Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 23

23

ADALINE

The living room of Teta’s house is a sea of dark blue, my family decked out in Colorado Storm gear as we gather to watch Game 3 of the Western Conference Finals. Ever since Nikolas Huxley entered my life, my family has been obsessed with the Colorado Storm. To be fair, so have I. They’ve always been sports-minded, but now they’re wearing actual gear. They’ve never once done that before.

Even Teta is into it. Although she hasn’t gone as far as to buy a t-shirt yet. They’re all acting like he’s part of the family now and telling everyone they meet that their son-in-law is a famous hockey player, their pride edging toward over the top.

“The game is about to start,” Mark shouts out to those who are still lingering in the kitchen.

I’m sitting on the edge of the couch and I’m already so nervous. I spot number seven right away. I’d know those broad shoulders anywhere. I also miss them. It’s been days since I’ve seen him in person and I’ve barely even heard from him. But I’m trying to be normal about it. After all, he warned me it would be like this .

“Ada,” Aunt Vicky’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Why aren’t you at the game? I mean, you’re his wife.”

My family, on the other hand, is anything but normal about this. I force a smile and answer, “He’s been so busy with the playoffs. I didn’t want to distract him.”

Aunt Esther leans in, her voice low. “Is everything okay between you two?”

“We’re fine,” I say, probably too quickly.

The truth is, I’m not sure what we’re doing or how we’re doing if I’m being completely honest. Warning or not, I didn’t expect to feel so disconnected.

As the game starts, I watch Nik more than the puck. The way he moves on the ice, powerful and aggressive, is a stark contrast to the gentle way he is with me. I miss that Nik.

“Oh!” Teta exclaims as Nik delivers a crushing body check. “Your husband is quite the force, isn’t he?”

I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “He certainly is.”

During a commercial break, Uncle Joe turns to me. “How’s the business going, Ada? I heard you’re expanding.”

Grateful for the distraction, I launch into an explanation of the company I’m now contracting with to help produce my products. “It’s exciting, but a lot of work. Thankfully, Uncle Peter has been so helpful going through the contract with me.”

Teta Lena beams with pride at her son.

“Why didn’t you ask me to help?” Joe asks. “I would do better than that, ahbal.”

“Don’t call your brother a moron,” Teta barks at Joe. Peter isn’t even paying attention. They’re still like children.

Kyla looks up from her phone. “Hey, what’s this I hear about George and Mallory? Are they dating?”

“Yeah, they are. They’re going on a date next week. Turns out, George has had feelings for her for a while.”

That sets everyone off. I feel like telling them I told you so about George, but even I didn’t see this one coming. Everyone has an opinion, but most of it is favorable and delighted for our family friends. As they go on about it, I wonder if Nik would find this as amusing as I do? Would he wrap his arm around me and whisper a joke in my ear?

When the game resumes, Nik sets up a beautiful play that results in a goal for the Storm. The room erupts in cheers, and I feel a swell of pride. That’s my husband out there.

But as quickly as the feeling comes, it’s replaced by a gnawing doubt. Am I really his wife, or just a spectator like everyone else in this room?

The feeling doesn’t leave me the rest of the game.

As the last seconds of the game tick down, securing another win for the Storm, I make a decision. I can’t keep sitting on the sidelines of my own marriage. I miss him.

The celebration around me fades into background noise as I pull out my phone and type a message. Congratulations on the win! Can we see each other tonight?

I hit send before I can second-guess myself.

After cleaning up Teta’s house and a lot of goodbyes, I drag myself home. I keep my phone close, hopeful that I’ll hear from him. Nothing comes until I’m already in my pajamas and washing my face.

Nikolas Huxley: Thanks, Ada. Can’t tonight. Early practice tomorrow. After the playoffs, there will be time for us.

Great. Now I’m just a post-playoff obligation. Charming.

I stare at the message, trying to decipher some hidden meaning in those brief words. Is this what marriage is supposed to be like? Brief text messages and unfulfilment?

I fire back a terse Okay, good night before tossing my phone aside like it’s personally offended me. Which, let’s be honest, it kind of has.

He texts back almost immediately .

Nikolas Huxley: Are you mad at me?

I pick up the phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Am I mad? Frustrated? Hurt? All of the above? I start typing, delete it, and start again.

No, not mad. Just…we don’t talk. I hit send before I can overthink it.

His reply comes quickly.

Nikolas Huxley: I’m sorry, Ada. It’s just intense right now. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair and then reply. I know. I understand.

Nikolas Huxley: I’m sorry. We’ll talk more soon, okay?

Okay. Goodnight, Nik.

Nikolas Huxley: Goodnight, Ada.

I set my phone down and shake my head. I can’t untangle my mixed emotions. A part of me wants to be understanding, to be a supportive wife. But another part of me needs so much more. More time, more attention, more…everything.

As I flick off the light, the darkness of my bedroom feels too thick. My mind, ever the helpful companion, decides now is the perfect time to play a greatest hits album of all my anxieties about work and my family and Nik.

What if this whole marriage thing crashes and burns? How will my family react when they realize their new favorite son-in-law isn’t sticking around? They’ve practically adopted Nik already. And somehow, I’m back to this worry that I’m going to disappoint them again.

I toss and turn. My bed is usually my safe haven, but right now it feels like it’s actively working against me. Just as I’m finally drifting off a sharp knock at the door nearly sends me through the ceiling.

My heart is pounding like I’ve just chugged three strong espressos as I grab my phone and pull up the doorbell camera feed. I’m half-expecting to see an axe murderer at my door, but not my husband. Nik looks uncharacteristically disheveled. His hair is down, he’s wearing a wrinkled t-shirt with what appears to be pajama bottoms. And his expression is equal parts determined and uncomfortable.

Confused, and more than a little flustered, I make my way to the door. I swing it open and a bunch of words spill out of my mouth. “Nik? What are you doing here? I thought you said?—”

But before I can finish, Nik’s hands are on me, pulling me close like I’m the Cup and he’s just won the championship. His lips crash into mine, and suddenly I forget why I was even mad in the first place.

When we finally come up for air, I look up at him, searching for…something. An explanation? An apology? A map to figure out what the hell we’re doing?

“Tell me,” I manage to say, my voice breathier than I’d like. “Why are you here?”

Nik’s eyes are intense and dark. “I didn’t like how we left it tonight. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were upset.”

I stubbornly try to hold on to my frustration, but it’s slipping away like sand through my fingers. “So you just show up unannounced? Who do you think you are?”

“Your husband,” he says, and the way he says it makes my breath go short.

I swallow hard and try to maintain an upper hand. “Nik, you can’t just show up here like this.”

He shakes his head and grabs my shoulders. “I know I’m not good at this whole relationship thing, Ada. I know I’ve been distant, but I don’t want that.”

I feel a lump forming in my throat. “I don’t want that either,” I manage to say.

“I’ve been focused on the playoffs, and that’s important, but,” he cups my face, “you’re important too. I’m figuring it out. I promise.”

The vulnerability in his eyes pulls at my heart. “We can figure it out together, Nik. That’s what we decided to do, right? Why we decided to stay married?”

A smile flickers across his face, but it’s gone in a flash. “I’m sorry, Ada. For making you feel like you’re not part of my life. You are. A bigger part than I think you realize.”

“I know that. I do. But Nik, I need more.”

His lips are on mine again, answering my request. This kiss is different from the first. It’s less urgent, more tender. When he pulls back, his eyes are blazing with intensity.

“I need you too,” he says in a husky voice.

And just like that, the last of my resolve crumbles. I grab the front of his shirt, pulling him to me. “Show me,” I challenge him.

Nik’s eyes darken, and then he kisses me again, this time backing me up against the wall. His hands hold me so lovingly, so different from how he used them during the game.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavily. Nik rests his forehead against mine. His eyes are still closed.

“Stay,” I whisper, surprising myself with my boldness.

Nik opens his eyes and gaze into mine. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I promise.

He takes me at my word and kisses me again, this time his hands pull me closer to his body. It makes me want him even more.

I try to guide him toward my bedroom, but he stops me at the kitchen. To my surprise, he lifts me up and sets me on the counter. The cool marble is startling against my thighs. A surge of anticipation intertwines with the raw need I’m feeling.

Nik pulls my oversized t-shirt over my head and bares my skin to him in all its glory. As he removes my panties, I swear the air between us is pulsing with electricity.

And then he goes down on me with such purpose and determination that I can barely handle it. My teeth are digging into my lip and so are my fingers into his shoulders. He’s got to know by now that he’s a fucking expert at this.

I cry out the nastiest words, unable to hold back any kind of demure reaction.

He growls his pleasure into my skin. “You like this?” he demands to know.

“You know I fucking do,” I somehow say, and then the world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth on me. There’s nothing else.

I cling onto him, my fingers digging into his hair as I’m carried away in the moment.

Second by second, I lose control until I’m hanging on to him for dear life. The rumble escaping his lips vibrates through me. My body trembles, sensations exploding within me like a dam that’s been ready to burst for weeks.

His hands get involved, groping me from my breasts to my ass, and I’m completely consumed by desire. My back arches high off the counter and I’m suddenly moaning loudly into the night—coming hard for him.

Before I can recover in any meaningful way, he’s stripped off his own clothes and then he lifts me into his arms and carries me to my bedroom.

He lays me down on the bed, his lips never leaving mine. He moves down my body, kissing and licking every inch of me. I desperately want him. My body is begging for him to take me. To claim me. To make me his.

With a low growl, Nik positions himself between my legs, his hips grinding into me, sending sparks of desire through me.

“You’re on birth control, right?”

“Yes,” I say.

At that, he enters me, filling me completely, and I let out a cry of both pain and pleasure. I spread my legs wider and let him in deeper.

We move together in a frenzy, our bodies slamming into each other. We sweat and gasp and curse, unable to draw a line between need and craving, between hunger and desperation.

Nik’s breaths are ragged with his eyes locked onto mine as he thrusts into me over and over again. He’s trembling as he tries to maintain control, and I can feel each muscle and sinew in his powerful arms as he strains to hold back the most primal part of himself.

But it’s no use. His movements become more erratic, his body an uncontrollable force as he surges into me. My breath is lost while my heart thuds against my ribcage.

To my surprise, another orgasm is within reach. “Don’t stop,” I beg and slam my eyes shut. I feel his pace pick up once again, and he squeezes my ass tightly as he drives into me.

It’s all I need to lose myself once again and when I do, I pull him in with me and he finds his own release. This time, he utters my name and it’s so raw and beautiful that I nearly cry.

He falls to his back and pulls me on top of him. He’s still buried within me. I collapse onto his chest, my face against his neck, my hair covering us. He brushes it away from our faces and kisses my forehead gently.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean for things to get this wild, Ada. I just wanted you.”

“I’m not sorry at all,” I reply with a laugh. “I wanted you too.”

I can feel his smile before I can see it. He slowly pulls out of me and kisses me so sweetly. “Let me get you a cloth,” he says and makes his way out of my bedroom. I switch the bedside lamp on to make sure I get a good view of him on his way back in.

The view does not disappoint. He’s all lines and muscles. But he’s also bruised. On his hip, on his shin, on his bicep. And how did I miss the cut near his lip?

“Nik, are you okay? ”

He pauses, concern etched on his face. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“You look beat up,” I explain, which must sound really stupid to him because he laughs.

“What do you think happens when I play?” He crawls back into bed and takes gentle care of me with the cloth.

Thank God he’s going to retire after the season. I don’t think I could handle knowing he’s getting hurt on the regular like this. “I don’t know, don’t your pads help?”

“Sure, it would be way worse without them, but sometimes I have to use my body to block pucks, and they fucking hurt.”

The look on my face must be telling, because his amused smile melts into something a little softer. “I promise I’m fine, Adaline,” he says and leans in for a kiss. He lingers on my lips and kisses me a second time like he doesn’t want to stop, but he carries on assuring me. “This is nothing compared to the other injuries I’ve had.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he grins, reaching out to run his finger down my cheek. “I’ve dislocated my shoulder on multiple occasions, torn my hamstring, broken my wrist, and even had a concussion or two.”

My eyes widen at the list of injuries. “Why do you even play if it’s so dangerous?”

“Because hockey was my ticket out,” he says, his voice raw, his eyes not meeting mine for the first time since he showed up here. “Pain is just part of the package. Any athlete will tell you that.”

I remember what he told me at the corner bar, about his upbringing, about how his father isn’t a good man. I want to know him on a deeper level, so I gather some courage and ask. “What happened with your dad?”

“It’s not worth talking about,” he says, shutting it right down .

I reach out, taking his hand. “It is worth talking about, Nik. I want to know you, all of you.” God, I sound like a Hallmark card, but I mean every word.

He’s quiet for so long I wonder if I’ve overstepped. Then he sighs, and it’s like watching a dam break. “My dad…he was an angry drunk after my mom died. He used his fists to solve problems. I was usually on the receiving end.”

My heart clenches. “Oh, Nik. I’m sorry. Do you two talk at all?”

“No, I haven’t spoken to him since I left home. And I don’t intend to. I’m not even sure if he’s still alive.”

“Aren’t you curious about him?”

“No,” he answers definitively.

“What about the rest of your family?”

He huffs. “What family? My mom didn’t have any family left. And my Aunt Rebecca, his sister, was around a little after my mom died. But she had her own family that kept her busy. She ended up turning a blind eye to what was happening with my dad. Occasionally she’d come around. She’d give me a Christmas present or something like that, but she did nothing to really help me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Not every family is like your family, Ada.”

“No, I guess not.” My heart aches for him. I do feel grateful for my family, even if they’re overbearing. Better to be like that than indifferent—or worse yet, negligent. After my mom died giving birth to Mark and me, my teta and the rest of my family picked up the pieces. We knew nothing but love and had an overabundance of support. Hearing his story really puts it into perspective for me.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” I whisper, because what else can I say?

He nods, leaning in to press a soft kiss on my forehead .

We lay there for a while, just holding each other. It’s nice. Really nice. Then a thought pops into my head. “Nik?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I come see one of your games?”

He pulls back, looking surprised. “You want to?”

I nod, suddenly feeling like a teenage girl with a crush. “Yeah, I do. I want to see you in your element, to understand that part of your life before you retire.” And maybe ogle him in his uniform, but I keep that part to myself.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and damn if it doesn’t make my heart do a little flip. “I’d like that, Ada. A lot.”

We drift off to sleep tangled up in each other. It’s not perfect, but it feels like progress.

When I wake up, the bed beside me is empty. For a second, panic sets in. Did he bail? But then I spot a note on the pillow. It’s written on the back of the manila envelope that contains our annulment papers.

Ada, Had to leave early for practice. Didn’t want to wake you. Two tickets will be waiting for you at will call for tomorrow night’s game. -Nikolas

I clutch the note to my chest, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with my cozy blankets. It’s not a love letter by any means. But for Nik? It’s practically a sonnet.

I decide to take Mallory to the game over everyone else in my family. I’m already paying hell for that decision, but I know I’ll have the most fun with her and be the most relaxed.

As we enter Denver’s arena, I’m overwhelmed by the sheer energy of the place. Fans are decked out in Colorado Storm jerseys. Everyone seems so excited .

“Let’s get you a jersey,” Mallory suggests and pulls me towards the team store.

I eye the rows of dark blue jerseys until I spot the number seven with HUXLEY lettered across the back. My heart does a little flutter as I put it on.

Mallory grins at me. “Look at you, Mrs. Huxley.”

I nearly choke on air. “I’m keeping my last name. Thank you very much.”

“Sure, sure,” Mallory teases. “So, how are things going with the hubby?”

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “It’s good. Great, actually. We’re figuring things out.”

“Yeah? And how’s the sex?”

“Mallory!” I hiss and my cheeks burn.

She just laughs. “That good, huh?”

I roll my eyes, then decide to turn the tables. “What about you and George? Spill.”

Now it’s Mallory’s turn to blush. “He, uh, asked me to play pickleball with him.”

“Wow, he’s really into it, I guess.”

“I know, right? But it was actually fun. We’re both pretty competitive. And when we compete, we also flirt. I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.

“Stop it,” she laughs. “We’re going to see a movie this weekend. No kiss yet, though. He’s a little shy like that. So I’ll probably have to be the one that who makes the first move.”

“So you actually, really like George?” I ask, still in disbelief about the whole thing, because I just don’t see it.

“I really do. I mean, I don’t want to give you the whole I’m 27 years old speech from Pride and Prejudice .”

“That’s good, because we’re far past 27 and haven’t been burdens on our parents for a long time.”

“True. But I do find him quite agreeable and honestly quite cute. I always have. ”

“Why didn’t you say anything when I was going on and on about my family pressuring me to be with him?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d make fun of me about it.”

Shit, that makes me feel like an awful friend. Rightly so though, because I haven’t been too kind about him. “I’m sorry, Mallory. George is a great guy. Obviously, since he has a crush on one of the greatest people I’ve ever met. He clearly is a catch, if that’s the case.”

Mallory hooks her arm through mine. “Buy me nachos and we’ll call it good.”

As we find our seats, the teams take the ice for warm-ups. My breath catches as I spot Nik. Seeing him play in person is a whole different experience.

The game starts, and I find myself on the edge of my seat again. I just can’t handle the nerves of watching him play. It’s like I’m alternating between awe and fear for his safety. Every hit, every block, every time he goes down, my heart leaps into my throat.

“Breathe, Ada,” Mallory reminds me and squeezes my arm.

I try, but it’s hard when Nik’s out there putting his body on the line. The game is fast, brutal, and nothing like watching it on TV.

Suddenly, the crowd roars as Nik delivers a crushing check to Johnson, a Dallas forward trying to slip past him with the puck. Johnson goes down hard, and even from here, I can see him spitting words at Nik as he gets back up. In an instant, fists are flying and I’m on my feet before I even realize it.

My hands cover my mouth. “Oh my God,” I gasp.

Mallory’s eyes are wide. “Holy shit, your husband can fight.”

I watch, torn between horror and a completely inappropriate surge of attraction, as Nik and Johnson trade blows. It’s brutal and intense, and I can’t look away. Finally, the refs separate them, sending both to the penalty box .

As Nik skates off the ice, his eyes scan the crowd. For a moment, I swear he looks right at me. Even from this distance, I can see the fire in his eyes. It’s one of the things that drew me to him in the first place back in Las Vegas.

“You okay?” Mallory asks, nudging me.

I nod, not trusting my voice. Because the truth is, I’m more than okay. I’m exhilarated, terrified, and completely, irrevocably falling for my husband.

God help me.