Page 44 of Spiral
“Your sister?”
“Okay, she’s okay.”
“And Bruno?”
“He’s okay too,” he assured me, then gestured toward the living room where the cake sat, a tech now hovering over it, taking photos. “But this… this gift was sick. Cybercrimes are dealing with it.”
I held him in a tight embrace and felt him stiffen before he relaxed slightly against me. “I won’t let this get to me,” hemurmured, his voice muffled against my shoulder. “I have a game tonight. You’re still coming, right?”
The concern in his question tugged at me. “Of course, I’m coming. But should you be playing?” I asked, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye, searching for any sign that he might be pushing himself too hard. But there was my hockey guy, my nothing-stops-me-playing guy. The man I loved.
Craig’s jaw set, determination blazing in his eyes as he met my gaze squarely. “Damn right I will,” he affirmed, the fierceness in his tone leaving no room for argument.
I nodded, understanding. “Then I’ll be there, cheering the loudest,” I promised, squeezing his hands.
The cake and its box were removed, the cop car left, and Detective Russo reassured us they would leave no stone unturned in finding out who was doing this. She didn’t mention Leon’s name, but we all knew. Only Jackson remained, leaning against the inside of the front door as if stopping anyone from getting in.
I smiled at him.
He nodded at me, then added a tender look.
Jackson was taking this personally, and that was what Craig needed.
Craig had foregonehis usual afternoon preparation for tonight’s game, which he told me mostly included carbing up and then sleeping for an hour. Instead, we cuddled in his bed, and when he had to go to the arena, we split, and I called a cab to go home.
Not before the sweetest goodbye kiss, though.
As I walked hand in hand with Scarlett and Daisy, both girls decked out in their adorable LA Storm outfits, ready for the seven o’clock game against Montreal, I couldn’t help the rush of anticipation of seeing Craig play in the flesh. The girls were bubbling with excitement, chattering about the players they were going to see and the game. Their enthusiasm was infectious, reminding me of the first time I’d done this back in New York. But now, everything felt different.
New York had been mixed with too many memories of Oli losing Melissa, a time clouded by grief and adjustment. Not to mention me putting everything into trying to make things work with Sean and then losing access to all my data.
LA represented a fresh start, one that none of us had seen coming but all desperately needed. Here, not only had Oli found a new sense of home with the LA Storm and met his man, but I’d also fallen for Craig, and my love for him was something so damn pure and uplifting; it felt as though every day with him brought a new reason to smile.
Oli still hadn’t asked Jackson to marry him, and I was sure he was waiting for the perfect moment. The two of them, plus the girls, of course, had plans to go to Disneyland for two whole days for Scarlett’s upcoming eighth birthday, and I couldn’t help but speculate about a possible proposal. Maybe Oli would pop the question on Dumbo the Flying Elephant, or perhaps under the twinkling lights of It’s a Small World—both places seemed fitting for such a magical moment when you had two children with you who were going to be part of the entire proposal.
Whatever Oli’s plans were, it meant that I was all Craig’s for the next two nights. With no games or traveling to get in the way, I was heading to Craig’s place right after the game tonight, and then it was only the two of us for a whole two nights and one entire day. No babysitting, no working—just us.
We’d planned hot tub time, sex time, cuddling time, but maybe none of that would happen now.
I’d be happy with just the cuddling.
I simply wanted to be with him.
Chapter Eighteen
Craig
Bubbles,bubbles everywhere.
Jamie and I were chin-deep in the hot tub sipping some clementine-flavored sparkling water with the stars twinkling above us. This soak under the waning moon was just what we needed. Two days alone with no hockey—thank you NHL schedulers—no kids, no housemates, and most of all no texts from Leon. He’d been incredibly quiet since the cake incident. Probably plotting his legal strategy to battle my claims in court. His position in his law firm had been terminated within days of a visit from the police to“discuss”this situation with him in his office situated oh so politely on Wilshire Boulevard in a modern glass building. I could only assume the news had traveled like a flu bug through the forty-plus attorneys in that building.
“You’re a few thousand miles away,” Jamie commented, bringing me back from my ex and his wrangling to avoid being labeled a stalker.
“Sorry.” I smiled over at him, a soft wind blowing over my damp cheeks to tickle the wet hair on the nape of my neck. “I was thinking about Leon.”
“What’s he done now? Has he changed his mind about representing himself in court?”
“No, oh God no. He’s far too narcissistic to think anyone but him could provide him with proper representation in court.” Jamie rolled his eyes to the slip of a moon. “I know his ego knows no bounds. More power to him. I think we have him pretty well dead to rights on the stalking charge. The texts will prove that, as well as the cake, even if he is claiming that the cake was a gift to me to celebrate our beloved Bruno’s third birthday.”
