Chapter 7

F our days from the day I landed in this shithole, I’m finally getting wheeled out. The hallway is lined with staff cheering me on, many holding up New England Bay Sharks signs, making me feel like a complete fucking weirdo. All of the attention I’ve gotten has been a lot, and between my teammates stopping in and seeing me and the staff fangirling over me, I’m happy as hell that my mother hasn’t made it to Maine yet. She isn’t feeling one hundred percent, and lucky for me, my wife likes me enough that she apparently doesn’t want me getting sick because she told my mom it was best if she waited a bit longer.

I love my mom. The woman has been through a lot in her life. I mean, fuck, she was married to my dad, who was the most abusive son of a bitch you can imagine. But she tries to bring him up in conversation like he wasn’t a monster. And she also talks like she was Mother of the Year when that just wasn’t how it was. She did the best she could, but she never protected us or herself from my old man.

“You all right?” Paige whispers behind me, pushing the wheelchair I’m in.

“Just ready to get the fuck out of here,” I grumble. “I hate this shit.”

She surprises me when her hand pats my shoulder softly, and I feel that one fucking touch everywhere. For a second, it feels like we’re our normal selves again. Almost.

“I know,” she says gently, and when she lifts her hand from my shoulder, I instantly miss her touch. “I know you do.”

When we get to the end of the hallway, I’m just starting to think I’m finally in the clear of this sorry you’re hurt, but we love you cheering shit, but when the doors slide open, I see the front of the hospital is lined with Bay Sharks and fans too.

“Sorry,” Paige says in my ear. “I swear, I didn’t tell anyone when you were going to be discharged. I knew you wouldn’t want all the fuss.” She gives my shoulder a slight squeeze. “Think of it this way: you’re loved.”

“Fuck love,” I utter.

I know I’m being a dick. But I don’t want my teammates to see me as anything less than they usually do. Someone they know not to fuck with. Someone who’s always had their back. A dude who’s good under pressure when his back is against the wall.

Not someone with a weak heart, being pushed out by his estranged wife because she feels fucking sorry for him. I’m not stupid. I know that’s the only reason why she’s here.

If it wasn’t for Amelia running up to me first, I probably would have leaped out of the wheelchair and stormed to the car. But when I see her, I push myself up from the chair and kneel down in front of her.

Her tiny arms wrap around my neck. “Uncle Kolty, you scared me.” She sniffles, squeezing my neck tighter. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I hold on to her for a minute, patting her back. “Oh, yeah, I’m going to be just fine.”

Releasing me, she looks at me, her large blue eyes swollen with tears. “Promise?”

My heart feels like it’s being squeezed by the world’s strongest hand, but I nod, swiping a tear from her cheek. “I promise.”

She peeks behind me at Paige, suddenly looking bashful. “Hi,” Amelia says sweetly, looking down at her feet shyly for a split second before glancing back at Paige. “Are you Uncle Kolty’s nurse?”

I can’t see Paige’s face, but I bet there’s a stunned look on her face as she tries to decide her next move. It’s been a long time since she’s seen Amelia. And given how young Amelia was when she left, she doesn’t remember Paige.

She clears her throat awkwardly. “I’m … actually a friend of his.”

“I thought I knew all your friends,” Amelia says to me. “But she’s pretty.”

I chuckle at her honesty before changing the subject and nodding toward the small stuffed animal I gave her. “You left the huge one at home?”

Her eyes widen. “Daddy wouldn’t bring it. He said it’s too big.”

“Course he did,” I say, rolling my eyes dramatically. “No fun, is he?”

“Yeah, right. It is too big,” Logan mutters from behind her before he grins at me. “How you doing, you studly man you?”

Slowly, I stand, trying to hide my lightheadedness from just the action of standing up.

He pulls me against him for a second before he nods toward Paige. “Hey, Paige. Good to see you. How are you?”

“I’m good,” she says quickly. “Amelia has grown so much!”

“She has,” Logan agrees, sounding bummed. “Gonna sound like a total dad, but it doesn’t take long.”

“I bet,” Paige utters sweetly before touching my arm. “Hey, I’ll go get the car and bring it closer.”

I’m not surprised she’s trying to get out of here suddenly when I notice the rest of my team all waiting to greet me. I’m sure she doesn’t know what the heck to do right now because shit between us is complicated.

When she passes by me, heading toward the parking lot, she lifts her hand up to my team, but darts past before anyone can pull her aside. I get a perfect look at her plump ass through her leggings, and, fuck, some things don’t change. Of course, Logan is quick to distract me.

“Stop checking out your wife’s ass,” he murmurs. “And you didn’t answer me. How the hell are you?”

“Be better when I get out of here so people stop staring at me like I’m one of those performers who’s fallen on their ass, and no one knows what to say, so instead, they give them that look.”

“That’s very specific.” He chuckles. “You’ll be all right. It’s good for your grumpy ass to be reminded that people actually like ya, even if you’re like the Grinch.”

“He is not the Grinch!” Amelia whines, stamping her tiny foot. “He’s Uncle Kolty.”

“Babe, remember the movie? Even Cindy Lou Who liked the Grinch’s grumpy ass—butt.”

“Nice catch,” Maci says, giggling behind them.

My eyes finally lift, looking around at my entire team and some fans lined up on the sidewalk, and they all give me a nod. I start to walk toward them to get it the hell over with when Logan stops me by patting the wheelchair.

“You’ve been on your feet long enough, sit your ass back down. I’ll be your chauffeur today,” he singsongs. “Well, at least for the next thirty seconds. Seeing as that’s all I foresee you tolerating of this parking-lot party.”

“You’re not kidding,” I grumble, reluctantly plopping my ass back down in the seat. “Whose idea was this?”

“It was Daddy’s idea,” Amelia blurts out, walking beside me. “He called everybody !”

I make sure Amelia isn’t looking, and then I crane my neck to look at Logan and hold up my middle finger.

Fuck you , I mouth.

He attempts to shrug innocently. “Just because we love ya, Kolburne,” he tosses back. “Just because we love ya.”

Once Kolt has said his goodbyes to everyone, I open the car door so that he can climb in, which earns me an eye roll.

“I can open my own door, you know,” he grumbles like a toddler.

“Maybe, but I’m still going to open it for you anyway,” I toss back.

He stares at me for a moment, narrowing his eyes, but eventually, he steps past me and plops himself down in the passenger seat. “I think I’d be safer having a heart attack while driving than be over here, in the passenger seat, with you behind the wheel,” he mutters. “I saw your rims. Nice to know you still hit curbs.”

My mouth hangs open in annoyance, but the smell of his signature deodorant hits my nostrils, and instantly, my heart flutters. Sadness washes over me for a split second, but I feel a sense of comfort at the same time.

He’s used the same deodorant since he was in high school, and I always teased him that, eventually, the brand was going to go out of business and he’d have to find a new one. He joked that he would have to stockpile it because it was the best kind.

In the past year and a half, anytime I smelled a similar scent, my heart would skip a beat. It was his scent. A scent I’d found great comfort in for so long.

Even now, I have an old shirt of his. The smell is gone for the most part, but I refuse to ever stop sleeping with it. It’s the closest thing to him I have.

Not that I’d ever admit that to him.

Closing his door, I ignore his comment, hating that he’s right. I never claimed to be the world’s best driver. Sometimes, I take a turn too hard, and my rims hit the curb. I’ve popped tires from hitting potholes too fast. It is what it is, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

I know he hated everyone coming here today, but I’m glad they did. He deserves to know how many people in his life love him. And watching him with Logan’s daughter was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. It’s clear Kolt loves that little girl. Just thinking about them together sends a shot of pain through my chest. Kolt would make the best dad.

Pulling my door open, I climb behind the wheel, and now … my entire car smells like Kolt. My belly has butterflies, and there’s a faint throb between my legs.

Dammit, body. Don’t betray me now.

“What’s the address?” I say before pulling my seat belt over my chest and bringing the GPS app up on my car’s screen.

“Unless you’ve got amnesia, you shouldn’t need that fancy GPS to find it,” he murmurs. “Seeing as it’s the same as it was a year and a half ago.” He drawls the words out sluggishly.

I quickly turn my head, my eyes flying to his. “You kept our house?”

When he bought the house, I was still in college, finishing my degree, and it didn’t make sense for me to go in on it with him. With my name on the mortgage, our interest rate would have gone through the roof. So, all this time, since I didn’t have any ownership of the house or my name on the mortgage, I had no way of knowing if he’d sold it or not.

“Yep,” he utters.

Suddenly, it pisses me off that he’s living in a home that was supposed to be ours, probably hooking up with women in my bed. The thought of that alone makes me want to scream at him. Only I can’t because the man had a fucking heart attack, and I’m pretty sure when his doctor told me I needed to help care for him, he didn’t mean I should yell at him for screwing women in my home.

“Awesome,” is all I can muster up, and even that comes out as a grumble while I quickly shift the car into drive and pull out of the parking spot.

I promised the doctor I’d take him home and be his support system. I’m a physical therapist, for fuck’s sake. Of course he’ll be in good hands with me. But how awkward is it going to be? Me staying in a home with my ex-ish-husband. Caring for him like the past year and a half hasn’t involved me missing him every single minute of each day. Part of me hates him so much for letting me go and never coming after me. And now what? I’m supposed to help him get better and then leave? And the hardest part is, I’ll have to be okay after.

I think if there is one good thing that will come out of this, it’s that maybe he’ll finally sign the divorce papers so I can close this chapter of my life. I don’t know what has taken him so long since he clearly doesn’t care about our marriage, but now that we’ll be stuck together for a few weeks … he’ll have nowhere to hide from signing the dotted line.

“Don’t talk so much, would you?” he says sarcastically, glancing over at me. “All the chatter is making my head hurt.”

“I’m not sure what I possibly have to say,” I huff out, putting my blinker on before turning out of downtown Portland. “I want to help you get back on your feet, but you know this doesn’t change anything.” I swallow. “Not like you’d want it to—that’s not what I meant. But what I’m saying is, let’s just make this … arrangement as peaceful as we can.”

“I already stood on my feet to get to your car,” he deadpans before looking around. “Which, by the way … nice ride. I see you traded the Cadillac.”

“Why would I need a giant SUV to ride around by myself?” I snap, instantly regretting it because the man just had a heart attack four days ago. “This small SUV seemed much smarter. Besides, I might make good money, but I’m not on a professional athlete’s salary, you know.”

“You still living with your parents in Vermont?”

“That’s not really any of your business,” I whisper, trying to keep the anger from my tone, though it’s really freaking hard.

I know he’s been through a lot, and he doesn’t need the stress of me being a bitch, but, God, seeing him again has pissed me off. He triggers me simply by existing in my presence. He derails any kind of peace I’ve found from working on myself and being on my own without him. Finding that peace didn’t happen overnight. It took months upon months to find. And even now, I’m a mess a lot of the time.

But every ounce of pent-up anger buried inside of me since the day I left begins to bubble. For so long, I’ve kept it all in. I think that’s probably because for months after … I was barely alive. And once I crawled far enough out of that cave to at least breathe again, I was scared that if I allowed myself to acknowledge my love for Kolt, it would kill me.

He doesn’t need to know that I actually live in Maine, too, and have for the past eight months. The truth is, I loved the state, and when I went back home to live with my parents, I realized how much I’d missed the coast. So, I started saving, and when the perfect house for me came up, I jumped on it.

It’s only about an hour from where our house was in Portland. But that hour is enough distance that I never have to worry about seeing him.

The only thing I have to worry about is seeing his name on the backs of jerseys and T-shirts anytime I go to the grocery store.

Now, that’s annoying.

Everyone loves the New England Bay Sharks’ defenseman Kolt Kolburne. He’s known for his signature grumpy attitude. He’s fierce on the ice and a bit of a wild card. But his team can always depend on him to be the ultimate protector. That’s how the rest of New England sees him.

But I know every other side of him.

The good and the bad.

“Fine, I’ll just talk to myself,” he mutters, and I snap my gaze to his for a split second.

“Sorry. What were you saying?” I pull myself from my thoughts.

“I said, you seem different.” From the corner of my eye, I can see him studying me. “Harder.”

“Divorce will do that to you,” I say, giving him a side-eye.

I hear a low, sexy chuckle.

“That might be true and all, but, uh … you’re not divorced yet, Buttercup,” he drawls, his voice dripping with smugness. “Did you forget that?”

I can’t stop my eyes from rolling. “How could I forget, Kolt? And I would be if you had signed the stupid papers,” I hiss. “It’s pretty simple really.”

Thank God we pull in front of the large gate before we can continue arguing anymore. The man just had a heart attack days ago, and I know I can’t be a complete bitch to him, even if I want to be so badly.

Me staying here is the least feasible plan I’ve ever heard of. How in the hell am I going to take care of him if I can barely stand being in this car right now?

Stopping before the gate, I roll my window down.

“What’s the code?” I sigh.

For a moment, he looks ashamed—or maybe embarrassed.

“It’s the same one it’s always been,” he mutters. “Same as when you lived here.”

I stare at him in complete awe. The code to the gate used to be the same as the code to our alarm. My birthday. Not our anniversary. Not his birthday. Mine.

I want to ask him why he kept it. I want to know why on earth he’d want the birthday of the woman who left him to be his damn code. But maybe I don’t want to know the answer, so instead, I say nothing. I just punch in my birthday on the keypad, and within seconds, the gate gradually opens.

I’m not prepared for the rush of emotions that hit me as I drive down our driveway. The same drive I took so many times to a house I thought I’d never leave. I was always so excited to see him when I came home and he was already here. Or the times we drove down the driveway together, unable to keep our hands off each other the entire way. As soon as he put the truck in drive, I’d jump out and run for the bedroom or maybe the shower. I loved the chase. And he loved to chase me. I think we both loved when he caught me even more. Sometimes, it was in the kitchen. A few times, on the stairs. And once … I didn’t even make it to the front door.

He took me against our yellow door, hard and fast. When we finished, he carried me into the shower.

I drive past a few trees we planted that seem to have grown so much since I’ve been gone. Everything looks the same, and yet … it feels so different.

A lump swells in my throat as I pull in front of the house and take it in. Life is weird. One day, you’re planning forever. The next, you’re staring at your reality, asking how you let yourself get here.

I’ve asked myself that so many damn times.

How did I become a stranger to my husband? And how did a house we’d picked out together and shared countless memories in turn into my personal hell?

I shift my car into park and kill the engine. For a moment, we both just … sit.

“So … this is fucking weird,” Kolt says. His deep voice vibrates through my soul, causing a stab in my heart. But his tone isn’t filled with irritation or frustration. Instead, he sounds sad.

“Yeah,” I whisper, agreeing with him because it really is one of the weirdest and saddest moments of my entire life.

A place that used to be my favorite now brings me anxiety. And the person I used to always find comfort in times like this is now an outsider.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, he sighs. “Look, Paige, this house is still just as much yours as it is mine. But if you can’t do this—if you can’t be here, at our house—it’s okay. I’ll be fine. I can call one of the guys to come over until my mom can make it out.”

This man … he really has no one else.

Despite him buying her a house in New England, his relationship with his mother has always been strained. And I guess that’s because she tries to pretend the past didn’t happen. But it did. And she isn’t the only one who had to pay for it. Her boys did, too, and they continue to daily, I’m sure.

You don’t get over a childhood like the one they had. Where you had to protect your mother from beatings, and some days, you’d end up being the one taking the abuse. Not to mention, I don’t think Kolt has ever gotten over the guilt he felt for leaving his mom behind to live with my family in high school. But had he not done that, he would have never made it to the pros and been able to provide her with the life she has now.

“It’s not our house anymore, Kolt.” My voice is pathetic, and I have to look away from him as tears threaten to well in my eyes. “It’s your house.”

I blink rapidly in shock when his fingers grip my chin lightly and he forces me to look at him.

“It will never be just my house, Paige.”

His eyes hold mine, and I feel a painful sensation spread across my chest.

When his gaze floats to my lips, I look away, pulling away from his hold, breaking the moment. I unbuckle my seat belt and open the door, leaving him in the car alone.

I hang out by the front of the car, and within a few seconds, he’s out of the car and walking toward the front door, not at all looking like a dude who had a heart attack. I know Kolt though, and he’d push through pain before ever admitting he was struggling physically.

The unease in my body is crippling. I don’t know if I should follow him or give him some time to decompress alone. I used to know what would make him feel better. Now, I know nothing and am terrified of doing the wrong thing. So much time has passed, and I don’t know him or what he needs anymore.

Opening the door, he glances over his shoulder. “You coming in or what?”

I bite down on my bottom lip as my head droops slightly with fear. Because being back in this house is going to hurt and I’m not sure I’m ready to face that kind of pain. But I don’t have a choice. I have to be here for Kolt, even if I don’t think he deserves it. It’s more for me than him.

On shaky legs, I follow him as he walks inside. When he closes the door behind us, the sight of our home and the scents of it hit my senses, and my knees threaten to buckle beneath me. Because everything is exactly how I left it and that is not what I expected. At all.

Taking a few steps, I notice right away that the outlets I used to fill with Yankee Candle plug-ins have fresh ones inserted. And I know by the smell … it’s the same scent I always bought.

“You … bought new plug-ins?” The words come out in barely a whisper, and I’m not even sure he can hear me, but it’s all I can muster up.

Walking toward the kitchen, he doesn’t look back at me. “Yeah. I liked the smell, so figured I’d get more.”

Of course, it’s not because he missed you, dumbass.

That’s what I want to believe. Like me being gone made an impact and something as small as a scent made him feel better. Yeah, right. I’m sure he’s been just fine. He probably doesn’t lie awake at night and wonder where I am or who I’m with, the way that I do with him. And I bet he never dreams of holding me or being with me, only to wake up alone and feel the same hurt of losing me all over again.

Yeah, I bet he hasn’t had to deal with any of that.

Just as I walk into the kitchen, he walks out of it and into the hallway. I don’t follow him because I’m sure he needs a minute too. This is all … a lot.

“There you are, you lazy sack of shit,” he says.

For a second, I’m extremely worried someone else is living here. But the fact that they are a lazy sack of shit makes me feel a little better.

“Yeah, I’m back now, you homely kitty. Did Logan feed you, or did he make you starve?”

When I hear his voice, I walk into the hallway to see who he’s talking to, and when my sights take in a long-haired gray cat, I frown.

“You, um … got a cat?” I point at it, unable to hide the shocked expression on my face. “When did you, uh … get a cat?”

He glances up at me, continuing to pet the cat’s thick fur. “A year ago. She showed up outside my house. I was hoping a coyote would get her, but no such luck.”

When I widen my eyes, he rolls his. “I’m joking. Though I did hope she’d stop trying to come inside every time I opened my door.” He scratches her head tenderly. “But eventually, I felt bad for this fleabag and let her move in.”

“You have a cat,” I whisper, thinking out loud more than anything else. “You hate cats. At least … you used to.”

“I still hate cats,” he says matter-of-factly. “Don’t let my kindness fool you. She practically left me no choice.”

I nod mindlessly, still reeling that he has a four-legged friend living here with him. “I … also have a cat.”

“Let me guess … a fluffy white cat, like the ones on those fancy cat food commercials.” He gives me an amused look. “Like you always begged your daddy for.” He barks out a laugh. “Only person who hates cats more than me is that guy.”

Kneeling down, I make a squeaking noise with my lips, but the cat doesn’t come over to me. “That might have been the plan, but I ended up leaving the shelter with a three-legged cat who was balding in some spots from a flea infestation.” I snort, bringing my eyes to Kolt as his cat continues to rub up against him, ignoring me. “Seemed as though Rocket needed me more.”

He tilts his chin up, his eyes narrowing. “Rocket, like Guardians of the Galaxy?”

“Maybe. You know he’s always been my favorite.” I shrug before I jerk my chin toward the cat. “What’s her name?”

“Ted,” he utters, running a hand over the top of her head.

“Ted?” My mouth hangs open. “You said she?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize that until I took her to the vet. By then, I’d already ordered her a food dish with her name on it.” He glances down at Ted. “So, she’s a girl named Ted. She likes it.” Like always, he says the words so dryly, and that’s what makes it so funny.

Kolt could have me in stitches when we were together. He is one of the driest, funniest human beings on the planet.

“If you say so,” I say, letting my eyes wander around the house as I stand up. “I will need to run home at some point to get some clothes and to—”

“Pick up Rocket and bring him here?” he says, cutting me off and guessing my next words.

“What?” I frown, shaking my head. “No. I have a friend who is going to take care of him while I’m gone. I was going to say, I’m going to place a curbside grocery order. I’ll run out and get it tomorrow.”

“They’ve probably missed you, you know,” he says in a teasing tone. “You were, what, their number one customer for curbside pickup?”

I roll my eyes because Kolt has never let me live that down. I’ve never been one to win anything, but, dammit, somehow, when I lived here, I had the most to-go grocery orders at the entire store. And when I got my one hundredth order, the associate brought it outside, and they were also carrying a cake and a balloon. Kolt just happened to be in the passenger seat, and I knew then that he’d tease me about it forever. Playfully, of course.

“I’m sure I’m not now,” I utter. “The number one spot probably went to that lady in her minivan who always seemed to be there when I was.”

“I bet she’s getting your cake and balloons now. You are old news,” he says, grinning just before his expression grows slightly pained, and he leans against the wall, running a hand over the top of his head. “All the clothes you left are in the same spot. Should be plenty to get you by.”

When I left, I only took one large suitcase because I wanted to get out of this house without giving him the chance to talk me into staying, like all the times before. I always assumed my clothes had gotten burned in a pile.

Or given to women he’d let stay the night to wear home the next day.

I do my best to hide my surprise and bob my head. Literally every single thing I left behind is the same—besides him.

Kolt is harder now. The sparkle in his eyes is … gone.

“Okay, great.” I wring my fingers and shift on my feet timidly. “Is the guest bedroom all set?”

“That depends. Do you want the guest bedroom? Or would you rather stay in our bedroom?”

Our bedroom. Two words. Both simple. Not heavy. And yet they send my heart straight into my throat.

“Um, I don’t—” I stutter, growing annoyed that even after all this time, he has this effect on me. And I’m even more pissed that he assumes I’d land in his bed because he said so. “I don’t think that’s what we need to be doing, Kolt,” I snap. “We don’t need to be sharing a bed.”

When my eyes lift to his face, I take in his growing smirk. The asshole is clearly amused as he grins at me, his eyes glimmering with pure delight.

“Simmer down, princess. I meant, I’d sleep in the guest room, and you’d sleep in our bed.” He cocks his head to the side. “Though I gotta say, your mind seems to be in the gutter. So, if you feel like snuggling tonight, I won’t bite.” His eyes darken. “Not too hard anyway.”

“Kolt,” I hiss, “that is so inappropriate! And if this is going to work—me taking care of you—you need to not say shit like that. Otherwise, I’ll let your mom fly out and bring influenza with her.”

He frowns, and a wrinkle forms in his forehead. “No. Don’t do that.” He pats a hand to his chest. “Wouldn’t be good for my ticker, you know.”

“Wasn’t sure you even still had one until I got the phone call,” I sass before exhaling. “Sorry. Sorry. Now is not the time for me to say how I feel. Anyway, I’m going to go get settled. In the guest bedroom. And then I’ll figure out what we’re doing for dinner because you have some meds you need to take with food.”

As I start toward the guest bedroom—a room that we had made up for when friends or family would visit us—he catches my hand in his, sending a shock wave through my entire body.

“I meant what I said. If you’ll be more comfortable in our room—”

“Stop,” I whisper angrily, pulling my hand back. “No, Kolt. I don’t want to sleep in a bed that I once shared with my husband.” Tears threaten to cloud my eyes, but I keep it together. “Leave me be, okay? I want to do this. I want to be here to help you get better. But you’re not making it easy. In fact, you’re making it harder.”

“Making what harder?” he rasps.

“Me being here.” I wave a hand around the house. “Being back in the place that always made me happiest.” I step around him and beeline it for the guest room.

Because I can’t stop the tears from flowing now, and if he sees me cry, he’ll likely try to hold me and make it better. And it’s not about me or even us right now; it’s just about him getting better.

Besides, I can’t let him near me. One touch—that’s all it would take for my entire world to come crashing down. I can’t do that. I need to make sure he gets better … and then I’m gone.

And this time, I’ll be leaving with signed divorce papers in my hand.