Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

Niko

"Fuck" I mutter to myself as I cower like a child behind the laundry room door. The last time I hid from a girl's father, I was sixteen with barely a hair on my chin or balls. Kiara was fifteen, and her parents forbade her from dating hockey players, telling her all they wanted was to get in girls' pants. They weren't wrong. Nine out of ten thoughts were focused on that very thing back then.

Not unlike now, except my current preoccupation is centered on one particular woman's pants. And her father is not some unknown entity; he is my coach and mentor.

From my vantage point, I see Chloe lead her father to the couch where she gestures for him to sit. He settles with his back to me, the thinning patch at the crown of his head reflecting the overhead light, while his daughter remains standing in her silky robe. It is one I have not seen before, and it has me wondering if there are more sexy night clothes she has been hiding. I followed Chloe when she went to answer the door, part of me wanting to get another look at her body in that robe and another part knowing few good things result from a midnight caller. But as soon as I heard Coach's voice, I ducked into the closest room like a fucking coward.

And now my heart beats heavy in my chest as I wait to hear what was so urgent it couldn't hold until morning. I worry my worst fear is about to come true, and Coach is here to tell Chloe he knows what I've done and how I've taken advantage of her.

Fuck. How have I allowed my moral compass to spin so out of control?

"What are you doing out so late?" Chloe asks, worrying the sash of her robe with restless fingers. She has the same fear, it is clear. "Has retirement made you a night owl?"

Coach chuckles uncomfortably. "Uh, something like that." He clears his throat. "I need to tell you something."

Now is the time. I need to man up and go to Chloe's side. What kind of weakling am I to leave her to bear this alone? I draw in a deep breath and straighten as I reach for the door handle to swing it wide. There is no time to regret not dressing in more than my boxers.

"I've been seeing someone for a while, and we're in love." The words spill from Coach's lips in a rush, and my hand freezes on the handle as my eyes dart back to Chloe.

Eyes wide and lips in a surprised O, she drops down to the couch as if her legs have given out on her. No sooner does her ass hit the cushion, however, and she is back on her feet with a strangled " Argh! Oh god!" I am alarmed for only a split second before remembering the ruby plug in her ass. If this situation were not so fraught, I would probably laugh.

Coach drops his face into his hands. "I knew it was too soon! I'm so sorry, pumpkin. I just hated all this sneaking around, and Sharon said it was time to come clean and that you'd probably be happy. I told her it's only been a little over a year since you lost Josh, and shoving our relationship in your face would hurt you."

"Dad!" Chloe has to shout to get her father's attention.

"What?" He drops his hands and looks up at her again. Her expression has shifted from surprise to a gentle smile. Of course it has. This is Chloe we are talking about, and someone she loves is in need of her understanding and comfort.

She steps toward him and lowers to the couch beside him so slowly and carefully, glaciers have moved at a faster clip. The effort she puts into keeping her expression steady is written all over her tense posture. Yet, when her butt finally settles, she still lets out a tiny squeak.

"You okay, pumpkin?" Coach asks, concern in his voice. "Are you hurt?"

Her smile is more forced this time. "No! I...uh...took a spill on the ice the other day." She pats her hip with a fake chuckle. "Not as young as I used to be, you know."

"Chloe, I?—"

She cuts her father off, reaching out to take his hand. "Dad, I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am for you and...Sharon, is it?"

"Yes. Sharon. But?—"

"No buts. You deserve to be happy and be in love. I think it's fantastic!" Her other hand joins the first, and she bounces their clasped hands against his knee for emphasis.

"Really?" Relief seeps into Coach's voice.

"Really."

He shakes his head. "It's been so hard for you since Josh passed that I've been feeling like the biggest asshole in the world being so happy when my daughter is suffering so much."

"Dad," Chloe says, shifting closer and letting out another surprised squeak.

"Maybe you should get that hip looked at by a doctor." Coach leans in with an extended hand, causing Chloe to back up again. This time the squeak is more of a yelp.

"Nope! All good!" Her tone borders on panic, and Coach takes the hint, settling back into the cushion with stiff shoulders, clearly still on alert.

Chloe exhales before drawing a deep breath in through her nose and squaring her shoulders and chin. "What I was going to say is that life doesn't work like that, Dad. Things don't happen in perfect sequence like we might plan. Josh wasn't supposed to die at forty-one, you and Mom weren't supposed to fall out of love, I wasn't supposed to restart my life halfway through, the Gophers weren't supposed to beat the Badgers last fall. Shit happens."

"I'm pretty sure Ghandi said something similar," Coach quips.

Chloe grins and leans forward again with the utmost care. "The important thing is that we get back on our feet and keep going. It's why I moved here. It's why I refuse to regret anything anymore. Frankly, I'm surprised it took you so long to find somebody else."

Coach sighs, and I know he's looking at his daughter with both pride and love. It is how I would look at Ayana in such a moment. "It's my greatest hope that one day you'll be ready to move on and find someone else too."

Chloe's smile is teary this time. "I am ready, Dad."

For some reason, the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

"What do you mean?" her father asks.

"I lost Josh long before the day he died. I've had a lot of time to look back on my life with him, on all the memories—some of them good and some of them...not."

"I don't understand. I thought you were happy with Josh."

"I was. A lot of the time. But...we married young, and we grew apart, just like a lot of other couples."

"I didn't know that." Coach shakes his head again, regret plain in his tone.

"I didn't exactly advertise it."

Coach coughs out a mirthless laugh. "Sounds kind of like your mother and me."

"I don't know that I'd go that far." Chloe returns his laugh. "Josh didn't max out our credit cards on a shopping spree on the Home Shopping Network." I can't see Coach's expression, but Chloe's responding laugh—this one pure amusement—clues me in. "Still too soon? It's been thirty years, Dad."

"Let's not talk about your mom. I'd rather get back to you."

Chloe's eyebrows spike, and her lips spread into one of her brilliant smiles. "And I ' d rather hear about Sharon. How did you meet? What is she like? Is she the one you kept sneaking off to call at Roman and Olivia's wedding?"

Coach begins to fill Chloe in on all the details about the woman in his life, but I mostly tune him out. My mind is stuck on only one thing. Something I have known all along and have cavalierly brushed aside for my own convenience and pleasure.

Chloe has suffered greatly in her life, and she deserves a happy ending, starting right now—an ending that includes a man who will make her the center of his universe. One who is like her: open, kind-hearted, decent, easygoing, full of joy and free of messy baggage. One who does not take advantage of her giving nature and distract her from her goals and wishes.

For all I know, Tanner could have been that man, had I exercised even a modicum of self-control and refrained from flirting so shamelessly with her–from fueling our chemistry with stolen kisses and heated looks. She abandoned a perfectly good candidate to indulge in this dalliance to nowhere with me, wasting precious time she should have used more wisely.

I knew it all along, yet I have persisted in my selfishness, not only using Chloe but betraying the trust of a man I revere and respect above all others. Since Ivan died, Coach has filled his shoes in so many ways, and my recent behavior is a slap to both of their faces. My stomach lurches as I imagine what Ivan would think if he could see me now. I recall with disgust the weakness I demonstrated earlier tonight when faced with the prospect of an empty house. How I fooled myself into thinking it was Chloe's happiness driving me to knock on her door with ice cream and sex toys.

"So, what about you?" Coach asks, drawing my attention back to their conversation. "Anyone interesting in your life?"

Chloe's expression turns coy, heat rising to her cheeks, and I feel the blood begin to drain from my own. I might need to sit on the floor. "Perhaps," she responds, her tone purposely evasive.

I mutter another curse under my breath.

Coach pauses a few moments before saying, "You really have moved on, haven't you?"

A smile is her only answer, and it has me battling with myself again. Should I make my presence known and confess everything to Coach so he can deliver the beating I deserve? Should I make it clear that nothing will ever happen again between Chloe and me? Should I tell her to call Tanner and try again?

Yes. I should do all of those things. But I do none of them as I watch Chloe escort her father back to the door and bid him goodnight.

I emerge from the laundry room and lean against the wall, my head dropping back and my eyes falling shut.

"Holy shit, that was close!"

My eyes fly open at Chloe's exclamation to see her with a hand to her ample chest over the red silk of her robe.

When I don't respond, she comes closer, a grin on her lips. "Here's a sentence I never thought I'd hear myself say: Next time the doorbell rings, I should really take out my butt plug before answering." Her eyes sparkle with amusement for several seconds before she realizes I am not mirroring her expression. "What's wrong?"

I straighten from the wall to fully face her. "That never should have happened." My tone is harsher than I intended, but I cannot remember a time when I was angrier with myself.

She rests a hand on my bare bicep, defaulting to her compassionate nature as always. "Nothing happened. He had no idea you were here."

I bring both hands to my head, spearing frustrated fingers through my hair and dislodging her hand from my arm in the process. "I should not have been here! I should not be here now !"

Chloe's chin jerks back. "Why not?"

I draw a cleansing breath through my nostrils in an attempt to calm myself. "You know why."

This time, her eyes drop to her bare feet for a few silent beats before she shakes her head. "I've got to admit, Nikolai, the reason has become a bit fuzzy for me."

"What does this mean? Fuzzy."

Her brow knits as she lifts her head to look at me again. "Fuzzy? You know . . . unclear, cloudy . . ."

I shake my head with impatience. "Yes, I know what it means. I was asking for an explanation of your statement."

"Oh." Her expression relaxes, and I do my best to keep her beauty from distracting me. "What I mean is...it's been weeks ." Her silk-covered shoulders lift in a shrug. "I already feel like we're in a relationship, so it makes perfect sense to me that you'd be at my place. In my bed. Just like it makes perfect sense that we have nothing to be ashamed of—nothing to hide. Especially now that you officially have shared custody of Ayana."

My lips tighten in a straight line as my jaw ticks. What have I done?

"In fact," she continues, "if I had my way, I would have dragged you out of the bedroom and onto the couch with me so you could have witnessed my ‘emotions-are-for-suckers' dad prattling on and on about being head over heels in love with an interior designer named Sharon."

"I heard," I manage through my tight lips, unsure why I am commenting at all.

There goes her chin again, this time accompanied by crossed arms. "And you don't approve?"

"I don't give a fuck about Coach's love life," I bite out.

"Wow." Her expression is pained, and I have the sudden urge to put my head through the wall.

"That is not what I meant." My hands go back to my hair. "Fuck! I meant he can do what he wants. It is not my business."

Chloe tilts her head. "Yeah. Just like our relationship is none of his business."

"We are not in a relationship, Chloe," I proclaim over the shards of broken glass in my throat. "I told you from the beginning I could not do that for so many reasons, and you agreed!"

"Yes, but that was then." Her nostrils flare as a sheen of tears forms over her blue eyes. "Before."

Everything in me warns me not to ask, but I do anyway. "Before what?"

"Before I fell in love with you." Her voice cracks on the last words, but the tears remain trapped in her eyes without falling.

We stare at one another for several long moments. With each passing second that I don't move or respond, Chloe's eyes lose more luster and her lips fall into a downward curve. And like the asshole I am, I wait until her eyelids fall shut before retreating to her room to get dressed and then let myself out her door for the last time.

My only solace is in knowing she will thank me one day for setting her free.