A Perfect Trade

He tamped down the unwanted desire and scrambled to cover his ass. “I’m not in love with anyone.”

“Come on, Tru. Don’t try to tell me there isn’t unfinished business between you and Jenny.” Her lip curled.

His short laugh was humorless. “What there was between us has been finished for over a decade.” How could it not be, after what he’d done? “We’ve both moved on.”

“Have you?” Her question rang with disbelief.

Jenny sure as hell had. He’d been reminded of that every damn time she’d left the arena with her player of choice. It had taken a while, but he’d moved on, too, even if he’d never learned to ignore her fully.

“There’s nothing left between me and Jenny.” His tone was flat, uncompromising.

“There’s too much emotion between you, for former high school sweethearts.”

If only she knew. He’d never told anyone—not his best friend Jake, nor his brothers—the truth about what had happened with Jenny. “We weren’t exactly sweethearts.” Not quite a lie. Their relationship had barely started before he’d blown it to hell. “We were buddies, played hockey together. We grew apart.”

Melanie shook her head. “I doubt it’s that simple.”

“It is.” It had to be. He changed the subject away from Jenny to one that wasn’t any more comfortable; it too was littered with guilt and betrayal. “I’ve told you before, I’m cautious because I don’t want to make a mistake. Divorce is painful all round.”

“If you believe that’s the only reason you don’t want commitment, then you’re lying to yourself as well as me.” She rose. “I want you to take me home.”

He knew he should try to rescue their relationship, but he couldn’t find the energy. Where was his “fight till you hear the buzzer” mentality? Gone. Like his chances of winning the Stanley Cup this year. He knew which he felt worse about.

“Okay.” He motioned for the waiter to bring the check.

As he paid, Tru wondered what he could have done to make the evening end differently.

His depressing conclusion was nothing. He didn’t question too closely whether he couldn’t think of a solution to the issues they—he—had or he didn’t want to.

The drive to Melanie’s place was tense and silent. There was nothing left to say. After a stilted goodbye, Tru headed to his apartment.

He closed the door and relief filled him. He should be upset. His relationship with Mel had lasted longer than any other. If there was a chance of him having a happily-ever-after with anyone, he’d have thought it would’ve been with her. Yet, now that it was over, he knew this was the right outcome.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to be married. He thought enviously of Jake and his wife, Maggie. Of the obstacles they’d overcome to be together. Of their happiness. Their marriage would last, for sure.

Tru wanted to believe there was someone special out there for him. Unfortunately, it looked as though the odds of finding that person were as slim as him being voted the league’s most valuable player this year.

He pulled an ice pack from the freezer and pressed it to his shoulder, then slumped onto the sofa and flicked on the TV to catch the Kings’ game.

He should forget about relationships and stick to hockey.

It was simpler. You win or you lose, you move on to the next game. On the ice your only commitment was to the logo on the front of your sweater.

Sure he wanted more than his career, but not unless what he felt for the woman was absolutely right. In hockey and in love, second-best didn’t count.

* * *

JENNY DIDN’T KNOW how she made it home. By the time she closed her front door, her body was trembling. Despite the balmy spring evening, she was chilled through.

She should be dancing through the house, yet she couldn’t shake off the gloom that shrouded her, extending its cold, snakelike tendrils deep inside.

Perhaps it was shock. Jenny had been looking over her shoulder for so long, waiting for her uncle to take revenge for leaving and taking Lizzie with her. Even when Lizzie had grown too old to be of interest to Douglas, he’d made sure Jenny knew that he could make their lives miserable if she took one wrong step.

She lit the fire in the living room, made a mug of hot chocolate and curled up in her rocking chair, her parents’ wedding-ring quilt wrapped around her shoulders. She drew comfort from the handmade quilt, as if her parents were hugging her.

The heirloom was the only thing of her parents that Douglas had let her take when she’d left. Jenny hadn’t cared; Lizzie’s safety had been worth more than everything she’d had to leave behind. And a small price to pay for ensuring her uncle would leave them alone.

Not that she’d trusted him to keep his word. But her only leverage against him would have been to tell the truth about what he’d done to her. But that would have destroyed her and, worse, Lizzie would have been wrenched from her care.

Slowly, warmth seeped into her body, relieving the tension that had tightened her muscles. A tiny spark of joy lit deep inside and she allowed it to glow.

The doorbell rang, jolting her out of her reverie. Jenny debated not answering, but her visitor was impatient and leaned on the bell again. Slowly, she rose and went to the door. Checking through the peephole, she was relieved to see her boss’s craggy face.

Harry didn’t say anything when she opened the door, simply enfolded her in his arms and pressed her to his barrel chest. The familiar smell of Old Spice and the cigars he wasn’t supposed to smoke clung to his tweed jacket.

The tears she’d held back spilled over.

“No need for waterworks,” his gravelly voice rumbled beneath her ear as he patted her back awkwardly.

Jenny stepped away and led him to the living room. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

His jaw set. “They’re tears of happiness. We’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but I’ve never been happier to hear of someone’s passing.”

Harry had insisted she tell him her story the first time they met, when he’d rescued her from a shoplifting charge at the local grocery store, not long after she and Lizzie had left their uncle’s house. Surprised a teenager would steal milk and bread, instead of candy or alcohol, he’d paid for her haul and offered to buy her lunch.

She hadn’t trusted Harry’s motives, but with no money and desperate to feed Lizzie, she’d grudgingly accepted his help. It hadn’t taken long for her benefactor—a billionaire with fingers in multiple media pies—to coax the story out of her.

Harry had been shocked. Impressed that she was trying to take care of her sister, he’d promised to help her keep Lizzie. Despite her lack of qualifications, he’d given her a job and helped her find a place to live. He’d also encouraged her to get her GED and to save her money so she could buy this house.

Harry had threatened to expose her uncle, but Jenny, fearful of the fallout that would rebound on her, had begged him not to. He’d agreed reluctantly, but had sworn that if Douglas ever came after her, he would deal with the man himself.

“You didn’t need to come.” Jenny poured him a glass of his favorite malt whiskey. “I’m all right.”

“I can see that.” Harry eased his stocky frame into an armchair by the fire.

“No, really. The news was unexpected. The emotions overwhelmed me, but I’m fine.”

Harry nodded. “Well, now the old bastard’s gone, it’s time to take a good look at your life and decide what you want to do with it.”

“What’s wrong with my life? Thanks to you, I have a great job, a lovely house and a social life most women would envy.”

He arched a gray eyebrow. “You must want more than that. What about marriage, a family? You’re not getting any younger, missy.”

Jenny had abandoned her dream of a husband and children long ago. She carried too much baggage to trust any man. She’d learned the hard way the only person she could rely on was herself. Safety and security were far more important than romance.

“Lizzie only has a couple of years left at college,” she hedged. “Plenty of time to figure things out when she’s done.”

“Bull crap.” He puffed out a breath. “Don’t wait for the right moment to sort yourself out. Otherwise, one day, you’ll turn around and it’ll be too late.”