolai in the house, which isn't surprising. He's probably training with the goalies or off on a run. With my up close and personal perusal of his body last night, I can easily believe the man is most definitely working out any moment he isn't asleep.

Throwing the bedding into the washing machine, I close it and throw in some detergent, reaching up into the cabinet to grab a clean pool towel. Before it's fully wrapped around my body, Nikolai raps his knuckles against the doorway, startling me. I make sure both boobs are covered and turn his direction, a smile pasted on my face.

"Hey. I thought you were working out."

What does one do with their hands the morning after one-sided incredible, life changing sex and they're barely covered in a towel? I settle for one hand on the washing machine and one hand on my hip. Hey, look at me. All casual and shit when what I want to do is run from the room and hide. Nikolai looks better than ever, if a little sleepy with the puffy eyes and unruly hair. The shorts are riding low on his lean hips and his chest is bare. He's unfairly handsome whereas I probably look like a sweat-soaked troll.

"More sheets?" he asks, voice rough and rumbly and so damn delicious I forget for a second that he never came back to bed.

I clear my throat and focus on keeping things friendly between us. That's what I agreed to, right?

"Yeah. It's a known thing with perimenopause. Nothing to worry about. Just an annoyance."

He frowns, crossing his beefy arms over his chest. "What is this perimenopause? You are too young for this, yes?"

"Well, I'm forty-two and this stage of life can last up to ten years, so no, not too young. It's just most women don't talk about it, which is a shame. I could have really used a heads up." I tighten the towel around me. "It started a little before Josh passed away. Given our battle with his cancer, I was concerned that maybe I was sick too. Several blood tests later and the doctors informed me I was merely dealing with hormone issues. No big deal."

Nikolai, still frowning, steps into the laundry room and pulls my hands from the towel to hold in his. "Do not do that."

"Do what?" Don't sleep in your bed? Got it. Won't do that again, believe me.

"Do not downplay something that affects you. This has been a shift in your life, yes?" At my nod, he continues. "Then it is worthy of talking about. And worthy of me listening."

My heart, the organ I locked away behind a thick wall of easy breezy friendship and nothing more, thumps in my chest. I squeeze his hands and tell my eyeballs to cooperate. Crying will not be tolerated.

"Thanks," I say thickly.

He gives my hands a tug and suddenly he's kissing me, his broad shoulders blocking out the garish overhead lights and creating a cocoon of just him and me. He releases my hands and cups my face, deepening the kiss. And then he's gone, letting me go and inching backward.

"I must go. See you later tonight?"

I nod, head spinning, unsure if he wants me here or what we're doing with each other. He leaves and I hide like a scaredy cat in the laundry room until I hear the garage door open, his car fire up, and the garage door close once again. I push out a long breath and rush to my room, hurrying to get ready. It's only when I come out of the shower that I see it.

A brand new ceiling fan. Installed in my room. Along with a remote next to my bed.

My eyes squeeze shut and I curse Nikolai in my head. He is not making this easy. He's doing all the things that would make a woman fall for him. A woman like me.

I pull out my phone and shoot off a text.

Me: Did you install a ceiling fan in my room?

Nikolai: We have already established that these night sweats are a problem. Your comfort matters.

It's a simple statement and yet more profound than anything anyone has said to me in decades. I flop back on my bed and groan up at the ceiling fan. Dammit. Why is he so sweet? Josh didn't do considerate things like that. I'd have to remind him about our anniversary or pick out the clothes he should wear when we went to a fancy restaurant. He was a good man, don't get me wrong, but sweet and attentive was not in his wheelhouse.

"Don't even think about it," I tell my heart out loud. She pounds against my ribs anyway.

Me: Thank you.

I have time to meet up with Dad before my first league practice starts. Or I would if I could find him. I've been bumbling around the practice facility for fifteen minutes looking for him and so far, he's evaded me. Imagining both of us circling this place and never finding each other, I decide to think like a lost kid at a grocery store and stay in one place. I plop my ass down in the chair in his office and wait him out. He shows up ten minutes later, his hair looking like he hit a windtunnel on the way in. He nearly takes out the door with a well-placed kick when he sees me in his office.

"Chloe?"

I stand and put my hand on his arm to steady him. The man is fit, but also getting older. I don't need him falling. "Hey, Dad. Glad you remember me."

He gives me a deadpan look and closes the door before having a seat behind his desk. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Were you at lunch?"

He clears his throat and starts opening and closing drawers. "Nope, just making it in today. Did you wait long?"

I know there's a moment in every child's life when the tables turn and suddenly you're the mature one and they're the ones who need supervision, but I thought I had longer before that moment arrived for me. Dad's acting suspicious as hell. Then again, I guess we both have a little secret we're hiding.

"Ten minutes or so. Just thought I'd swing by and see how the interviews are going for your replacement."

He settles into his chair, looking more like himself now that we're back on a topic he eats, sleeps, and breathes. "Good, good. I'm lucky management includes me in everything still. Wants my opinion of each candidate. I need someone who will keep the culture of the team front and center. If the team is in turmoil, you can kiss that Stanley Cup run goodbye."

"The Storm Chasers seem to get along pretty well, don't they?"

He chuckles. "There've been a few over the years who threatened the vibes, but we've got a solid team now. Though it'll change when Niko retires next year." He leans forward, hands clasped on the desk. "How are things going with him and his daughter, by the way? He keeping his hands to himself?"

My cheeks, the goddamn traitors they are, nearly give me away. "Yes, Dad. Jeez. I'm forty-two, not a teenager you need to protect with a shotgun."

He studies me for a moment and then nods, sitting back. "I know, pumpkin. But in my mind, you'll always need protecting. Besides, after you made me Google The Villages, my mind has been opened to sexual activity long after retirement age."

I wince. "Okay. New topic, please."

He chuckles. "Ready for your first practice? I've been hearing great things about your open houses. I'll check things out in between packing up my office."

I sit up straighter. "Yeah, I'm really excited to get to be back in front of kids. I don't want to teach full time, but hockey lessons will keep me tied into the youth of the nation."

Dad dips his head. "Bet."

We both crack up at the slang and I stand. "Okay, well, this has been enlightening. See you later?"

Dad gets up too and comes around the desk to hug me. "Yeah, actually, I was hoping to take you to dinner soon. Let me know what days you're available?"

I agree and head down to the rink to get my skates on, wondering if that was a casual invite or if he has someone he wants to introduce me to at a restaurant where I can't pitch a fit over a new woman in his life. There's no way I'd have a problem with him dating. I know exactly what it feels like to be alone, and I don't want that for my father now that he'll have more free time on his hands. A little voice in the back of my head screams that I should come clean with him about Nikolai too, but she shuts up as the first kid arrives for practice.

Working my way through the new arrivals, I've talked to eight concerned parents and tied six pairs of skates for kids who aren't sure they got it right when a little voice steals my attention. "Chloe!"

I turn, nearly falling backward in my crouch as Ayana barrels into me. I hug her back, steady myself, and then get to my feet. "You made it!"

"Introduce me, Ayana," interrupts her mom.

I look up and hold out my hand, refusing to acknowledge that the woman looks like she stepped away from a fashion shoot to drop her daughter off. "Chloe Cooper." I don't bother to mention she already knows who I am. I was at the court hearing and we both know it.

She grasps the tips of my fingers in a weak handshake. "Peyton Drugov, Ayana's mother."

The smile I give her is as fake as the one she gives me. Hearing Nikolai's last name attached to hers is enough to turn my stomach. Matt, the assistant coach I hired, blows his whistle, interrupting us and saving me from small talk I just don't have in me right now.

"Everyone line up on the ice once you have your skates on! Coach Chloe is going to show us how to skate with our sticks."

"Got your skates handled?" I ask Ayana, ignoring her mother entirely.

"Her father has already shown her how to lace them," Peyton says, emphasizing her father .

My smile cranks up. "Great! Then I'll leave you to it." I walk away and head for the ice. I have a practice to run, not time for some pissing match with Nikolai's ex-wife.

Given that this is our first practice, I still give each kid a pool noodle, not an actual hockey stick to hold. Still, many of them use it as a sword or put it on top of their heads like a unicorn horn. By the time we have a moving line of hockey players actually holding the noodles like a stick, I glance up to see Nikolai has joined the stands with the other parents. Peyton is trying to talk to him, her arm pasted to his leg as she leans into his personal space.

Not my monkey, not my circus , I repeat to myself, over and over.

Another glance shows Nikolai's gaze trained on me and Ayana. Back and forth, checking on us both while Peyton chats away. When we move into another drill, I hazard another glance in the stands. Peyton has her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl aimed directly at me.