Chapter 29

The room wasdim when Jack awoke, with only a snatch of light sneaking in around the edges of the drawn curtains. His body ached, but at the same time was more settled than he could remember. He"d slept like a rock.

Delia breathed next to him. The sheets were crisp against his skin as he rolled to his side as quietly as possible. She laid sprawled on her stomach next to him, and even though he"d never asked her how she slept, this was exactly how he'd imagined her. Arms and legs splayed, hair mussed. Uninhibited and free.

Jack watched her for a moment as emotions swirled like a wind tunnel, each taking turns gripping his full attention. Love. Warmth. Gratitude. Pleasure. Disbelief. Guilt. He exhaled. Ah, his ever faithful companion. At least it had lessened. The hole inside his chest had started to stitch together—he could physically feel it shrinking even though he could still punch a fist through it.

He was allowed to want happiness. He was allowed to want this. He knew it, and yet the questions still came. Did this mean he didn"t love Angie? Did she hate him for sleeping with someone else? Could he ever love someone the way he"d loved her?

Normally, the fact that he didn"t have answers would have sent his stomach cramping, but this time they sat there, not sinking deep like usual. Jack moved closer and threw an arm over Delia"s bare waist under the sheets, pressing against her like he had in her room the other night.

She drew her limbs in like a disturbed hermit crab. Her skin smelled like herbal hotel soap, not her regular floral, and he missed it.

Delia grabbed onto his arm, wrapping it more tightly around her. "Morning."

Jack kissed the back of her shoulder, and she hummed in her throat. Almost all the sounds she made sounded like singing, even the ones he"d drawn out of her the night before. His heart rate quickened remembering those.

"Someone"s happy this morning," Delia teased, reaching behind her and slapping his hip.

"How could I not be?" He grinned and nuzzled into the hollow between her shoulder and neck.

Delia squeezed him out, laughing and rolling to meet his eyes. She cupped a hand over his cheek, and Jack wished he"d taken the time to pull back the curtains so he could see the colour of her eyes. She dragged her nails through his scruff. "What time is it?"

"I don"t especially care."

Her grin widened. "Don"t you have to meet your parents?"

Jack groaned and reached for his phone on the nightstand. He tapped the screen. "Nine fifteen."

"Hmm. And you have brunch at ten?" Delia trailed her hand over his stomach.

"Ten thirty." He sucked in a breath.

"Interesting."

"Very interesting." He rolled back to face her, pulling her flush against his front. "Am I allowed to kiss you?"

Delia scrunched her nose. "I haven"t?—"

"I know. Just your lips."

She raised an eyebrow, and Jack laughed. "Please?" When she nodded, he lowered his head and kissed her. Slow and gentle. It was already the best morning he"d had in years, and he hadn"t even had bacon yet.

Delia pulled back and ran her hands over him, giving special attention to any places that made him shiver. "Washroom. Then I"ll be back."

"Mmhmm." Jack fell back on the pillows and waited. When she exited the washroom, he took his turn, making sure he counted to twenty while he brushed so Delia wouldn"t accuse him of skipping teeth.

His pulse was already jumping by the time he returned to the room, pulled open the curtains, and slid back under the covers.

Jack moved on top of her and disbelief clawed its way past pleasure and warmth to the top of the pile. "How am I this lucky?" He brushed away her soft waves and kissed her forehead.

"Tony"s just damn good at his job."

Jack chuckled. "He told me that, you know. Right after he asked if I was an asshole."

Delia laughed. "He asked? That"s a big deal. Normally he just assumes."

"He cares about you."

"As much as a publicist can care for their merchandise."

Jack worked his way down her neck to the warm, freckled skin of her chest. "You"re not merchandise." He knew that feeling all too well. Being a number on a printout sheet of paper. Managers and coaches passing him around from one team to another. The coaches always seemed to care until he stepped outside the lines.

He pushed away the flash of worry about the meeting he scheduled with his current coaches in Calgary at the end of the week. It had been too much to schedule something between travel games, but he couldn't wait much longer. According to Brett, Liam had fulfilled his end of the bargain. That was something.

Jack closed his eyes and breathed in the clean scent of Delia's skin. Right then there were no meetings or futures he needed to worry about. He only wanted to be there in that bed. His lips on her neck. His legs laced with hers.

Delia sighed. "But I am a paycheck."

He conceded that point with a kiss. "You can be a paycheck and still have people care about you."

She ran her fingers through his hair as his kisses travelled lower. "Maybe, but?—"

The talking stopped right around when he reached her belly button.

_____

Delia sat across from Jack in the booth, her body humming. She hadn"t meant to steal an invite to brunch, but she wasn"t complaining about the sweet potato, spinach, and sausage hash in front of her. Clara buttered a biscuit, and Leslie was telling Jack something about his high school hockey coach when Mary showed up next to her. She and Alvin had insisted on sitting at their own table even though Leslie had invited them to join their group.

"Change your mind?" Delia asked.

Mary shook her head and crouched. "Have you checked your email?"

Delia frowned and shook her head. She"d barely glanced at her phone since about nine thirty the night before.

Mary held out her screen, and Delia gasped. "It"s live."

Delia held back the curse words bubbling to her lips and turned back to Jack and his parents. "I"m so sorry, just a second. My new song just came out." Jack moved to stand, but Delia waved him off. "It"s okay, stay with your parents. I"ll be right back, I promise."

She jumped out of the booth and went to Mary's table, ignoring the cell phones pointed her direction from across the restaurant. She could just see those headlines. Delia leaves Jack holding the bill. A lover's spat?

Mary held up her speaker between them and pressed play. The song started off exactly as they"d planned, and it felt like she"d downed two Red Bulls. She bounced her knees to keep from jumping up and down. The guitar dropped, then the bass, and then Ethan"s signature keyboard riffs. It was gorgeous, exactly what?—

Delia froze on the bench as it moved into her verse. Those weren"t her updated lyrics. She"d recorded new versions when she went to the studio but these were the original versions they"d put together weeks ago.

"That"s not right?" Mary gave her a look, and she nodded. Delia reached into her purse for her own phone and impulse-dialed Christian. To her surprise, he answered on the second ring.

"Delia! My girl! I"m assuming you got the memo about the drop."

She forced a shallow breath. "Yeah, I did. I was just listening to it with Mary. I think there"s been a mistake though. My vocals are off."

He grunted. "They sound perfect to me."

"No, sorry, the lyrics. We rewrote them, and?—"

"Ah, right. Ethan submitted that, but I asked for the originals we"d initially approved."

Delia"s pulse thudded against her temples. "Did you listen to the new ones?"

"I did, and while they were excellent, we didn"t feel they were on-brand."

She clutched the phone so tightly, she thought the case might crack. She wanted to scream. To quit. To do anything but sit there in the booth and pretend she wasn"t shrivelling up and dying on the inside.

Christian shuffled something on his desk. "Streaming numbers are through the roof. It"s out-performing the first hour of any of your recent singles, so give yourself a huge pat on the back. We"re thrilled with all the work you and Tony have done on this. I know there"s only more to come."

More to come. Meaning more songs she didn"t care about. A breakup she had zero desire to follow through with. More to come. It sounded like a death sentence.

"Listen, Delia, I"ve got to run, but let"s get together once you"re back in Toronto. I"ve got some ideas for your next single."

Delia thanked him—thanked him—and ended the call. What the hell was wrong with her? She had a contract with IndieLake. She"d just gotten off the phone with one of the country"s most celebrated music producers, her first ever positive royalty statement was probably going to land in her inbox within a month, and she was a household name across Canada. She"d even seen her account tagged on radio stations and news outlets in California and Colorado. She had everything she wanted. And here she was about to cry in a booth because of some damn lyrics.

"What did he say?" Mary searched her face.

"Just that they thought the original lyrics were more on-brand." Delia bit the inside of her cheek. She would not make this about her. Mary had tromped around Alberta with her for weeks and she was finally sitting here having a nice breakfast with Alvin. On the other side of the booth, Jack was less than a day out from an NHL playoff loss and he hadn"t complained once. Granted, they"d been doing plenty to keep his mind off it, but still.

She had to figure out how to be a better friend, and that started now.

"Delia, I"m so sorry, I know how?—"

Delia held up a hand, cutting Mary off. "Nope. Totally fine. The song is doing great, so I"m not even going to worry about it." Mary blinked, and Delia didn"t give her time to comment on how this was disturbingly out of character. "How was your night?"

Mary raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing."

"But you won"t because we"re in a public place." Delia kissed her cheek and stood.

"You found your bag, I assume? Since you"re wearing one of the outfits I packed for you?"

She nodded. "Yep, and it"s perfect. You"re amazing, Mary. Thank you." Delia left Mary with a befuddled look on her face and scooted back into the booth next to Leslie and across from Jack.

"You good?" Jack asked, concern etched in his expression.

Delia took a forkful of hash and nodded. "Mmhmm. Good!" It was too chipper, and Jack was immediately skeptical.

"Sounded like you were talking to someone."

She nodded. "Yep, just my producer. But I want to hear the rest of your mom's story."

Leslie looked pleased and dove back in where she"d left off. Jack wasn"t fooled. He reached under the table and put a hand on her knee, swirling his thumb over her skin. She reached down and held it, giving him a squeeze. They sat like that while she finished her food and the waitress brought their check. Marc insisted on paying, which both warmed her heart and made her wildly uncomfortable. Less so since she knew she wasn"t fully lying to them about her intentions with their son.

They exited the restaurant, stopping at a few tables to greet fans on the way out. Jack was more popular with the brunch-goers, but Delia winced every time they mentioned how thrilled they were that Edmonton won while complimenting him on his game play. They were about to duck into the car with Mary and Alvin when Jack stopped her.

"I have to get to the arena for a team meeting. I"m going to catch a ride with my parents."

"You"re not practising are you?"

Jack shook his head. "No, just game strategy. Then I"ll be back at the hotel." He handed her a key. "If you want to meet me?"

Delia smiled up at him. "I guess all my stuff is there already."

"The room is half yours now."

She took the card, and a jolt of electricity shot up her spine.

Jack pulled her to his chest and dropped his mouth to her ear. "Don"t for one second think we"re not talking about what happened in there."

"It was nothing. It—" Her voice caught in her throat as he kissed that tender spot on her neck, then turned her head so he could press his lips against hers.

"Be back soon."

Delia nodded, her knees wobbly as she watched him turn and retreat to the parking lot.

_____

Jack forced himself to focus fully as Assistant Coach Kreviasuk debriefed from the game the night before. They were all aware of their screw ups, and Jack already had opinions on what they could do to fix them. Thankfully, he didn"t have to be a loud mouth. Monahan and Coach Novak covered the essentials, then moved on to their typical spiel on hydration and rest.

That was going to be a tough sell, considering he had Delia waiting for him in his hotel room. If being in bed counted as rest, then he was going to be resting. Hard. If they"d ever wrap the meeting up.

Ten agonizing minutes later they finished, and Jack made the rounds with his teammates who weren"t heading back for treatment with the physical therapist.

"Don"t tire out those legs, eh?" Lindholm winked as he walked past him.

"Team comes first!" Jack barked.

To which Lindholm replied, "Oh, someone comes first, alright." He laughed and disappeared through the door.

Jack looked around and caught Liam rubbing Tiger Balm on his calf. "You need to get that looked at?"

He shook his head. "No. Just sore." He finished and screwed the lid back on the tube. "Talked with Brett."

"Yep, he told me."

Liam lowered his voice. "I"m going to a meeting with him on Friday."

Jack"s eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Fantastic. Good on you, bud. Are you okay at the hotel?"

Liam nodded. "Yeah, I"m going to head back and rest. You want to share an Uber?" Liam shoved the Tiger Balm back into the training bag.

"Yeah. That"d be great."

They were halfway to the door when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw the picture he'd added to Delia's contact on the screen.

"Hey, Harrison. Can we borrow you for a moment?" Coach Novak motioned for him to follow him into the office past the lockers.

Jack nodded and declined the call, then shot her a quick text.

Meeting. Phone you right back

He turned to Liam. "Sorry, you don't have to wait."

"All good. See you back there."

Jack waved, then followed Coach Novak through the office door. Kreviasuk motioned for him to close the door, and Jack's palms started to sweat as he sat in the chair across from the desk.

"Nice that you've taken MacDonald under your wing." Coach Novak exhaled as he sat in the rolling chair and scooted in.

"He's a good kid."

"He's struggling."

Jack nodded. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about on Friday, actually."

Novak's eyes widened. "Oh really? Well, perfect. Coach and I realized you were still out there and thought we'd snag you for a quick chat anyway."

Jack shifted in his seat, wondering whether that was a good idea or not. "Do you want to give me what you've got first?"

Kreviasuk turned the computer monitor his direction. "Sure, let's get at it." He started the reel, and Jack immediately understood what he was after. The fact that they hadn't scored on their second power play. They'd barely pulled it out on their first.

"They're shutting down our single swing, so we want to pull out centre lane tomorrow night." He paused with his finger on top of Vic Hussen. "He wants to bite. It's like he's begging for it, so we're going to send Gaudreau out as bait, then you'll be our first wing option."

"Not Monahan?"

"He'll be there, but he's the obvious choice."

Jack nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"

"More forechecks. We need you there on the boards."

"Right." Jack wondered what Delia would think of that. Why would people pay to watch people hit each other? He stifled a smile, remembering he was supposed to phone her back.

"Let's hear it, then. What do you have for us on the rookie?" Novak leaned back in his chair.

Jack drew a deep breath. He hadn't had time to organize his thoughts, and he scrambled for any advice he'd heard on how to give criticism kindly. Praise first? Sandwich method? "Uh, I've been concerned. He's got a lot of potential, and I don't think we're seeing it."

"Damn straight. He needs to lock in."

Jack clasped his hands together. "I don't know if he does, actually." Novak frowned, and Jack's insides twisted. This was where it happened. Where he pissed everyone off and killed his chances for ice time. "I think there are a lot of players who thrive under pressure, who battle harder under a firm hand, but I don't think Liam's one of them."

"We can't be soft on him if that's what you're asking, Jack?—"

"It's not being soft. It's a different strategy." He looked pointedly at the screen. "Liam's got some things he's working through, and he already feels like shit. He needs to feel wanted. Like you're not going to give up on him, even if he gets his ass handed to him."

Kreviasuk scoffed. "That's our job, Harrison. We have to weed out the bad eggs."

Jack's jaw tensed. "Sometimes an egg can be deceiving." He pushed up from his chair. "I know what it's like to be thrown in the compost. I had plenty more to give, but my coaches had made up their minds. It's up to you. I'm not a coach, and I'm not trying to overstep, but MacDonald was drafted for a reason. Might be worth a little upfront effort to get him there." He nodded and walked to the door, not waiting for a response, and dialed Delia as soon as he exited into the hall.

"Jack?"

His heart stopped in his chest at the panic in her voice. "Delia, what's?—"

"I'm on my way to the airport. I'm so sorry. I had to leave as soon as I heard."