Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 19

19

ADALINE

I suspect Nikolas Huxley is as good at making breakfast as he is in bed. It’s the effortless way he moves. His confidence. His ability to balance more than one thing at a time. He’s cracking eggs, flipping pancakes, seasoning potatoes. He makes it all look so simple. He’s already put a cup of coffee in front of me and a few hot slices of bacon.

He’s pulled his hair back to cook and as much as I love that rugged mountain man look he’s got when it’s down, I like this just as much. It shows off the angles of his face. I try to memorize all the details because this is most likely the last time I’ll be able to admire him in person.

His nose is prominent and regal, the kind of nose that belongs on a Roman statue. His eyes, a deep, rich brown that seems to see straight past all our bullshit and right into my soul. And his arms, oh god, his arms. The way his biceps flex as he whisks the eggs, the corded muscles of his forearms rippling with every movement. I have a sudden flashback to the way those arms felt wrapped around me, the way his body felt moving inside mine. The memory sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to look away before I do something stupid, like reach out and touch him. I’m still way too mad at him to do that without feeling completely weak.

I thought I could be strong, that I could face him and walk away unscathed. But being here, in his space, in his presence, I realize just how weak I truly am. Every cell in my body is attuned to him, every nerve ending sparking with a longing I can’t deny.

One part of me wants to forgive him on the spot for what he did…what he said. But the other part—the part with the vivid memory of that night, the part with the stubborn streak a mile wide—can’t do it. Maybe this breakfast is a start toward some kind of internal reconciliation between those feelings.

As he continues cooking, my mind drifts to the signed papers. It was a necessary step, invalidating our impulsive Vegas marriage. We couldn’t continue living a lie, pretending that what we had was real when it was built on a foundation of revenge and rebellion, especially if he’s still hung up on his ex.

The question I can’t seem to move past is why does it hurt so badly that it’s ending? I knew what it was. I went into it with open eyes.

Why am I having a hard time letting him go? Why is the finality of it making me want to cry?

I need to move on and settle down with someone, do right by my family and especially my grandmother. George isn’t going to give me that spark, that rush of flutters that Nik does. But sparks and flutters are fleeting, right? You can’t build a lifetime on those. George is a decent man, I know that.

For now, I’ll give myself this one last meal with Nik. A last hurrah, if you will. I know it’s not the smartest move, eating breakfast with my soon-to-be non-husband like we just woke up together. But damn it, I want to do this. Soon I’ll have to face the music and settle for a life that will never quite measure up to the electricity I feel when I’m with him.

So yeah, I’ll enjoy this stolen moment. I’ll commit every joke, every accidental brush of his hand against mine, every glance to memory. And when this breakfast is over, I’ll tuck it all away in a corner of my heart, a secret stash of “what ifs” and “could have beens” that I can revisit when the reality of my sensible, Nik-less life gets a little too mundane.

Nik finishes cooking and places a plate piled high with food in front of me. Then he pulls up a stool beside me. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The only sound is the clink of cutlery and the occasional happy grunt from Max as Nik slips him a piece of bacon.

As I reach down to pet Max, I fall a little in love with the dog I thought was so menacing not too long ago. He leans into my touch, his tail thumping happily against the floor.

“He likes you,” Nik says, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I like him too,” I reply, scratching Max behind the ears. “Turns out he’s a sweetheart.”

Nik chuckles. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’s got a reputation to protect as a fierce defender.”

I glance up at Nik, my heart skipping a beat at the warmth in his eyes. “Like his dad, then.”

Something flickers across Nik’s face, too quick for me to decipher. He clears his throat, changing the subject. “So, how are things at the shop? You said business has been good.”

I nod, grateful for the new topic. “Good, I developed a new body wash using neroli. It’s been selling out every day. I think I’m going to have to outsource the production of my products. Mallory and I can’t keep up with it all.”

“Wow, that’s incredible, Ada. You’re so talented.”

His words make my chest tighten, a bittersweet ache blooming behind my ribs.

“Thanks,” I murmur. “How about you? How are the playoffs going?”

Nik’s expression brightens. “It’s been intense. We barely made it past Vancouver, but we found our stride against L.A. And Hawk, man, he’s been unbeatable in the net.”

“I heard about what happened with him and your teammate’s wife. It was all over social media. That must have been rough on the team.”

Nik sighs, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, it was a mess. There was a while there where I thought it was gonna really fuck everything up. But we’re a tight-knit group. We have each other’s backs, no matter what.”

I admire his loyalty and the way he stands by his teammates through thick and thin. It’s a new thing to like about him. Not that I need new things to like about him. In fact, it would be good for me to find more things to dislike about him. That would make this so much easier.

As we finish our breakfast, the conversation flows easily, the awkwardness from earlier melting away. We laugh and joke, trading stories about our lives and our work. It feels natural. And it almost makes me forget that he dropped his ex-wife’s name while on top of me.

“You know,” Nik says, his voice hesitant, “It’s a beautiful day out. I was thinking of taking Max for a walk on the trail behind the house. Would you... maybe want to join us?”

I blink, surprised by the invitation. There’s something in his tone that makes me suspect he’s not ready for me to leave yet. I’m tempted to say yes. I so badly want to cling to these last few moments with him. But I know that the longer I stay, the more complicated it will be between us. The more hurt I will feel when I drive away.

“I don’t know, Nik,” I say, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “I should probably get going. I’ve got a lot of work?—”

“It’s just a short trail,” he interrupts, his eyes meeting mine. “Nothing extreme, just a nice path through the woods. Twenty minutes each way, tops.”

I glance down at my sneakers, then back at Nik. He’s still in his pajama pants, and I realize he’d need to change before we go anywhere. It’s another chance for me to bow out gracefully, to stick to my plan and move on with my life. But my heart, traitorous thing that it is, won’t let me walk away. Not yet.

“Okay,” I say finally, the word barely above a whisper. “A short walk.”

The tension leaves Nik’s shoulders. “Great. Let me just change quickly, and we can head out.”

As he disappears into his bedroom, I’m left alone with Max, who trots over with his tail wagging hopefully. I reach down to pet him, using it as an excuse to gather my thoughts. This walk might be a terrible idea, but the flutter in my stomach at the prospect of spending just a little more time with Nik is undeniable.

A few minutes later, he emerges in jeans and he’s changed into a white t-shirt that is quite possibly my kryptonite. His biceps. His forearms. His shoulders. His neck. Fuck .

“Ready?” he asks, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As we head for the back door, with Max bounding ahead excitedly, I know I’m making a mistake. But watching Nik as he leads the way, seeing the way he glances back to make sure I’m following, I also can’t bring myself to regret it.

The mountain air hits us as we step outside, and I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. As we start down the trail, the woods stretching out around us, I realize that maybe I’m not ready to say goodbye either. Not just yet.

As we walk along the trail, the silence between us is filled with the crunch of pine needles beneath our feet and Max’s occasional huffs. The surrounding forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling new leaves.

Once we’re pretty far along the trail, I gather the courage to break the silence. “So, have you given any more thought to what comes after hockey?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.

Nik pauses for the briefest second and a flicker of uncertainty crosses his face. “It’s been on my mind a lot lately,” he admits. “The idea of retirement…it’s terrifying if I’m being honest.”

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

“As I told you, hockey’s been my whole life,” he says, his voice low. “The thought of not having that anymore, of not knowing what comes next…well, it’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, not sure if I’m going to fall or fly.”

His vulnerability touches something deep inside me. I know he doesn’t open up easily. “What about coaching?” I suggest. “You’ve got so much experience to share.”

He shakes his head right away. “I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure I’m cut out for that. It requires a different kind of patience and a different approach to the game.”

We walk in silence for a moment before he turns to me. His expression is thoughtful. “Your grandmother isn’t well?” Nik asks gently.

I shake my head, feeling the weight of worry creeps back over me. “No, she’s not. Her heart is getting weaker. The doctors say she needs to rest more, but she’s always been so active. It’s hard for her to slow down.”

Nik slows down and places his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Does she have congestive heart failure?”

I blink a few times and it’s like a light bulb goes on. “She didn’t say that specifically, but…I guess that’s probably right.”

He nods sadly and we keep walking. As we round a bend in the trail, the trees suddenly open up to reveal a breathtaking view of the valley below. The mountains on the other side still have patches of snow on their peaks, despite the fact that it’s late May.

We both stop, taking in the magnificent sight, while Max snoops around. Without warning, Nik reaches out and takes my hand in his. The warmth of his skin against mine is blissfully familiar. I’d missed it so much.

I know I should pull away. This is dangerous territory we’re treading into. But standing here, with the beauty of nature spread out before us and Nik’s hand holding mine, I can’t bring myself to break the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I look up at him to find he’s already gazing at me. “For what?”

“For saying Debbie’s name.”

I pull my hand from his grasp and wrap my arms around my torso. “Tell me about her.” It sounds like a demand. I guess it kind of is. If I can understand it, maybe I can start to let it go.

Nik’s jaw tightens, and for a moment I think he might not answer. His eyes scan the horizon as if searching for the right words among the distant peaks.

“Debbie was my first real relationship,” he finally says, his voice low and rough. “I met her when I was already in the league. Before that, I never let anyone get close.”

He pauses, and I wait, sensing there’s more he needs to say. Max whines softly, sensing the tension, and Nik absently reaches down to scratch behind his ears.

“After I left home,” he continues. “I spent years focusing on nothing but hockey. Debbie was the first person I let myself care about in a long time.”

“That must have been a big step for you.”

Nik sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “It was. But I wasn’t prepared for what an actual relationship meant. The commitment, the vulnerability. And she struggled with the lifestyle, especially with the amount I had to travel.”

“That must have been hard for both of you,” I say softly.

Nik nods, his eyes distant. “It was. We fought a lot. About everything and nothing. But I tried to make it work. I thought that’s what I was supposed to do.”

He falls silent again, and I can see the pain etched in the lines of his face. I resist the urge to reach out and comfort him.

“What happened?” I ask.

Nik’s eyes meet mine again. The raw vulnerability I see there takes my breath away. “She left. Said she couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t be a hockey wife. And I refused to let her go for a long time…until I had to.”

I digest this information, trying to piece together the puzzle of Nik’s past. “And after that?”

Nik shifts uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the ground. “After that…there wasn’t anyone else. Not until...”

He trails off, but I can fill in the blank. Not until me. The realization hits me like a physical blow. I was his first since Debbie. Suddenly, his reaction that night makes a little more sense.

“Nik,” I say gently, “is that why you said her name? Because I was the first since...”

He nods, unable to meet my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ada. It wasn’t like how you’re thinking. It didn’t mean what you thought it did. It was like muscle memory, I guess. I’m sorry.”

The pain in his voice is palpable. My anger and hurt about what happened that night softens around the edges. I don’t reach out to him, but I take a small step closer.

“Thank you for telling me,” I tell him. “I think I understand a little better now.”

Nik looks over, meeting my gaze. “I never meant to hurt you, Ada. That night wasn’t about anyone else. It was...”

He pauses, struggling to find the right words. His eyes dart away for a moment before returning to mine. “Our marriage might have started for the wrong reasons, but you have to know, you have to be able to tell that my attraction… ”

He trails off and runs a hand over his hair. I can see him wrestling with how to communicate this to me.

Finally, he sighs. “Look, I’m not good at this. But from that first night in Las Vegas, there was something about you I immediately liked. A feeling I couldn’t ignore, even when I tried.”

His words are halting, careful, but I can sense the weight behind them. The admission, small as it is, feels significant coming from Nik.

A faint flush creeps up his neck. “And, being with you.” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable but pressing on. “You’re beautiful, Ada. And that night meant something to me.”

He falls silent, looking almost surprised by his own admission. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s bracing himself for my response.

“What we have,” he continues, his voice low, “it’s complicated. But it’s not nothing. At least, not to me.”

“It’s not nothing?” I ask with a faint scoff. “You sure know how to charm a girl.”

“Like I said, I’m not good with words,” he presses.

“I guess not,” I say, and the bitterness in my tone surprises even me.

After Nik’s admission about Debbie and his attraction to me, the air between us feels charged with unspoken emotions. I take a deep breath, trying to process everything he’s shared.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” I finally say. “I really do appreciate you explaining about Debbie and everything else. I’ve always been able to tell that you’re guarded, Nik. I’m glad you trust me.”

Nik nods. He’s wearing an unreadable expression. “I just wanted you to understand. I never meant to hurt you, Ada.”

We stand in silence for a moment and I can feel my resolve wavering. I know forgiving him is the right thing to do, but it shouldn’t change my mind about moving on. Or should it ?

“We should probably head back,” I say finally, breaking the tension.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Nik’s voice is tinged with disappointment.

As we make our way back down the trail, I’m truly conflicted. Part of me wants to reach out, to take Nik’s hand and tell him that maybe we could try to make this work. But the rational part of my mind reminds me of the complications, of the hurt I’m still nursing. And with everything Nik is going through, I’m uncertain he’s a safe choice for me. Teta was probably right about choosing someone I could rely on. And maybe it’s wiser to settle for someone who can’t break my heart because he never had it in the first place.

When we finally reach Nik’s house, I linger on the porch, unsure of what to say or do next. When nothing comes to mind, I surrender to our fate. “I should probably get going,” I say.

Nik nods, his eyes searching mine. “Ada, I?—”

“Thank you for breakfast,” I interrupt, not ready to hear whatever he’s about to say. “And for the walk. It was…nice.”

Nik just stares at me in response. “I’ll get your bag.”

He returns and hands it over to me. I swear it feels heavier than it did before he signed the papers.

As I get ready to leave, I feel a pang in my chest. “I’ll let you know when I’ve dropped these off at your attorney’s office,” I say, forcing myself to sound businesslike.

As usual, he stands there in silence. His jaw is tight, his eyes piercing into me. But he gives absolutely nothing more.

I give myself more time than I should to look at him one last time before I walk toward my car. I know, without a doubt, that this is the last time I will ever see Nikolas Huxley.