Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(10)

“Wants to know where your head is at and if you’re coming home,” my mom continues, her disdain for Owen evident.

“And you told him exactly what I told you to tell him, right?” I ask her.

“I did. That I didn’t think you’d be there long and hoped to have you back within a few weeks. He seemed satisfied with that.”

I let out a tiny sound of temporary relief. As long as he stays off my parents’ backs for a while, it will give me time to figure out what to do.

Owen Waller is the biggest mess I’ve ever made of my life. I don’t love him and never did. I did, however, rely on him for reasons that were far more important than my happiness. What started out as a casual dating relationship because he seemed so damned charming at first snowballed into a situation where I didn’t have any way out but to marry him.

“Don’t come back, Gracen,” my mom says quietly but urgently into the phone. “I know you think you are obligated to marry Owen, but you’re not. I promise you you’re not.”

I avoid committing to anything one way or the other. “Well, it’s not something we have to worry about right now. I’m going to worry about Lilly for now, and I’ll deal with the fallout from Owen when I can.”

“Is he contacting you?”

“We’ve chatted via text.” I keep it vague with my mom, as I don’t want her to know the anxiety he’s been causing me. He’s been vacillating between being overly concerned and sweet to practically threatening. Of course he wants me to come back. He still wants to marry me, and he’ll use the leverage he has over me soon enough. He’s texting several times a day, and so far I’ve been keeping him at bay with promises that I need to get the situation with Marek and Lilly resolved before I can come back.

That’s the only thing keeping Owen satisfied right now. He knows Lilly is and always will be my main priority, even over Owen and keeping my parents secure. He knows not to push me too hard on that, but I know there will come a day when he’ll get tired of waiting. I just hope I get my shit straight with Marek before then and have a decent game plan that will get me out of the situation with Owen.

The side door that leads from the laundry room out to the side yard opens, jolting me out of my thoughts. I blink and realize the yard is empty.

I turn just as Lilly runs into the kitchen. “Look, Mommy. I picked you some flowers.”

Lilly holds out a fistful of dandelions in her tiny hand. My heart melts, as it’s often prone to do anytime Lilly is around me. I couldn’t have asked for a sweeter, more thoughtful child if I’d tried.

“Those are gorgeous, Lilly,” I tell her as I squat down in front of her. I pull her in for a quick hug and she nuzzles into my neck. God, I love that.

My eyes catch on Marek walking into the kitchen. His expression is neutral as he watches our interchange.

When I pull away, I take the flowers. “Let’s put them in a glass with some water.”

“Okay, Mommy,” she says brightly, and follows me to the sink. “I picked them, but Marek showed them to me.”

I reach a hand out and touch Lilly’s cheek. “How about you call him Daddy or Dad? Okay? It’s nicer than calling him by his first name.”

“Okay,” she chirps in an overly agreeable voice. “I like Daddy better. Sounds like Mommy.”

Turning slightly, I look at Marek. Again, his face is inscrutable as he stares at Lilly. But then she turns to look at him, and he instantly slides a smile on and levels it straight at her.

“I like Daddy,” he tells her, his voice a little gruff. “Has a nice ring to it.”

Lilly puts a finger to her mouth and lowers her eyes shyly. She’s a people pleaser, but sometimes doesn’t know how to handle praise. It’s because she never does something just for affirmation in return. She’s just a sweet kid who likes to do and say nice things.

Ruffling Lilly’s hair, I turn to grab a small glass from the cupboard. “I’m going to make a pie, Lilly Bug. Want to help me?”

“I do, I do,” she says exuberantly. Every Sunday she would always help my mom make dessert, and now it looks like that tradition will carry on with me for the time being.

After I fill the glass with water and add the pathetic little yellow flowers—probably the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever received—I take Lilly by the hand. “Let’s go upstairs and get washed up first.”

As we walk past Marek, I tell him, “The ham will be ready in about an hour.”

He stares at me a moment, his handsome face once again a mask of nothingness. No clue what he’s thinking.

I wait for perhaps a grateful smile that I cooked, or even an acknowledgment that he appreciates my gentle reminder to Lilly that he is more than just Marek to her now.

Instead, his eyes turn aloof and icy. “I’m actually headed out to a Labor Day party at a teammate’s house.”

The words are ambiguous, but his tone is not. He’s giving me a pointed reminder that I’m nothing more to him than a houseguest taking up some space. I tense up, ashamed of myself that I could possibly think that things might have warmed slightly between us given that we now have a common bond and goal with Lilly.

“No problem,” I say lightly as I turn away from him, taking Lilly gently by the shoulders and pushing her toward the staircase.