So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(60)

“Well, here’s my secret.” She leaned in, those green eyes they all shared sparkling. “Remy plans to retire at the end of the season and he’ll be staying home to change the diapers. It’s all he’s ever wanted since he was a little girl.”

Isobel felt a pang in her heart. How wonderful to have found someone so willing to step up to the plate like that. “That’s pretty hot.”

Violet clearly didn’t want to agree, but how could she not? “Remy with the BabyBj?rn? Yeah, hotness at ovary-exploding levels.”

“So we have to start looking for another center,” Isobel mused.

Vi thumbed in her direction. “Always the team with this one.”

“We have to make the play-offs first,” Isobel said. “Twelve games to go, and with the way the standings are now, we need at least eight points to be assured of the wild card.”

Harper set her chin. “Ten points would be better, so we can straight up qualify and don’t even have to consider wild card. You think Petrov has it in him?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally? This business with his mom is distracting him.” Isobel had filled them both in on the latest Petrov drama. The news of how Mia and Vadim were related was also prompting questions, and Rebels’ PR was currently whipping up a statement for the media.

“What about this business with his coach?” Harper asked after taking a sip of her wine. “Is that distracting him?”

Isobel stiffened. After Vadim’s overreaction to her tryout news, there would be no returning to that well. Could the bastard be even a little bit pleased for her? Oh no. Heaven forbid anyone else draw focus from the mighty Vadim Petrov.

“We’re not—I mean, we did but—” She held up her hands. “We had some unfinished business from years ago and now it’s all tied up. The itch has been scratched.”

“Multiple times, I hope?” Violet asked, and when Isobel laughed her agreement, her younger sister nodded. “That’s my girl. So proud.”

“Hmm.”

Isobel hated when Harper did that. “Don’t, okay?”

“What? Remind you that itches have an annoying habit of staying, y’know, itchy? That’s what I said about Remy, and we all know how that turned out.”

As if there were any comparison. “Remy’s not like other hockey players. He’s not hanging at clubs. He’s not signing bare tits at the Empty Net. Not once have I seen him look at a puck bunny since he was traded in. The man has only ever had eyes for you.”

“Yeah, the minute he laid those Cajun peepers on you,” Violet chimed in, “he was all, ‘Me Remy, you Remy’s baby mama. Take my seed. Take it all!’?”

Harper’s smugness wasn’t annoying at all. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m so not what he had in mind for his future, but once I figured out what I needed, I realized that Remy was the one. You know how you wake up, and you can’t remember what you were dreaming about? It’s there, just out of reach, so close but so far. I think I was dreaming about Remy all along. Then one day I woke up, the dream sharpened, and it all fell into place.”

That was strangely poetic from the usually plain-speaking Harper. Even Violet looked affected.

On the subject of dreams, a curious memory returned to gnaw at Isobel. Wake up, Bella. I am here—the words she’d thought she heard while she napped in Vadim’s arms and gave him a sleepy hand job. It was like something in a reverie, just like those brief moments when she and Vadim appeared to be on the same page.

Harper sipped her wine. “You’re right, though. Remy’s about as far from Cliff as any man could be.”

The weight of that statement loomed over Isobel’s head like a heavy object waiting to fall.

“Well, you won’t catch me falling for a hockey player,” she said defensively. “I’m not going to be that woman, waiting around, knowing he’s—just knowing.”

She caught Harper’s eye, expecting judgment, but saw only compassion. They had both experienced their father’s failures as a parent in different ways. Clifford thought Harper too weak to run the team and Isobel too strong to be wasting her time on coaching. Hockey’s not for pussies, Izzy. Only this year had the sisters found common ground, and ironically, it was Clifford Chase’s last will and testament that had forced them into a new understanding of what the other had suffered.

Violet, who had never met him, was definitely more circumspect on the subject of Clifford. And by circumspect, Isobel meant completely silent.

The youngest Chase poured more wine. “Things seem to be looking up, for sure. The team’s on a winning streak. Harper’s managed to snag a guy who actually wants to be a stay-at-home hottie. And now that Isobel’s hit it and quit it with Petrov, it means you won’t have to worry about conflicts of interest when you become a full-time coach.”

Right, when she became a full-time coach, the great compromise. As much as she enjoyed it, it didn’t fill her heart to overflowing like actual professional play and competition.

Don’t be a pussy, Izzy.

Should she tell them about the tryout? After Vadim’s overreaction—ooh, the man was impossible—sharing didn’t seem like such a good idea. They’d only fret.

She picked up the remote. “Enough chitchat. Let’s get lost in the glories of Swayze and the merengue.”