AGAINST THE ICE

Chapter26

IT WAS ALMOST the middle of the night when we got to our hotel in Detroit. I took a shower as soon as I got to my room, but despite feeling overwhelmed, I refused to let myself cry. I felt violated, vulnerable and alone.

I will not cry.

Ashfords do not cry.

I pulled a tank top and a pair of thin pajama bottoms on and studied my reflection in the mirror. A faint bruise was beginning to show on my cheekbone. My appearance was as sad as I felt. Baxter was right. I didn’t belong here. This job was so beyond my skill set, it wasn’t even funny.

A slow knock sounded on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Max.”

I swung the door open. He wore a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt. He stood there, taking in my night attire. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling both vulnerable and exposed beneath his intense observation.

“Can I come in?”

I held the door open wide and watched as he walked into the room. I shut the door after him, wondering why he was here.

He stood there, studying me.

“I wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m okay.”

He stepped closer and tilted my chin up, so he could study my cheek. I struggled to hold onto my emotions in the face of his concern. Light fingertips grazed around the bruise.

My bottom lip trembled.

I shook my head, unable to meet his eyes.

“Don’t, Max.”

“Come here,”

He pulled me against his chest. I felt his big arms wrap around me, making me feel safe and protected. And then I burst into noisy tears.

He moved us to the bed and pulled me onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and wept. All the fear, anger and indignation of the night poured out of me. A big hand rubbed my back while I released all my pent-up stress and emotion. I cried until there were no tears left.

I lifted my wet face from his neck, swiping away the tears with the back of my hand.

“Sorry.”

“Feel better?”

His hand cupped my neck and his thumb rubbed tears from my cheek.

I drowned in his blue gaze.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

I stood up and like that night in North Dakota, he moved to pull back the covers. I climbed in.

He pulled the covers up over me, tucking me in like a child.

“Night.”

I grabbed his large hand.

“Will you please stay with me until I fall asleep?”

What?

I did not understand why those words blurted out of me. I could see the hesitation on his face.

“Please, Max?”

He kicked off his shoes, clicked off the lamp and then I felt him move easily over me to the other side of the bed.

I squeaked when he grabbed me by the waist and hauled me back against his warm chest. I shut my eyes in complete bliss as I snuggled further back against his body.

“Thank you.”

His lips were against my hair.

“Just until you fall asleep.”

A gusty sigh escaped out of me. Never in my life, had I felt more safe, more protected or more cocooned from the world.

“I like you,” I mumbled.

And then sleep claimed me.

When I woke up, he was gone.

---

TWO DAYS after I got home, I sat in another insufferable coaches meeting. I dreaded these meetings. Baxter’s hatred of Max was so plain, it was to the point of being uncomfortable for anyone required to listen to him vent about all of Max’s shortcomings. Most of which Baxter made up.

At the end of the meeting, everyone stood up and gathered their things.

Dad walked into the room.

“Baxter, may I have a word?”

Baxter paused, fear flitting across his face.

“Sure.”

The other coaches filed towards the door with haste. I made quick work of gathering up my papers and almost made it to the door when Dad’s voice rang out.

“Rory, you can stay.”

I stared longingly at the door before shutting the door and turning around.

“Have a seat, Baxter.”

Dad’s voice was deceptively casual.

Baxter sat. Dad leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. I hovered between the table and the door, in no-man's-land.

“Baxter, how do you think the last road trip went?”

Baxter’s eyes widened.

“We won four out of the five games. No major injuries. Despite the small incident in Minnesota, it went well.”

Dad studied the floor and made a noise.

“So, when you knocked my daughter into a crowd of drunk, angry men, and they dragged her body over a fence wanting to tear her from limb to limb, you’d consider that a small incident?”

Baxter’s eyes flitted to mine.

“I consider that everyone got away safe and there were no major injuries, so it was resolved.”

Dad nodded again.

“Twenty-three of my most valuable employees, whom I pay over $96 million dollars’ worth of wages to per year, had to step in and engage in a full-on brawl over that incident.”

Baxter held my gaze. Hatred sparked in his eyes.

“Yes, they did.”

“Did I not talk to you about getting extra security to escort our team out of the building?”

“We had it.”

“Yet, you were the catalyst who pushed Rory into the crowd.”

“This is Logan’s fault.”

Dad tilted his head, his face a mask of calm. I knew Dad. The cooler he appeared on the outside, the more volatile his emotions ran beneath the surface.

“From what I could see on the tape, Logan is the one who stepped forward and saved Rory.”

“I meant, none of this would have transpired if it wasn’t for his sordid past in Minnesota. He’s the reason the fans were so angry and worked up. And furthermore, I think it might warrant adding that we’ve never had a female accompany our team. Historically, we’ve had men who can handle those kinds of situations.”

The bastard!

Dad nodded.

“I see. So, you believe that perhaps Rory’s job would be better suited for a man?”