12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart Page 6

  The Seattle Sockeyes were hanging on by a thread against the Canucks with only a few minutes left in the third period. The new hockey season brought great hope to the team for a coveted playoff spot. While way too early in the season to tell, all signs were good.

  Blake streaked down the ice and cut in front of an opposing player driving to the net, effectively blocking the man’s shot. Only the guy kept coming, fully intent on plowing through Blake. The next few seconds happened in slow motion. The two men crashed into each other and slammed to the ice in a tangle of limbs, skates, and sticks. The Canuck player shot to his feet first, and Blake followed only to collapse in a writhing heap on the ice. He attempted a few more times to rise, but his left leg wouldn’t hold weight and down he went.

  Play was stopped. His teammates gathered round, concerned expressions on their faces, as they blocked the cameras from showing their fallen comrade.

  Sarah rose to her feet, moved closer to the TV and desperately tried to catch a glimpse of Blake, but his teammates purposely stayed in the way. She caught glimpses of his body and could tell he was rolling around on the ice in agony.

  The TV flashed back to the moment of impact, showing every gory detail in slow motion. As the other player fell on him, his skate bent at an unnatural angle as if he’d broken something. Such a major injury would take him out of the game for a majority of the season and possibly end his career. At his age, he’d be hard-pressed to get back in game shape, especially with the younger guys already biting at his heels.

  Sarah immediately wanted to go to him, only she couldn’t. They were broken up, thanks to her, and she hadn’t spoken to him in months. A clean break, that’s what she’d insisted on. Now she wished she hadn’t. A small, selfish part of her prayed he’d come home to her and retire from hockey. He could spend the rest of his life on this island.

  Doing what?

  The reality was the same now as it’d been early in the summer. He wouldn’t be coming back. There was no future on this island for him, despite her being here.

  They were over, and no amount of hoping and praying would change that brutal fact.

  Chapter 2

  Taking a Break

  Blake Daniels sat outside the conference room waiting for his meeting with the Sockeyes brass, certain he knew what was up. He’d been off the ice for two months, replaced by a younger, faster version of himself. He wouldn’t be coming back to the team in a playing capacity, but he suspected they’d offer him a different job.

  This team took care of its own. Ethan Parker, the majority owner, wouldn’t set him adrift without giving him options, especially with Christmas less than two weeks away. Only Blake didn’t know if he’d like any of those options, nor did he want to be the team charity case because everyone felt sorry for the guy whose life and career had been marred by a string of bad-luck injuries and unprecedented personal tragedy.

  For the last two months, he’d grappled with healing his broken leg, trying to stay in shape the best he could, and rushing his rehab. Only nothing was going as planned. He wasn’t healing as quickly as he’d hoped. He wore a walking cast on his leg, which allowed him to get around more easily, but he wouldn’t be skating any time soon. While he could work on upper body strength, his lower body was wasting away—or so he felt.

  As much as he attempted to remain positive, these past five years his life body-slammed him to the ground every time he tried to get back up, starting with the death of his entire family in a floatplane crash on Christmas Eve five years ago.

  After meeting Sarah, the love of his life, last Christmas Eve, he’d thought his life had finally turned a corner, and things were looking up. She, too, was an orphan so to speak, an only child whose parents were both dead.

  Then the Sockeyes had come calling, needing a defenseman to replace an injured player. Newly cut from his last team, Blake had jumped at the chance to return to the ice for one final season. Only it hadn’t been final. The Sockeyes offered him a one-year contract at the end of last season. He’d talked it over with Sarah. She’d insisted he sign, and next thing he knew, he’d been plus a team and minus a girlfriend. Not exactly how he’d planned things to work out.

  He understood Sarah’s position. They’d fallen hard and fast for each other, but circumstances didn’t bode well for their future. His future had been hockey because that’s all he knew, while hers had been dedicated to her veterinary practice on Madrona Island, a practice she’d taken over from her father. As a life-long resident and the island’s only veterinarian, she took her job seriously and was committed to the community and the animals. She would never move, while he didn’t have a life on that island. They parted amicably, admitting their relationship couldn’t possibly work out, leaving Blake with nothing except hockey. And now it appeared he didn’t have hockey.

  He glanced up as Ethan peeked his head out the door and waved him inside. Blake gingerly took a seat at the conference table and smiled grimly at the people seated around it, including Ethan’s fiancé Lauren Schneider, the director of player personnel; Garret Calhoun, the general manager; Mike Gorst, the head coach; and Cooper Black, the team captain.

  They smiled back at him as if everything was wonderful when Blake knew it wasn’t even close.

  Ethan sat back, letting Garrett do the talking while Ethan observed Blake’s reactions.

  “Blake, what are your plans?” Garrett asked.

  “I—uh—” Fuck if he knew. He wanted to play, as unrealistic as that particular want might be. “I’m working hard to rehab, but I’ve had some setbacks.”

  “Have you considered hanging up the skates and taking on a support role such as coaching?”

  Blake shook his head. The team was putting him out to pasture as gently as possible, but nothing could be gentle about the demise of his career, even though common sense practically screamed in his ears that he was old for a defenseman. They’d already replaced him and never missed a beat.

  His career was over. Blake wasn’t going back on the ice as an NHL skater. The sooner he pounded the cold hard facts into his thick skull, the better.

  “Blake,” Coach Gorst said gently for him. “Your playing days are over, but the team sees great value in your knowledge of hockey, the patience you’ve shown with the younger guys, and your work ethic.”

  Ethan jumped in. “We want you to be part of the Sockeye family for years to come. Coaching is perfect for your skill set.”

  “I hadn’t thought about coaching,” Blake admitted, knowing he’d been in denial too long.

  “We don’t expect a decision right away,” Lauren added. “In fact, we’re willing to work with your timeframe. If you’d like to start tomorrow, we’re good with that. If you want to wait a few months, that’s good, too.”

  Damn, they were bending over backward for him, and Blake felt ungrateful. Their coaching suggestion didn’t appeal to him. He wanted to play hockey, despite how improbable that particular want might be.

  Without Sarah, hockey was all he had, and a life without both looked pretty bleak. He’d most likely take the Sockeyes up on their offer eventually. What better option did he have? He needed time and space to absorb the reality of his situation.

  They all looked at him expectantly, waiting for his answer. “I appreciate your offers. I need time to mull this over, and I’ll be in touch.”

  “Take all the time you need,” said Ethan, while Lauren and the others nodded. He hated the sympathy in their eyes, even if it was well-intended.

  Blake nodded and stood, ready to get this meeting over with. The group stood as well, and he shook their hands and hurried out the door to the parking lot. A fine sheet of rain was falling. The grey Seattle skies reflected his mood. As he opened his SUV door, a shadow crossed over him. He spun around as best he could in the cast.

  “Oh, fuck, it’s just you.”

  His buddy, Isaac “Ice” Wolfe, stepped from behind a car.

  “What the hell are you doing lurking in the bushes like a stalke
r? Keep that up and someone will blow your brains out.”

  Isaac chuckled, not the least concerned by Blake’s response. “How’d it go in there?” he asked.

  “Like expected. They’re hanging up my skates.”

  Isaac nodded, acknowledging the death of Blake’s career with a wry smile. “Sorry about that, buddy.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  “What’re you going to do?”

  “They asked me to coach and issued an open invitation to decide when the time feels right.”

  “I see. This couldn’t have come as a surprise so you must’ve given it some thought.”

  “Yeah, but I’m no closer to making a decision than I was a year ago when my career was dead the first time around.” Blake stared at his cast, as if it were personally to blame for his current woes.

  “You have to give them credit. They take care of their own.”

  “Yeah.” Now if Blake could only figure out how to take care of himself. “I’m going off the grid for a week or so, figure out what to next.”

  Isaac nodded. “I wanted to invite you to join the family for Christmas.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll be on the island, chilling and getting my head on straight.”

  “The offer stands if you change your mind.”

  “I know, I appreciate that.”

  Isaac’s ice blue eyes cut through the bullshit, and Blake was pretty damn sure his friend saw him for the mess he was. With a grim nod, Isaac reached out and shocked Blake with a bro hug.

  “Take care of yourself.” Shaking his hand, Isaac left Blake alone in the parking lot with nothing but his broken dreams and an uncertain future, both of which were piss-poor company.

  Chapter 3

  On Ice

  Sarah locked the clinic door for the night, stepping outside into a fine mist. Cyrus, her St. Bernard cross, followed her to Jeep. She opened the back hatch, and he jumped in, tail wagging, and more than ready to go home. Only they weren’t going home. They were going to a Christmas party at the home of Sarah’s good friends, Mandy and Brody Jenson. They owned and operated a beautiful bed and breakfast on Fiddler’s Cove, which they’d officially opened for business a few months ago.

  This was their first Christmas party together at the B&B, and as much as Sarah would like to go home and cuddle up with a good book, she didn’t dare miss it. Mandy would be horribly disappointed, Janna, her office manager and good friend, would fret, and several other friends would most likely form a posse and track her down. No, not worth the hassle. She’d make an appearance and leave early.

  By Saturday night, Sarah was usually too exhausted to do anything but go home. This Saturday night was no exception. Many of the part-time residents came to the island for the holidays, and she swore if they had a pet, she’d seen that pet in her clinic. Not that she was complaining about her booming business, but it did play hell with her social life—such as it was.

  She drove the short distance down the winding country road that hugged the edge of the island. Sarah forced herself to stare straight ahead when she passed the driveway to Blake’s vacation home. She didn’t want to see if lights were visible through the trees. Most likely he was in Seattle doing what he could to return to the game he loved.

  Janna met her and Cyrus at the door with a warm hug. “You came? I was so afraid you’d chicken out.”

  “I wanted to,” Sarah admitted. Cyrus slipped past her into the house he’d been in many times before to most likely lay down in front of the blazing fire.

  When something akin to guilt flashed in Janna’s eyes, she studied her closely. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Janna answered with a suspiciously innocent smile.

  “Something is going on. What are you keeping from me?” Sarah leaned to peer past her friend into the warm, welcoming parlor but didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary. For a split second she’d feared Blake might be there. He wasn’t, and she deflated, as if she wished he were there. Of course he wasn’t. Even if he was on the island, why would he be here of all places?

  Before Janna could respond, Mandy appeared, handing Sara a hot-buttered rum and guiding her into the living area where the party was already going full swing. The last time Sarah had a hot-buttered rum had been last Christmas Eve with Blake. A mixture of relief and sadness filtered through her, but she pasted a fake smile on her face and entered the joyous room. Mandy’s friends and family were gathered in large and small groups, laughing and talking. A table in the corner held an impressive spread of delectable dishes. Christmas music played in the background, and a huge tree laden with ornaments claimed one corner of the large room.

  The earlier mist had given way to a starry night. Outside, several other guests crowded around a large fire pit blazing as merrily as the fireplace inside the house.

  Sarah took a seat on the couch between a few of the guests, long-time island residents she knew quite well.

  “Blake Daniels is on the island,” said Eva, the island psychic, as she cast a pointed glance in Sarah’s direction.

  “He is?” Sarah knew her face must have gone pale. Her mouth certainly went dry, and her stomach did a great imitation of an unbalanced high-wire walker.

  Mandy shot a guilty look in Sarah’s direction and a chastising one in Eva’s, but the exotic woman didn’t bat an eye.

  “You didn’t invite him, did you?” Sarah glanced first at Mandy then at Janna fidgeting near the doorway. Mandy looked to Janna with a shrug. “Janna?”

  Janna smiled apologetically. “I might’ve run into him at the grocery store earlier today and extended an invitation. I’m sure he won’t show. He didn’t sound interested. I just hate the idea of him being alone during the holidays.” When Janna got nervous she talked a hundred miles an hour, just as she was doing now.

  “It was a mercy invitation,” she added.

  Sarah smiled, trying to process Blake being on the island. “It’s okay. I don’t care if he shows up or not. We parted friends. What we had last winter was just a holiday fling,” Sarah lied, not fooling anyone. They were her friends. They’d seen the aftermath of the break up and helped her pick up the pieces and move on. Their pitying looks were enough to make Sarah run for the nearest door, but party-goers blocked all the exits. She wouldn’t be able to sneak out unnoticed. She’d bide her time and disappear as soon as the opening presented itself.

  In the meantime, she sipped her drink and faked interest in whatever conversation buzzed around her, not that she had a clue because her mind was a million miles away—actually a lot closer. More like a few miles down the road.

  With Blake.

  * * *

  A wild-assed hair had found its way up Blake’s butt and convinced him to go out on a Saturday night to a Christmas party hosted by people he barely knew. The closer he drove to the party, the more reluctant he was, yet he kept driving rather than turning around, drawn by some invisible thread that insisted he be there tonight instead of at home licking his considerable wounds.

  He knew why he was going against his better judgement. Janna had mentioned Sarah was invited. So, yeah, he wanted to see her again. He couldn’t help it, even if doing so wasn’t a good idea or fair to either of them given the career decisions they’d made.

  Blake pulled down the long driveway. Cars were parked on either side of the road, so he parked behind the last one and got out. He limped to the B&B, both relieved and sad Sarah’s pickup wasn’t in the driveway or B&B parking area.

  He’d arrived on the island yesterday, and already everything reminded him of Sarah. He guessed that was progress because before her everything on this island reminded him of the family he’d lost and all the good memories they’d made on this island since his childhood.

  Grabbing the lasagna he’d concocted from one of his mother’s many recipes, he steeled himself for all the smells, sights, and sounds of Christmas and hobbled up the steps to the front door. He knocked, but judging by the noise inside, no one could possibly
hear him. Setting the hot dish down on a bench, he pushed open the door, ready to face the revelers and attempt to have a reasonably good time.

  Before he could retrieve his dish, she barreled into him. He caught glimpse of brown hair in a ponytail before the escapee ran into his chest head first. She was glancing over her shoulder as if the devil himself was on her heels.

  “Hey, slow down,” he said as he steadied himself and her, glad she hadn’t knocked him down. His heart knew it was Sarah before his head did.

  She stared up at him, her beautiful face registering shock. “Blake?” She blinked several times as if she didn’t trust her eyesight.

  “Sarah,” he responded, keeping his voice deadpan even as his entire body welcomed her.

  “Oh, no, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She grasped his arms, her fingers curling around his biceps.

  “I’m okay.” He shook his head. She hadn’t hurt him physically even though he felt inside as if she had.

  “But, your leg—” Her gazed dropped to his walking cast.

  “Nah, I’m fine. Where were you going in such a hurry? Is the party that much of a bust that you’re running like hell to escape?”

  “I, uh, no, I,” she seemed at a loss for words.

  “Good, then, let’s go inside.” He waited for her to remove her hands off his arms. She didn’t. The woman had a damn-good grip. Suddenly realizing she’d been hanging onto him, she threw her hands up in the air and backed away, as if he were armed and dangerous. Her confusion amused him. Obviously, his appearance affected her as much as hers did him. He picked up the casserole, grateful his hands didn’t shake. Cyrus sat in the doorway watching them. He wagged his tail at Blake, and with a heavy sigh retreated back inside.