Awk-Weird (Ice Knights, #2)(66)

Cole took a step forward, and Kahn started toward the opposite end of the cabinets. “It was a joke.”

“Oh yeah?” Christensen kept his position as the kitten approached, hands at the ready to swipe the cat out of midair when it jumped, but his gaze cut to Cole. “So you don’t care if one of us takes it down and trashes it?”

Cole flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but he’d done it. Why? Because he would tear apart whoever touched that damn painting to the fucking bone marrow unless it was Tess.

“Go ahead.” He moved forward, closing the circle of open space around the cat so that he, Petrov, and Christensen formed a tight triangle. “I don’t care.”

Without a word, Petrov broke ranks, turned, and started toward the hall.

Panic shot through Cole with breakaway speed. “Leave it be.”

The center turned, a knowing smirk on his face. “Again, why isn’t she coming back?”

Cole looked from one of the men to the other, his stomach sinking like he’d just caused the mother of all turnovers on the blue line that resulted in an overtime loss. Neither Petrov nor Christensen looked away. There would be no squirming out of this, no brushing them off. They were here to call him on his shit.

He let out a sigh. “I said some stuff. I mean she said stuff first, but…” His words trailed off, the excuse sounding lame even to his own ears. “I told her Marti was coming over to watch me last night because I knew she wanted to go and just needed an excuse to do it because of the concussion. I wasn’t going to have pity keep her here.”

“When did this happen?” Petrov asked, getting back into cat-catching position.

“Last night.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, the tangles making his fingers catch. “Right out of the blue. Everything had been going great.”

“You mean it happened right after she saw you sprawled out on the ice looking like a dead man in skates and pads?” Christensen asked, giving him an are-you-really-that-stupid shake of his head.

“What does that have to do with it?” He was fine. Sure, it had probably looked like he was ready for a pine box, but he’d been alert—for most of it—and he was a little dinged up but otherwise fine.

Petrov inched closer to the cat. “Well, what did she say to you in the locker room?”

“Nothing.” He readied himself as Kahn flicked his tail and surveyed the escape possibilities. “She never came down.”

Christensen snorted. “That’s not what I heard.”

Cole was trying to process that when Kahn made his move, leaping off the wall cabinets with a perfect trajectory for the kitchen island. The cat, however, hadn’t been expecting the quick reflexes of a professional athlete. Cole swiped the cat out of midair, catching him like a puck that had shot up from the ice. Kahn was about as happy at the results as a pissed-off opposing defenseman. Of course, hockey players rarely sank their claws into someone like Kahn did to Cole as soon as he tucked the ticked-off kitty close to his chest.

“Now, can you interfering assholes drop me off at Tess’s place so I can hand over Kahn?” he asked, glaring at the other men.

For once, the pair of them didn’t argue or make any smart remarks. Sure, they gave each other that stupid he’s-a-moron look as if he wasn’t standing right there again, but what the fuck did he care? They hustled out of the house as Kahn’s caterwauling protests echoed in the near-empty hall. He didn’t stop until they were all packed into Petrov’s truck.

“Want us to wait for you there?” Petrov asked as he started the engine.

“Nah.” He grimaced as Kahn found a new place on his arm to play pincushion. “I’ll Uber back.”

“Hoping to swing a little come-home-baby move?” Christensen asked, sounding less like the player he was and more like a guy who had his fingers crossed.

“Not in the least.” The words came out strong and fast, confident, as if he meant them—which he did. Really. Mostly. Almost. “We’re going to be parents together, nothing more. It’s all there ever was.”

And he’d been an asshole to think there ever could be a different outcome.

“As much as I hate to agree with Christensen, I think he’s right,” Petrov said, disgust thick in his tone. “Your brain is broken.”

Kahn sank his claws into a fresh slice of flesh.

“Just shut up and drive before Satan’s fuzziest demon scars me for life,” Cole snarled.

Tess had been more than clear about what she wanted (her cat) and didn’t want (him). Fine. Good. Perfect. He had had enough of his usual routine being messed with, and he was done trying new things. It was past time he went back to being the man he had been before that wedding—and he didn’t need to have his brain bounce against his skull again to figure that out.

…

Tess wasn’t moping. She wasn’t. She was very determinedly staring at the slapdash patching of her ceiling and trying to figure out what to do today, since the flower shop was closed, her friends were with their significant others, and her kitten had abandoned her.

No, she wasn’t thinking about Cole.

She wasn’t wondering how he was feeling, or whether he needed help, or if he just wanted someone to crawl in bed with him and tell him made-up stories about Bigfoot. That kind of thinking would get her nowhere and she knew it. Whenever leaving a house that had been a temporary home, the best thing was just to put it behind her and never think about how it had felt to be part of a real family.