27. Ethan

CHAPTER 27

ETHAN

Always. That’s how long I thought my love with Mikayla would last.

I was convinced we were endgame, but when I got home last night, she wasn’t there, and I couldn’t be in our apartment without her. So, I headed to Dad’s place and have spent the morning listening to him lecture me about the fact that Mikayla is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I better not lose her.

So that was fun.

And it definitely helped me leave.

As much as I didn’t want to walk back into an empty apartment again, I drove home.

I have no fucking idea where Mikayla is. I’ve tried calling her, but it just goes straight to voicemail, and the stream of texts I’ve sent her haven’t even been read.

Fuck. I don’t know if I should be scouring the city for her or if she’s holed up in some shitty motel room because I told her I was done.

Which I fucking didn’t.

I told her I couldn’t keep going like this.

Which she could have interpreted as done.

Shit, shit, fuck-balls!

“You asshole,” I mutter to myself, clomping up the stairs and punching in our key code.

Shoving the door open with my shoulder, I slam it behind me and flinch when I see Mikayla sitting on the couch. Her legs are curled up like she’s been hugging her knees. As I slowly walk down the short corridor, my steps loud on the polished floor, she unfurls herself and stands. She’s so short, so petite, yet her size never made her weak or vulnerable.

She’s normally feisty as hell. But right now, standing there in boxer shorts and one of my shirts, she looks tiny. My button-down engulfs her, swallowing her hands and slipping off one shoulder. She quickly pulls it back up and blinks at me.

Her eyes are wide and red around the edges. Has she been crying?

Fuck.

It takes a lot to make my woman cry, and I’m sure it’s my fault that she’s been curled up on our couch weeping. The image kills me. My chest constricts, guilt squeezing my insides to mush.

She sniffs, wiping her eyes before crossing her arms.

My lil’ mouse.

My precious lil’ mouse. I love her so fucking much.

I want to lift her against me and cradle her to my chest. I want to tell her I’m sorry for being an ass and that?—

Wait. What the fuck?

My eyes narrow in on her arm. My shirt has slipped again, spilling over her shoulder, and that’s when I see the purple bruises on her skin.

“Did someone hurt you?” I snap, growling my way to the couch and pulling the fabric down so I can get a good look at…

Finger marks.

Someone grabbed her. Squeezed her arm. Did he touch her anywhere else? Did he threaten her? Is this asshole the reason she’s been crying?

Rage tears through me in a heat wave that I can’t counter.

“It’s fine,” Mick mumbles, pulling away from me and tugging my shirt back up.

“It’s not fine! Who did this to you? Was it Axel? I’m gonna end that motherfucker.”

She closes her eyes. “No. It wasn’t him.”

“Then who? Where were you? What happened? Tell me exactly what happened!”

Letting out a soft sigh, she dips her head, and it’s only then that I see how truly exhausted she is. She’s pale and spent, gray smudges under her eyes, and I’m standing here like a complete douchebag, yelling at her.

Gripping my mouth, I take a small step back and fight to keep my rage in check. I’m not angry with her; I’m livid with whoever left marks on her skin. But she’s the one getting my fire. She doesn’t deserve this shit, and I?—

I huff, shaking my head and saying as softly as I can, “I’m quitting hockey. I’ll call Coach and my agent tomorrow and let them know. Figure out the best way to get me out of my contract and?—”

“What?” Her head snaps up. “You are not quitting hockey. Are you crazy? You have the potential to be one of the best players in the NHL. You can’t give that up.”

“I gotta do this.”

“Why?” Her voice is high and incredulous.

My shoulders slump as I puff out the words. “To save my marriage. To protect my wife!”

The room goes still as she absorbs what I just said. I don’t know how to fill this painful silence, so I just ride it out while she scratches the side of her nose, then shakes her head and finally huffs.

“You’re not quitting hockey for me.” She scrapes her fingers through her hair. “This isn’t even a discussion, Ethan. No! I won’t let you.”

“Don’t you get it?” I step in front of her before she can march around the couch and stomp up to our room. Bending down, I cup her cheeks and force her to look at me. “You mean more to me than hockey ever will.”

Her eyes start to glisten. “But it’s your passion.”

“ You’re my passion, Mick!” I tap my chest, stepping back as these desperate words fly out of me. “Us. Together. That’s what keeps me going!”

Her expression crumples like she’s fighting tears, her voice wobbling. “You’re not doing this.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No… I won’t let you. It’s your dream.”

“And being an agent is yours,” I argue. “I’ve had my time. It’s your turn. I will drop everything, okay? I’ll go to all your meetings and every event. Even if I just have to stand on the edge of the room and play bodyguard, that’s what I’ll do. Because no one gets to leave marks on my woman.” My voice catches as I point at her arm, and holy fuck, now I’m fighting tears.

Emotions are raging through me in a torrent I can barely control. Seeing Mikayla hurt kills me. Watching her cry kills me. I need to be there for her. I should have been right from the start. I should have?—

“That’s really sweet, but…”

“But what? Why won’t you let me try to fix this? I want to help you. Please don’t push me away. Let me do this for you. For us. I can’t… I can’t lose you, Mick.” Tears line my lashes, and I grimace, blinking away the blurry moisture, desperate to pull myself together.

I don’t cry.

I’m strong.

I need to be strong for her.

She lets out a soft whimper and covers her mouth. I move to embrace her, but she holds up her hand and steps away from me.

It’s crushing, brutal, and I can’t wipe my own tears away fast enough. A few pop free, and I let them trail down my cheeks.

“I haven’t been living my dream life,” she blubbers, tipping her head up to the ceiling. She closes her eyes, and for a second, I freak out that she’s about to ask for a divorce or some shit. Maybe I used to be her dream, but I’m not anymore.

“Mikayla—” I breathe, but she cuts me off before I can say another word.

“I have desperately been trying to make my job everything I wanted, because I didn’t think I could succeed without it. I thought I had to pay my dues, you know? Like I wasn’t worth something better.” She crosses her arms like she’s trying to hold herself together. “But you were right. As much as I hate to say that… you were.” Her laughter is short, watery, and borderline hysterical. “When we first met, I wanted to represent female athletes who weren’t getting enough attention, not work my ass off for arrogant pricks and cocky, handsy athletes.”

“Handsy?” I jerk up straight. “Did that Axel fuck touch you? You said it wasn’t him. Did he try to do something and then grabbed you when you were getting away from him? What happened?” I snap, then suck in a breath and close my eyes. “Mick, I swear to God if he?—”

“It wasn’t him.” Her voice cuts through my panic, then goes small. “It was Ryan. He got pissed with me when I told him exactly what I thought. He grabbed my arm and?—”

I growl in my throat, my hands fisting at my sides.

“And I quit.” She gives me a pointed look.

All the anger in me evaporates. Well, most of it. Surprise sweeps away the bulk of my wrath, leaving only small remnants that can come back to life after I’ve processed this unexpected news.

She sniffs. “Yeah, I quit. I broke my contract, and who knows what kind of shit that’s gonna get me in, but I just couldn’t be there.” She shrugs. “So, I stormed out, and then…” She works her jaw to the side. “I went to my car and sobbed.” Her face crumples, and I move toward her but am stopped when she raises her hand and blubbers, “And then I got a tattoo.”

I stare at her ring finger, my breath on hold as I take in the delicate tattoo inked on her skin. It’s a stylized E set in the middle of an infinity symbol. It’s still raw and looks kind of painful, so I’m extra gentle as I take her fingers and fold them over mine.

She sniffs, her voice still quaking. “Just because I don’t wear your ring doesn’t mean I’m not constantly thinking about you. You’re always with me, Ethan. And when we’re not together, I miss you so much it hurts.” Her voice catches, and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her to my side and kissing the top of her head.

“You quit your job and got a tattoo,” I whisper into her hair, still reeling and now fighting this unexpected laughter bubbling in my chest.

She nods, her voice muffled by my sweater. “Felt really good, actually.” Pulling away, she looks up at me with glassy eyes. “Not sure what I’m gonna do now, but… I think I just need to be with you for a while. Even if that means following you around and becoming some heinous hockey wife.”

“You’ll never be heinous.” I brush my knuckle down her nose. “But you’ll always be my wife.”

“Yeah, I will.” Her eyes light with beauty, my heart stretching like it’s taking its first full breath in months. “Like I’m gonna do life without you.”

My smile grows with relief, and I can tell she’s relieved, too, but there’s still a touch of sadness lurking in her expression. The last twenty-four hours must have been total shit for her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” I rasp. “I should have driven you to Denver.”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “I needed to do this on my own anyway. And it probably wouldn’t have looked great to have a pro hockey player arrested for beating the shit out of a sports agent, you know?” She wrinkles her nose in jest, and I mirror her expression, although my tone is serious.

“It’s not okay what he did to you, and I want to break that piece of shit.”

“But you won’t.” She pats my chest. “Because I need you here with me, not in jail. You’ve got your best season yet coming up.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?” Her eyes start to sparkle with that playful look I first fell in love with.

I grin and press my lips to hers, pulling away only long enough to promise, “We’re gonna find a way that works for both of us, okay? I love you, and I want you to be living your best life. I want to help you make your dreams a reality.”

She goes up on her tiptoes, squeezing the back of my neck. “ You’re my best life, and the rest I’m gonna figure out along the way. For now, I just want to be with you and wash away the shittiness that has been the last twenty-four hours.”

My right eyebrow arches as I smirk. “Well, we better get in the shower, then.”