Icebound (Boundless Players)

What the hell just happened? I shut the door with a click, panting. My brain’s all scrambled like I got slammed into the boards. I’m still thinking of Nina as I reach into my gym bag. I pull out a clean jersey for her—my jersey.

“Here. You can wear this.” I press my lips to her forehead, not wanting her to worry about Morgan. That’s my issue. “Get dressed. I’ll explain in a second.”

She takes the fabric. “You want me to wear your jersey?”

“Yeah, I just fucked you against a door, so if you’re going to wear someone’s jersey, it’ll be mine.”

She rolls those beautiful eyes. “How thoughtful after you ruined Micah’s.”

Nina pulls the heavy fabric over herself, and pride swells in my chest at the sight of her in my number Thirty, but it’s not because she looks like mine.

I’ll never belong to her.

It’s because she’s willing to support our team, even when she claims she’s not a fan. I never thought a woman who could rock a pair of corduroy overalls could look like she was born to wear navy and white.

She pulls out a compact mirror, pursing her lipstick-smeared mouth in the reflection. “You made a mess of me, Rhode Tremblay.”

My cock twitches at the thought of those full, red-stained lips wrapped around me, but we agreed we’d only do this once.

I drag my eyes away from her, pushing away the thought, and pull a tissue from the box on the desk. “You might be a mess, but you’re my mess. Here, let me help.”

Her eyes widen when I tug her bottom lip down and swipe the tissue over her cherry mouth. That beautiful, witty mouth. The one I’m desperate to kiss, but I won’t take anything else from her. When I’ve wiped away all the red, I stuff the tissue into my pocket without a second thought.

We put on our clothes in silence. It’s not awkward, but it’s thick. I’m having a hard time thinking about anything other than the taste of her.

It’s probably because I haven’t had sex in over a year, but that orgasm felt like it pulsed through my entire body, or I don’t know, maybe it had everything to do with Nina. I’m already getting hard again just thinking of her breathy moans in my ear.

I can’t bring myself to regret what happened when that might’ve been the best sex of my life. I have no idea if it’s because of Nina or my dry spell, but damn, that was incredible.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

I’m not going to use her for sex. I barely have a chance to process everything before there’s another knock.

I crack the door open and slide into the hallway so no one gets a view of her, slamming right into my little sister, decked out in Cruz’s jersey. “Wyn? What are you doing back here? I thought we were meeting tomorrow for lunch.”

Rowyn’s got her black hair pulled into a braid, and her gray eyes narrow at my disheveled suit. “Really, Ro? An office? I thought you were done with all this ever since you lost that sponsorship.”

I grimace, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the office door’s closed. “It’s not like that.”

I’ve never felt anything like what happened in there, but I’d rather puke from three hours of skating butterfly slides than discuss my sex life with my little sister. “I’m not talking about this with you, and that’s not what that was. That was…” I’m not sure what’s at the end of that sentence, so I trail off.

My sister flicks her braid over her shoulder in the same way she’s been doing since she was a cocky five-year-old.

Mom and I always said she’d either end up in prison or the Oval Office, and based on the judging look she’s giving me, I’d say the Oval Office is more likely. “Fine, I just came to find you because—”

The door opens, and Nina strides up to us, glasses askew and her dirty blonde hair a mess. I want to smooth out the strands, but that’ll give Wyn the wrong impression, and then she’ll fire off a million questions at Nina.

My sister’s eyes go wide. “Hold on. I know you. Aren’t you in my art history class? You saved me from answering that question, right?”

I tense.

Nina tilts her head. “Wait, yeah, you’re… Rowyn, right?”

My sister squeals, throwing her arms around Nina, who freezes. “Yes, thank you for that! I’m Rowyn Tremblay.” She pulls back, eyes bouncing between me and Nina. “How do you know my brother?”

Nina’s mouth falls. “Rhode’s your brother?”

“Hold on, you two are in the same class?” I interject, dizzy all of a sudden.

They nod in unison.

I try not to cringe, but it’s hard. Did I really just have sex with a girl in my sister’s class? Someone put me in the sin bin.

I clear the thought, trying to calm the hell down. Alright, it’s fine. I can handle this. I made my decision, and now I have to own the fact. Nina and I might be a one-time thing, but I’m not going to keep her like a secret.

I can’t keep her at all.

Nina’s cheeks turn pink under the fluorescent lights, and she waves a casual hand. “We’re just friends. I didn’t realize Rhode was your brother. I gave him a ride once.” She winces, then backtracks. “I mean, in a car. Wait, that’s not better. I didn’t ride him in a car. What I meant was—”

I squeeze her shoulder. “We met a few months ago. We’re friends now.”

Wyn’s eyes narrow on me and yeah, here it comes, the lecture on how Nina’s too young for me. “I didn’t realize you were friends with people I went to school with, Ro. It seems like you two are the friendliest of friends.”

A smile lights up my sister’s face. “Which is great! It’ll be nice to have another girl around because it’s always testosterone overload over here. Speaking of which, I came to find you after the game and tell you what an idiot you are for fighting Cruz. Delay of game penalties at your age? Really, Ro? You know better.”

Nina gasps, grabbing Wyn’s shoulder. “I was thinking the same thing!”

Great, now they’re bonding. Though, I’m a little surprised Wyn’s not lecturing me, and, come to think of it, that Nina knows the meaning of a delay of game penalty. Maybe I’m the only one overthinking the age difference.

“Rhode, there you are!”

My spine goes rigid at that familiar voice.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Morgan striding down the hallway wearing my Guardians jersey. The man won’t stop showing up to my games, no matter how hard I push him away.

The bright number Thirty is plastered to the navy front. His hair is thick like mine, but while I’ve got a speckle of silver at my temples, he’s gray throughout. I grit my jaw every time I’m forced to look at him because we’ve got the same blue eyes, dimple, and jawline.

I’m the spitting image of Morgan Tremblay—just nineteen years younger.

My father shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and rocks back on his heels the same way I do. “Hey, son. Great game today, though, that fight on the ice looked a bit rough. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I say with clenched fists, gesturing to Nina. “Morgan, this is Nina, my friend. Nina, this is Morgan Tremblay. My father.”

Their eyes stretch wide, matching each other’s shock, but instead of judgment on my father’s face, there’s a big, genuine smile. Nina looks at me with a question in her eyes, so I nod. I’ve never introduced my family to any of the women I’ve dated, but I don’t mind them meeting Nina.

My father takes her hand, shaking it enthusiastically like he’s greeting our general manager. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Nina.”

Her lips curve. “It’s really nice to meet you, too, Mr. Tremblay.”

“Please, call me Morgan. My own son does,” he adds, sounding bitter.

He squeezes her hand, revealing his dimpled grin. While I’ve got one, he has two on each side. That slight difference always puts a smug smile on my face.

“It’s nice to meet someone in my son’s life since he normally doesn’t introduce me to his friends. Wyn and I were heading out to get dinner, but we wanted to stop by after the game to see if you’d like to come. You can join us too, Nina.”

“Sorry, we can’t,” I interject before she can say anything. “I have to take Nina home, and I’ve got a string of away games to prepare for next week.”

“Are you sure?” Nina asks. “I can find a ride home. I don’t mind.”

“No, I want to take you home.” I peer into her hazels behind her glasses, and she nods. Somehow, we’re able to communicate without words.

I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

“Oh. Alright, sure. Maybe next time.” A hint of sadness appears in my father’s eyes, but it’s a reaction I’ve come to expect whenever I turn him away. Every time he flies to Nashville, I’ve got an armory of excuses at the ready. He musters a grin, and I respond with a grimace, a reflex as ingrained in me as dropping down into butterfly.

Morgan nods. “Right. Well, maybe we’ll see you tomorrow for lunch with Wyn? I’m flying back home to Seattle to see your mom on Friday.”

I hitch my gym bag over my shoulder. “Can’t. I’ve got to pack.”

My sister gives me her big, sad eyes that I’ve grown immune to. “Please, Ro? Come with us? It’ll be fun.”

I pull Wyn into a hug, whispering in her ear. “I’ll get lunch with you when I get back, but I’m not going with him. It’s awkward.”

Wyn’s shoulders sink. “Fine, but you know I hate this. I just want all of us to get along.”

I kiss the top of her head. “We’ll do lunch another time. We better head out. It was nice seeing you, Morgan.”

He winces like he always does when I call him Morgan instead of Dad but plasters on a fake smile. Another ritual.

My father leans in, hugging me to his chest. “It was good to see you play today, Rhode. You’re a beauty on the ice. Whenever you want to get lunch, all you have to do is call, and I’ll be there.”

I pull away, give Wyn a goodbye hug, and stride out into the parking lot with Nina at my side. We get in my Range Rover, and I blast the air conditioning since we’re in the middle of a heat wave. The engine roars to life.

Nina shifts in the passenger seat. “Do you want to talk about that?”

“What? The sex?”

The sex I can’t stop thinking about.

From the passenger seat, she twists her thumbs in my periphery. “No, I mean, we should, but I meant what happened with your dad after the game. Seems like there’s some drama there, and you know…” She points to her head. “Big ears and all.”

My mouth curls up. “You’ve actually got really small ears.”

“You know what I mean. You can talk to me. I’ll listen.”

I blow out a breath, saying the words like a rehearsed media speech. “My dad’s a sports broadcaster, and he left my mom for a younger woman a while back. Just packed a bag and walked out on us. My sister doesn’t remember it because she was so young, but I never forgot hearing my mom begging him to stay when she caught him leaving in the middle of the night. Never even said goodbye.”

She reaches out to grip my thigh, and the heat of her hand sears through my pants like a burn that’ll take weeks to heal. “I’m so sorry, Rhode. That’s really hard.”

My fingers tighten on the leather wheel. “Yeah, it was. I didn’t get to be a teenager after that since I was too busy with hockey and helping out with Wyn, which I guess is why I went a little wild in my twenties when I got into the League.”

“That’s understandable, but it seems like your dad’s trying to make an effort now?”

Irritation sparks in my body, but I push away the feeling. Nina doesn’t know much about my past, and she always stands up for the underdog, so I won’t hold that against her.

“Yeah, he’s been trying for a while now.” Flicking on my blinker, I turn onto a side street and slow to fifteen under the limit because I’m not ready to say goodbye. “Even though he left, he always supported us. Paid for my hockey gear. Sent birthday cards, but it wasn’t the same as having a dad around, you know? Wyn barely remembers, it, but I do.”

She squeezes my thigh. “At least he tried to stay connected. That counts for something, right?”

That flare of annoyance grows into a flame. No father should walk out on their family, and Morgan doesn’t deserve Nina’s sympathy.

“Yeah, I guess.” I shift on the leather seat. “He came back and begged my mom for another chance, and she gave it to him. He hasn’t left her side since. Makes her breakfast every Sunday and never forgets flowers for an anniversary. Mom got him back, Wyn got a dad, and I got fucked. They forgive him, but someone needs to hold him accountable for his mistakes, and that’s on me. He’s the one who ruined our relationship when he left.”

She’s quiet for a while. We’re pulling up to her brownstone when she finally speaks. “Have you ever thought about forgiving him?”

My teeth grind. “Why would I ever forgive him for leaving?”

“I don’t know.” She twists her thumbs in her lap. “Because he came back? Because he’s trying? People deserve second chances if they’re trying to make things right.”

Years of pent-up resentment make anger spike in my blood. I jerk the car to the curb. “I don’t mean for this to sound harsh, but you weren’t there when I held my mom as she cried over the sink. You didn’t see all the hockey practices I almost missed because I had to pick up Wyn from school. My dad left and forced me to step into his shoes because he was a selfish prick.” I scoff. “Maybe you’re just too young to understand.”

Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.

She lets out a derisive snort, and her fingers fumble with the seat belt to free herself. “Trust me, I understand everything you’re saying, but all I saw in that hallway was a father who wanted to hug his son and a son who refused to hug him back. People should be allowed to change. Do you know who I’d be if everyone still treated me like the girl I was? I’d be this depressed shell of a person, but—”

“You’re not a shell of a person. Who said that?” I almost shout, suddenly pissed off for a whole different reason. “You’re the most vibrant person I know.”

That stumps her for a second, and I’m somewhat stunned I just blurted those words.

She jerks her head. “That’s because I worked hard to be better, and it’s not fair to hold someone accountable to a past version of themselves when they’re trying, but you’re right.” She mimics my scoff, getting out of the car. “Maybe I’m just ‘too young to understand.’”

She slams the car door hard enough to rattle the glass.

Guilt strikes me like a swift punch, almost making me lightheaded. This can’t be our last conversation. Swinging open the door, I bolt from the car, closing the distance between us with determined steps.

She doesn’t even make it to the front door before I’m reaching for her arm. “Nina, wait! I’m sorry. Please, don’t walk away from me. I didn’t mean that. I was just pissed. I’m sorry.”

I catch her right as she whirls around. Tears carve her mascara-streaked face. Dammit, I made her cry. Regret tightens my chest. I gently tip her chin upward. With my calloused thumb, I brush the black trails from beneath her eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m mad at my father, and I took it out on you. I always get like this around him. You’re not too young, I’m just an asshole.”

She lets me pull her into a hug, and her body molds into my chest like a perfect glove fit.

“You’re not an asshole,” she mumbles into my shirt. “But that was an asshole thing to say.”

I gently sway her in my arms. “Called out, like always.”

“Maybe I overreacted. I kind of do that when anything minorly inconvenient happens.”

“You didn’t. You just reacted to my shitty comment.”

She rubs her face against my button-down, but I don’t care if she gets makeup on me when I’ve got her in my arms.

After a moment, she stands on her toes and kisses my jaw, right on the edge of my mouth, and I’m tempted, so damn tempted, to turn my head and capture her mouth with mine, but this needs to end. I need to find someone who wants the same things I do.

She lets her lips stay there for a second before sinking back down to her heels. My skin feels like it’s burning where her mouth touched.

“So, I guess this is goodbye? You sure you don’t want to come up to my room for round two? We could have shower sex? Keep it casual,” she teases. At least, I think she’s joking. I can’t tell because her voice is all high-pitched.

Fire rushes to my dick at the idea, but my brain’s in charge tonight. As much as it hurts to say goodbye, I need to let this girl go so I don’t tie her down with the life of a hockey player. I stroke her cheeks because I want her to know she means something, but I’m not going to be the asshole who strings her along until I meet the woman I marry.

“As much as I want to do that again, and believe me, I want to… I can’t do casual, Nina. I’ve been there, and that’s not what I want. So, unless you’re ready for marriage, or something long-term, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She steps back to wrap her arms around herself. “No, you’re right. That’s not what I want. I’m not ready for that yet, and I knew this was a one time thing.”

I kiss her forehead, breathing in her cinnamon scent, and commit it to memory. “I need you to know something, though… If you were older, or I were younger, I’d never let a girl like you go.”

Her eyes look like they’re welling up, but it could be the streetlight reflection. “The person you end up with is going to be one lucky bastard too, Rhode Tremblay…” She steps back. “But can I, uh, ask you something? Before I go?”

“Always.”

She nibbles her thumbnail, rocking on her heels. “Did you buy out the extra seats around us at the hockey game so I’d have space?”

My back stiffens, and I debate lying because I don’t want her to feel like an inconvenience, but I’m tired of lying to her, and myself. “Yeah, but no one was using them anyway. Why?”

“Nothing, just… Thank you. No one’s ever done something like that for me before. It means a lot.”

That pisses me off for no reason. She deserves more. “The person you end up with should do things like that for you, Nina. That was the bare minimum.”

“Maybe for you.” Her lips twitch into a smile. “Well, thanks for being my blueprint.”

I don’t like knowing she’s going to compare me to other men, but I give her a two-fingered salute. “Anytime.”

When neither one of us attempts to bridge the distance between us, I force myself to let her go. “Goodnight, Nina.”

A corner of her mouth lifts. “Don’t have sweet dreams. Have wild ones.”

I go rigid. “You heard that?”

“I listened.” She lifts a casual shoulder, making an air circle with her finger. “Big ears, remember?”

She walks backward into her apartment, never taking her eyes off me. I don’t leave until the light flicks on in her bedroom window, and even then, I still stand there for a few moments, looking up at her window and watching her shake out her ponytail.

“Goodbye, beautiful girl,” I whisper into the night.

Nina’s not naive, but there’s an idealistic way that she views people. She stands up for those who need it because I think, maybe, she’s always had to fight her own battles. I’ve always stood up for people who earned it on the team but never the ones who didn’t.

I want to be a little more like Nina Alstyne.

So, on the way home, I do something I haven’t done in years—I pick up the phone and dial my dad’s number. But on the second ring, I lose my courage and hang up.

I don’t answer when he calls back a minute later, and when he calls again, I put my phone on silent.