Chapter 17

MAC

My lawyer, Tony Williams, pushed a stack of documents toward me. "These all look good to me, but you read them over first."

Tony had been my lawyer since I'd first signed with the Blades. He and Andrea had always made sure I got the best deals and contracts. He was known in the industry as a bulldog, and his tenacity tended to piss people off. Despite his brutish demeanor, Tony was a total softie. He had photos of his wife and kids all over his office. He always showed them off to me, clearly proud of his family.

I scanned through the documents, but it was a struggle to pay attention to the legalese. "Why am I looking at this, again? Isn't that what I'm paying you for?" I joked.

Tony snorted. "Never sign on the dotted line unless you know what you're signing. Don't be a dumbass, Mackenzie."

"Aren't you always the one saying athletes never know their heads from their asses?"

"Oh, they don't. And don't think you're the exception to the rule. I've seen all those stories about you online." Tony's gaze narrowed. "Who's the married woman?"

I groaned. "You're worse than Andrea."

"My wife wanted to know. She's like a shark out for blood when it comes to gossip, that woman." Despite his words, Tony's tone was full of admiration.

If Tony was scary, his wife, Miranda, was downright terrifying. I'd met her once. She was a tiny brunette who had the scariest resting bitch face I'd ever seen. Her gaze literally cut a man to bits.

"That whole thing is over," I replied.

"Hmm. So what about that other woman? Did she sign the contract?"

Even though Elodie had signed the contract, I'd never sent it to Tony to make it official. Why? I didn't fucking know. Maybe it was because Elodie was different. She wasn't like all the other women I'd had arrangements with.

"She signed it," I said.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And you, what, forgot to send it to me? Your lawyer? See, this is what I mean about athletes not knowing their heads from their asses. You see one beautiful woman, and you lose your damn mind."

I gritted my teeth. "It's not like that."

"Then get me the contract."

"I will."

Tony leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful now. "I think I should do a background check on her."

"What? No. That's not necessary."

"Let me do the thinking here. That's what you pay me for, right?" Tony grabbed a pen and a Post-it. "Name."

"You don't need to do a background," I repeated, frustrated at Tony's insistence.

"Dude, stop thinking with your dick and think with your head. If she has nothing to hide, then it'll come up with nothing. But you'll be pissed at yourself if she does have something and you were too caught up to do the bare minimum."

I knew Tony was right, even as it pissed me off. I got up out of my chair, feeling like Tony's gaze was pinning me to the floor like an insect.

"Name, Mackenzie."

"Christ, you're fucking relentless."

Tony chuckled. "Like I said, that's what you pay me for."

After a few more moments of indecision, I gave Tony Elodie's name. He looked triumphant, and it took all my self-control not to punch his smug face.

Why did I hire this guy again? I thought darkly.

"Good, I'll run that through today. I'll have the background check by Monday." Tony watched me pace, his expression amused. "What's going on? I've never seen you like this about a woman."

"Like what, exactly?"

"Cagey. Protective. Like you'd tear somebody apart for looking at her funny. You know, you remind me of myself sometimes."

That remark made me laugh. "You?"

"Yeah, me. You know, the second I met Miranda, I lost my ever-fucking mind. I had to have her, but she didn't make it easy. She told me to go to hell on more than one occasion. The first time I asked her out, she laughed at me. Laughed! Told me to come back when I'd finished law school. So I finished law school, passed the bar with flying colors, and then she told me to come back when I'd started my own firm.

"So I did, and she had no more excuses. We got married a few months later."

"Jesus."

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, we were fucking crazy. But I have zero regrets. The second she agreed to marry me, I had to lock that shit down. And she's told me since that she wished she'd said yes when I'd first asked her out."

I folded my arms across my chest. "What the hell does this all have to do with me?"

"Mackenzie, I'm telling ya, if this woman is special, don't let her go. You'll regret it for the rest of your fucking life. And do whatever she wants. That's what women do. Drive you crazy. But it's worth it."

I was about to counter that Elodie wasn't like Miranda in the slightest, but I also understood what Tony was getting at.

Intuitively, I knew that Elodie was different. She was special. She'd already burrowed herself into me, and I didn't know if I could get her out. Or if I even wanted her out. I started to feel guilty about giving Tony her name to look into. Was that really necessary?

The thought of never seeing Elodie again was like a punch to the gut.

Tony cleared his throat. "I'll get that background check in, then. And take that contract with you and actually read it."

I knew when I was dismissed. I gave Tony an ironic salute and headed out.

That weekend, we had a game up in Vancouver, Canada, which we lost—badly. It didn't help that my mind had been on everything but hockey. My mom had called last night and said that Caroline was deteriorating, and I hated to be away from Elodie. When I'd missed a goal, Coach had looked like he'd wanted to choke me out.

"Get your head in the game!" he'd yelled at me, his face red as a cherry.

The only upside—which was really not an upside at all—was that I hadn't been the only one distracted. Brady had missed a pass, while our goalie had also let an easy shot from the other team get through. I wasn't sure what was going on with either of them, but I'd been wrestling with my conscience all week long about whether I should visit Caroline. The debate ate away at me.

Our relationship had always been complicated. No one could understand it except the two of us. But I still cared about her despite everything. The thought of her dying without me seeing her at least once more made my gut twist. And that twist turned into a knot when I thought about how Elodie might feel if she knew I went to visit Caroline.

One of my teammates was from Idaho, and when I found out he was flying to Coeur d'Alene to visit his wife, I didn't hesitate to hitch a ride on his private plane. Then I drove to the hospital twenty minutes from the tiny airport. The entire ride felt like my heart was in my mouth—I had no idea what to expect, just how bad she was. Nor did I have a clue what I would say to her. Would she even recognize me? God, this sucked. But in my heart, I knew I was doing the right thing. I'd regret it for the rest of my life if she died and I never went to see her.

Walking into the hospital, I almost hoped they'd tell me visiting hours were over—make the decision for me. But when I asked for directions to Caroline's room, nobody stopped me.I stood outside her door for a long moment. A nurse slid past me, giving me a strange look, and I waited for her to leave again before entering.

Caroline's eyes were closed. She had multiple IVs, along with an oxygen cannula in her nose. She looked horribly thin—her cheeks were sunken in and her once beautiful blond hair thin and wispy. For the first time, she looked her age or maybe even older. It almost made it easy to pretend it wasn't her; maybe that would make this whole thing less painful.

Seeing the woman who'd basically controlled my life once upon a time was strange. Right now, she didn't look like she even had the strength to turn on the hospital TV, let alone tie me up, whip me, and make me beg for her mercy.

Her eyelashes fluttered open. "Who . . .?"

I sat down and took her hand. "It's Mac, Caro."

Realization dawned slowly on her face. She tried to sit up but didn't have the strength. It was devastating to see how weak she was.

"Mac," she kept saying. She touched my face, tears in her eyes now. "Is it really you? Or am I hallucinating again?"She let out a croaky laugh. "You know, these painkillers they give you—they mess you up. I keep seeing people in the corner of my eye, but nobody's there. But you seem real enough."

"It's me. No hallucination. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

"You should be careful. Dave has been staying the night with me. You don't want to run into him."

"I'll be careful." Even though I offered her assurance, I wasn't afraid of him. It didn't matter to me if he caught me here, but I didn't want to do anything to upset her in this condition, so for that reason, I hoped he didn't see me.

She let out a breath, then winced. "It hurts to breathe. They say the cancer has spread all over. Even with painkillers, there's still pain. How is that? I don't understand it. Aren't painkillers supposed to take away the pain? I guess I'm the lucky exception, or maybe I'm being punished for all the pain I've dished out."

She was rambling, and it hurt to see. Caroline had always been such a force of a woman. She'd done everything with confidence, including taking me under her wing and showing me the BDSM lifestyle at a time when I was desperate to understand myself. She never rambled or talked about hallucinations. She was never dying .

I realized now that cancer had left Caroline a shell of her former self. Selfishly, I almost wished I hadn't come. At least then my last memory of her wouldn't be this woman in a hospital bed who was at death's door. But this was life. And as tempting as it would've been to pretend this wasn't happening, I was glad I came.

"Mac, sweetheart," Caroline was saying. She touched my cheek. "I don't have much time left. I wanted to tell you—I needed to tell you something—"

She started coughing so hard that I almost called for a nurse. But Caroline forced me to sit back down. At that moment, I saw a glimmer of her former self and couldn't help but smile.

"That's a good boy. You know I'm still in charge, right?" She smiled grimly. "I wanted to tell you that I never stopped having feelings for you. Even after all these years. I told myself to forget about you, but I couldn't. And then when I got diagnosed, it was like a light bulb went off."

I stared down at her, shocked. Horrified. Confused. And angry, too. This was the first moment I started to second-guess having come here.

"What about your husband?" I asked hoarsely.

"What about him? He's never understood me. Never fulfilled me either."

"Then why did you stay married to him?"

It was our age-old argument: why she'd stayed with her husband despite her numerous affairs with other men. It had haunted me years ago. Now, though, it just made me feel pity for her.

"You know the reasons, Mac," she replied, sounding angry. "It wasn't that simple."

"Of course not." I patted her hand. It wasn't worth arguing about—not anymore. She hadn't been willing to give up the security her marriage had afforded her. And I'd been just a kid without a penny to my name. Back then, it'd stung. Now? I understood, even as I pitied Caroline, too.

"Tell me you feel the same," she said, her tone imploring. She was shaking now, clearly distressed. "I know you loved me once."

Guilt made me weak. "I still love you," I said, even as I felt the words to be a lie.

She took a deep, trembling breath. Then she closed her eyes, and I could tell my words—my lies —had given her peace. And for that, I couldn't feel guilty about saying them.

She was about to die. If I could give her this, I would.I needed to be the bigger person here. Even though Caroline's actions would leave me distrustful for the rest of my life, I still wanted to bring her solace. It was no wonder I'd doubted Elodie enough to give Tony her name. I'd been conditioned through Caroline to believe that a woman can really hurt you by lying to your face and cheating someone she claimed to love. The thing is, I knew Caroline believed she did love her husband. That was what made everything she did so fucking scary. She would try to justify it, because she claimed he couldn't give her what she'd needed.

Before I left, I kissed her on the forehead and said a silent prayer that she wouldn't suffer much longer.

When I was heading out to my car, I heard my name. Thinking it was a fan, I turned, only to see a fist coming straight at my nose. It was a hard enough blow that I was sent reeling.

"You son of a bitch! How dare you show your face around here? I should've shot you when I had the chance," said a voice I never thought I'd hear again.

It was Dave Bradford. And he looked like he was about to have a stroke.

I held up my hands. "I'm leaving," I said as I wiped blood from my nose.

"You better fucking be. Get out of here, Mackenzie, before I do shoot you."

Dave stalked inside the hospital. To my chagrin, a handful of people had caught the exchange, one of whom was holding her phone and filming it.

I briefly considered asking the woman who'd filmed not to post it online, but that'd probably make things worse. And maybe she hadn't recognized me. It was dark out, and I'd made sure to wear a hat and inconspicuous clothes.

Despite the late hour, the last thing I wanted was to try to find a hotel room somewhere. I could always stay with my parents, but that thought was as bad as getting punched by Dave. Even with that altercation, I had no regrets about my decision to come see her.

I ended up going to a local bar that I'd often tried to get into using a fake ID back in the day. It was usually full of farmers and truckers—guys who didn't give a shit if a famous hockey star came around.

The interior was dark and dingy, which suited me just fine. It smelled like old beer and sweat. A TV was on in the corner with the volume on low. A few guys were scattered about, nursing their beers and not making conversation.

I ordered a beer for myself. The bartender gave me a strange look as he went to the tap and poured a Coors Light. I thought maybe he recognized me. Eventually, he delivered my beer with a chin lift. "Your nose is bleeding."

I winced. I grabbed a few napkins, wincing at how bruised my nose already felt. Dave had fucking decked me hard. Could I blame him? Not in the least.

I took my beer and napkins to a booth in the corner. On second thought, had I made a mistake going to see Caroline? The thought of Dave taking out his anger on his dying wife made me feel sick.

When I'd first met Caroline, I'd just been a kid. As the head pastor's wife, she'd seemed like a queen to me. She'd always dressed in designer clothes and worn a huge diamond on her hand that everybody had whispered had cost a fortune.And she was beautiful.

When she'd first noticed me at a dinner party my parents had hosted, I'd been an awkward, pimply-faced teen. I'd been tongue-tied, but she'd managed to make me feel like I was the only person in the world who mattered. When I'd told her that I wanted to play hockey instead of going into the church, she'd truly listened to me. Unlike my own parents, who'd told me I was wasting my time chasing an impossible dream.

The first time she'd kissed me, it had been like I'd been waiting for that moment my entire life. She'd been my sun, moon, and stars.

I grimaced, thinking about what a lovesick puppy she'd turned me into. It hadn't taken much longer to make me do anything she'd wanted.

And I'd loved her for it. I still did, in a strange, twisted way. Even when I'd been terrified of everyone finding out about our affair, I'd loved her. When she'd cried in my arms about how Dave ignored her, didn't love her anymore, wasn't a real husband to her . . . I'd wanted to fight her husband in her honor. Now, in hindsight, I could see how wrong it all was. How she might've been exaggerating things to justify her actions. Because after all these years, she was still married to him. That had to count for something. The one thing I was certain of was that I'd never know the exact truth about their marriage.

Back then, though? If Caroline had asked me to kill Dave on her behalf, I might've done it. That thought alone made me shudder. The fact that I hadn't decked him back tonight proved that, on some level, I felt bad for him, both for what he was going through now and for my actions in the past.

A few hours later, I debated getting another beer when the TV in the corner caught my attention. To my disgust, the very video of Dave punching me was playing. Below that was the headline, Playboy hockey star up to his old tricks again?

Fuck. That was the risk of coming here. But I still didn't regret it, even though all my dirty laundry was now splayed out for all the world to see.

I waited for any of the guys in the bar to realize I was sitting in a booth. When they didn't, I let out a breath.

But then my phone sounded, and I looked down to read a text from Elodie that made my blood run cold.

I just got a CNN alert on my phone about you getting into a fight. Are you okay?