27: Dropping the Gloves Read online

  Copyright © 2017 by Mignon Mykel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a media retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of this book, excepting of brief quotations for use in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design and Formatting: oh so novel

  Editor: Jenn Wood, All About the Edits

  All images have been purchased

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  About Mignon Mykel

  For Melissa.

  Jordan and Marlo’s story was one I wanted to scrap many, many times.

  Thank you for talking me off the ledge more than once.

  Prologue

  It was late.

  I had purposely come home later than normal; I was terrified of having this conversation.

  What I was preparing myself to say, to admit, was something that had been weighing on my mind, festering in the back, for the last year or so.

  We weren’t us anymore.

  Or, more importantly, I wasn’t me anymore. My thoughts, my actions… I didn’t recognize this man.

  I stared at her, sitting across from me at the table we chose together four years before, in a house we only bought last year. This was supposed to be our starter home. Hell, at the price point we bought it, ideally even our forever home. It was supposed to be the home we made love in and raised babies in.

  Grew old in.

  But everything changed.

  She wasn’t the same.

  I wasn’t the same.

  It was nearly dark in the house, the only light coming from the kitchen a few feet away, but I could make out her every feature. Her blonde hair was swept up on the top of her head, partially falling out of a bun. She’d been sleeping on the couch when I walked through the door.

  Waiting up for me.

  Her brown eyes were tired, but I also saw she was scared. She knew something was wrong.

  I knew her face as well as my own. I knew her emotions, her thoughts. She was as much a part of me as I was of her.

  I looked at my wife.

  The woman I had been with since I was fourteen.

  The only woman I had ever loved.

  The single person, other than my parents, who stood by my side through my middle school, high school, and college hockey years. The same woman who cheered next to me as I was drafted to the NHL’s San Diego Enforcers. The one who supported me through my first year as a pro.

  The mother of the precious bundle in pink in the next room over.

  I started to think outside of our relationship, though, and the day I found myself in a hotel room with a woman that wasn’t my wife…

  I didn’t do anything, but I almost did, and it made me feel like a lesser man.

  God, I hated hurting her. Hated knowing I was taking away from her more than just a ring on her finger. I was her family in every sense of the word.

  But I didn’t want to drag my best friend, this beautiful woman, down and through the dirt.

  I took a deep breath and braced myself for her reaction.

  And I forced the words from my mouth.

  “I want a divorce.”

  Chapter One

  Marlo

  “Rori!” I searched frantically around the giant indoor treehouse playground where my daughter had a playdate with friends. The facility was huge—three stories of industrial items put together to make a fun area for kids. Wood planks and metal bars and old engines and a porcelain claw-foot tub, all making up a place to climb and play.

  And a terrifying place for parents who looked away for three seconds.

  She couldn’t be far. She had to be here somewhere…

  Oh, my God.

  I had to be the worst mother in the world. Who loses their five-year-old in a sea of children?

  Oh, yes, that’s right. The single mother who freaked at a breaking news update on her app, and was too busy reading through the latest NHL transaction reports.

  The single mother who was going to be coming face to face with her past.

  Who finds out their ex is coming back to town from reading trade transactions? This girl.

  “She can’t be far,” my friend Sydney said from beside me, juggling a toddler on her hip while a baby slept on her chest in a carrier. Little Brielle had her momma’s red hair and just wanted to get down at walk. “Brandon!” A tall five-year-old at the base of the slides turned his head toward her. “Where are Rori and your brother?”

  He shrugged his shoulder and turned his attention to a piping system that blew out fabric scarves after children stuffed them in.

  My heart was racing; I could hear the blood roaring behind my ears.

  Oh, my God. I lost my little girl.

  My eyes burned and soon I was blinded by the haze of tears. I looked up, trying to see through the planks and metal that made up stairs and bridges, but my little blonde-haired girl was nowhere to be seen.

  Brody’s missing too.

  I tried to let that calm me to any degree, but it was of no use. These places were ideal hunting grounds for predators. Why in the hell did parents let their kids run rampant here? Who knew what adults were the ones here with children, and who were the pedophiles, who were out to—

  “I see them,” Sydney breathed out, pointing toward the second-story landing where hanging pool noodles made up a maze.

  Sydney grabbed the hand of her eldest and we headed toward a grand staircase that was lit with colorfully changing lights. Brandon was grumbling about this not being fair, and I heard Sydney whisper-yell something to him, but I couldn’t hear much over the pounding of my heart.

  At the top of the stairs, we quickly turned into the play section there, and sitting on the ground, was my blonde-haired daughter and Sydney’s dark-haired boy.

  I dropped to my knees, a breath of relief pushing through my lips. “Aurora Grace.”

  She looked up then, the smile on her face blinding. Her face was mine, but her eyes…

  “Marlo,” a deep voice said from behind me, and I knew, I just knew, before looking behind me.

  Rori’s eyes were his.

  With a deep breath, I pulled myself back up to my full height and turned to face the man I had only moments before, ironically, been bracing myself for.

  My ex-husband.

  Confusion ran through me but it was Sydney who broke the short pause.

  “Jordan,” she said from beside me by way of greeting. Her voice was slightly clipped, and I mentally thanked her for that.

  Five years ago, Jordan dropped a bombshell on me, asking for a divorce. He and I had been together for just about ten years. Married for three. Parents for one month.

  And not even three weeks later, he’d been leaving San Diego behind, traded to a Florida club. Rumor had it, he’d asked for the trade back then.

  I just didn’t understand why he was coming back now. Why San Diego was opening their locker
room to him once more.

  When he left, I lost more than my husband. As badly as his family stated they’d always be there for me, in the end, they were there for Rori but…

  It wasn’t easy staying close with your ex-daughter-in-law.

  It wasn’t easy staying close with your ex-family-in-law.

  Even if some of the decision had been mine, it was still hard.

  The only saving grace I had after he left, was the team and their families.

  Jordan may not have been an Enforcer any longer, but the fold I found myself in at twenty-one didn’t push me away. If anything, Sydney and the other wives only drew me closer.

  I stopped going to games, of course; I didn’t have a place in the WAGs—wives and girlfriends—section, but I still hung out with the girls.

  They were my family now, those women and my little lady.

  Not Jordan’s parents.

  Not Jordan’s sisters.

  And certainly not Jordan.

  I had a sick feeling in my gut it was Jordan who talked the kids to come up here, and the thought had me seeing red. Containing it, I crouched back down to my daughter.

  “Why don’t you go with Brody and Brand?” I glanced up at Sydney, not having asked her if she was okay watching my daughter, but she gave me a small smile and an accompanying nod.

  “We can get pizza!” Sydney said, playfully shaking Brielle against her hip, causing the little redhead to giggle madly. Rori jumped up with the boys and after a kiss on the top of her head from me and a ruffle of her blonde hair from Jordan—which sent her into giggles—Sydney and the kids were off.

  Immediately, I stood and crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re in town early.”

  Once upon a time, ‘cold’ was the furthest thing from reality when it came to my words to Jordan. I’d worshipped the ground this man walked on.

  In middle school, he was the first boy to show me any sort of attention. By eighth grade, we were best friends and the step to ‘more’ was easy and flawless. We married young, neither of us twenty yet, but there were surprisingly no naysayers. Everyone in our small Iowa town thought we would last.

  Everyone but Jordan, apparently.

  Jordan, who fought to make it to the NHL.

  Jordan, who quickly became the poster-child of beautiful hockey players, with his piercing green eyes, strong arms, and quick smile.

  Jordan, who decided he wanted more experience than the only girl he’d been with.

  Jordan, who admitted to nearly cheating on me.

  I’d been bitter about our divorce for a long time, but it was when he stopped making an effort to see Rori that really pissed me off.

  “Medical,” Jordan said in way of explanation.

  My eyes dropped, trying to figure out what could possibly have him out and traveling before his due time, but there wasn’t anything immediately obvious.

  “Concussion protocol,” he added, no doubt having sensed my question.

  I nodded upward once, holding on to my annoyance with him. “Why are you here? And how the hell did you find us here?”

  “Prescott. I was hoping to bring Rori with me on my place hunt. She can have a say in her room and whatever.” His words were flippant but his body language was anything but.

  “So, you come and nearly abduct her from an indoor playground?”

  “Let’s not be dramatic.”

  “Oh, let’s not?” I raised my brows and tightened my arms. “Our daughter’s good enough to see, now that you’re back in San Diego, but she wasn’t worth the effort when you were across the country?”

  “Marlo.” Jordan had the audacity to look around. “Not here.”

  “You brought it here, Jordan,” I seethed softly. “I mean, what are you doing here? You have a phone. Better yet, you have our address.” As part of our custody arrangement, we both had to be forthcoming about our whereabouts and living arrangements. “Oh yeah. You never use it.”

  Jordan left the house to me in our divorce settlement but there was no way in hell I was staying there. With the help of Sydney and her husband, Caleb, as well as his brother and teammate, Jonny, I was out of the house within a month of the ink drying.

  “Can I bring her with or not?” His voice was starting to sound irritated, but too damn bad. He came here, unannounced. Rori may have been happy to see him, but I certainly was not.

  Five-year-olds were quick to forgive. Me? Not so much.

  I shook my head and shrugged. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jordan.”

  “She’s my daughter too.”

  “When it’s convenient.” A one-day visit here and there. A FaceTime video chat a little more often.

  “Marlo…” His irritation turned to warning.

  “Look,” I said, not wanting to make it easy for him but knowing what I had to say was some sort of compromise. “I’m sure you know the team is having a family barbeque this weekend. We’ll be there. You can talk to her then.” I turned to leave, but I should have realized my words wouldn’t appease him completely.

  “I have a right to see my daughter.”

  I turned back. He was in the same spot he’d been in, his arms crossed over his broad chest. For a moment, I was nostalgic for that strength to wrap around me. To hold me up in this moment, a moment that I found myself wanting to break when my past crashed to my present. He’d always been my protector. Guarding me from the storms.

  Until the storms were too much for him.

  “And it’s my job to protect her.”

  With that, I left to find Sydney and the kids.

  Jordan

  Being traded wasn’t always a negative thing.

  Sure, sometimes it came at the worst moment. It was the rug being swept out from underneath you. Something you didn’t expect. Some guys got the call in the middle of practice, or worse, right before or after a game.

  But sometimes the trade came at a time you needed it most. Sometimes, a trade brought out the best player in you. You may have lost your jive with your previous team, but suddenly you were playing the best you’d played in years. Usually you kept that newfound youth for a season, maybe two. More, if you really found a team to fit in with.

  Then, there were the rare times that you ended up back in your original locker room.

  And suddenly, it was like the first day of school jitters.

  When I left…

  When I left, I was at the height of my game. My trade was the highest talked about transaction that entire season, because it came out of nowhere. It was unexpected.

  My rookie season had been one for the books, and my sophomore season was only proving to be better. Life got messy though and I thought that leaving would be the best course of action. My agent pulled strings and I found myself in a new locker room, clear on the other side of the country.

  The guy the Enforcers received in the trade was pretty good, but he hadn’t been good enough to be re-signed the next season, and anyone with knowledge of the Enforcers would know that wasn’t a good sign.

  The Enforcers front office held on to players for a damn long time.

  As with most teammates, I had been close with many of my Enforcers teammates—it was the nature of the beast—but after leaving, only one kept in contact, minimal as it was.

  Trevor Winski.

  The problem with that friendship, though, was he was tight with our captain, Caleb Prescott.

  …Whose wife was my ex-wife’s best friend.

  And as badly as it pissed me off at first, Winski would sometimes name drop her.

  I left and changed my life for a reason.

  Marlo didn’t deserve my wandering eyes. She didn’t deserve a man who would possibly cheat on her—a reality that first hit me at Caleb’s wedding, when I found myself in a hotel room with Sydney’s maid of honor, Anna.

  It was just a heated kiss, but it was a moment that scared me shitless.

  What if I hadn’t pulled back?

  What if I hadn’t been hit with reality? />
  If it almost happened, who was to say that someday, some away trip, it wouldn’t happen.

  And Marlo didn’t deserved that. She’d been through too much in the ten years I’d known her. She grew up in a house that was less than ideal, with a drunk for a father and a push-over for a mother. It was a hidden blessing when they died in a car-accident right after we graduated high school, but without me, Marlo had nobody.

  Leaving her hadn’t been easy; not when knowing I was taking everything from her. Knowing that she would have no one. I made sure to financially support her in our settlement, and the child support payments more than kept her and Rori comfortable, but I knew Marlo.

  She was proud and she was stubborn. She didn’t want my money and it was probably all sitting somewhere, gaining interest.

  There was more than Marlo to consider, though. There was our daughter.

  Being on the other side of the country made it extremely difficult to see Rori. She was too little to fly on her own and I couldn’t exactly blame Marlo for turning down my parents’ offers to travel with Rori, or when they opened their guest room for both Marlo and Rori to stay when I came back into our hometown.

  The first time I found out Marlo said no to the offer, I was upset.

  It had been on the heels of the team losing in the Stanley Cup semi-finals. It was the first time in the five months since the divorce, that I missed my wife something-fucking-fierce.

  I stayed in our hometown that summer, needing to get my head on straight. I worked clinics at our high school, helped with the kids’ leagues…anything to keep myself from getting on a plane to San Diego and begging Marlo for her forgiveness.

  Back in Florida the next season, I urged my parents to keep Marlo in their fold. To keep asking her to come over. They knew they were all Marlo had left.

  Enough ‘no, thank yous,’ though, and I stopped asking my parents to offer. Stopped asking them if they talked to her.

  Enough returned cards and unanswered calls, and I was hit with my new reality. Marlo shut that door, and she shut it firmly.

  I learned later that the returned cards were due to a change of address, but it was information I received much later than our settlement allowed for. But what was I going to do? Go after her and hurt her again? I hurt her bad enough for her to completely distance herself from everything she knew.