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  “Madam?” Zane intoned, gesturing grandly to the table he’d set the tray on. “May I help you with your chair?”

  Mara rolled her eyes with a laugh and moved to the seat. “Oh, why not?”

  He performed his role with perfection, sliding her chair out and pushing it in with impeccable timing. He stooped behind her and pressed a surprisingly heated kiss just beneath her right ear, making her jump and shiver in the same breath and bite back a moan on the next.

  RUSH! her inner voice screamed desperately, and her hormones applauded the idea.

  Zane sat in his own chair across from her and winked, clearly knowing exactly what he’d just done to her.

  “Not nice,” Mara scolded, digging into her salad.

  “I don’t know, I thought it was very nice.” He shrugged as he cut into his roast beef. “So. Chicago.”

  Mara gave him a look, chewing quickly. “I need to think about it. Taking a trip together this soon seems fast.”

  He nodded at that. “I can see that, sure. But this is a trip I’m already taking, and Hope is coming too. We might celebrate her birthday while we’re there, and now that we are what we are . . .”

  That made her smile, wondering just what he thought they were. She cocked her head, eyes narrowing.

  One of his feet pressed down on her toes beneath the table, and she almost hiccupped on her next bite of salad. “I just think it would be more fun with you there,” he finished in the same simple tone as before.

  Mara considered that, her fork fiddling around with more salad. “How formal is the event?”

  “Not very. I’ll be in a suit, and I think the guys will too, but like a casual suit. Church-barbecue suit, not wedding suit.”

  “When was the last time you were at a church barbecue?” Mara laughed, clapping her hands once as she sat back against her chair. “Oh lands, Zane . . .”

  His foot pressed down against hers with a steadily increasing force. “I love your laugh,” he murmured, his eyes on her mouth. “Such a great sound. We need more of that in our lives.”

  “Laughter?” That surprised her; Hope was constantly laughing, and Zane had one of the best senses of humor she’d found in a guy. They were happy together, and they laughed together.

  What more could they want?

  Zane shook his head slowly. “Your laughter, babe. You have no idea what it feels like to hear it.” He reached out and took her hand across the table, his thumb rubbing over the surface of her skin in a tantalizing way. “Think about Chicago, okay? No pressure, it’s not make or break, I would just really love for you to come. See where I learned to skate. Meet the guys. Meet my insane family, if you can handle that much.”

  There was no helping the snickering at that, especially considering the fond smile he wore in conjunction with eyes wide with meaning.

  Why couldn’t she just leap? What was stopping her from tossing it all to the wind and going with this fun, gorgeous, caring, remarkably normal-acting guy to his hometown?

  “And it would make Hope’s birthday,” he added, his thumb still brushing her skin. “She’s already told me you’re invited to her birthday. The whole day. Whatever we do.”

  Mara groaned and made a face. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

  “I’m not making it up, but I won’t pretend I wouldn’t love it too.” He winked again and released her tingling hand. “Hope seriously thinks you’re the greatest.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” Mara smiled at him, then brightened. “Hey! You have a game tomorrow, and Hope said she’s never seen you play for real. I could bring her. No one would know she’s yours, and she’d get the fun experience of watching her daddy do his thing!”

  Zane didn’t really react, but his eyes stayed on her, his smile remaining small.

  “Is that a terrible idea?” Mara asked, her nose wrinkling. “It’s a terrible idea, huh? You don’t want her exposed to all that, and it’s probably too loud and crazy, and way past her bedtime . . .”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Zane interrupted softly.

  “You do?”

  He nodded, the motion slow and somehow full of heat. “I love that you thought of it. Thought of her. Want to do it. I love it, Mara. More than that, I think Hope will love it.”

  Mara smiled almost shyly, her cheeks heating. “You do?” she asked again.

  He reached for her hand again, this time lacing their fingers together. “Yeah. I do.”

  There was something magical about holding his hand, and there weren’t really words for it.

  There didn’t need to be.

  Mara sighed and looked at a clock on the wall. “Yikes. Twenty more minutes, and then I need to get back.”

  “Tell Susan you won me over.”

  “You want me to lie to my office lead?” Mara laughed.

  “Not a lie,” Zane told her, his fingers brushing against hers. “You have. Completely.”

  Mara gave him a look. “Zane. Do you want me to be able to focus at all the rest of the day?”

  “Not really, no.”

  The casual admission made her snort a laugh, which sent them both laughing, and the next twenty minutes went by much faster than either of them wanted.

  “Yes, Hopey, it is okay if you have french fries tonight. You are going to have so much fun with Mara tonight.”

  “I know that, silly,” Hope giggled through the phone. “Mara is the bestest person ever.”

  Zane laughed at the conviction in his daughter’s voice as he got out of his SUV. “She’s pretty special, huh?”

  “The specialest. Will you wave at me tonight, Daddy?”

  “You bet, pumpkin. Watch for the signal, okay?”

  “Okay. Bye, Daddy. Have a good show.”

  Zane chuckled again and nodded. “Always do. Bye, Dopey.” Shaking his head, he slid his phone into his back pocket. He hefted his bag over his shoulder and started towards the arena, only to feel a buzzing in his pocket.

  He grinned, wondering what Hope had forgotten to ask him now, and reached back to retrieve the phone. One look at the screen wiped the smile from his face.

  Michelle.

  He exhaled slowly before hitting the answer button. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Zane.”

  It was astonishing how unchanged her voice was after all this time and all they had been through. He remembered when the sound of it could make him smile and feel at home.

  It hadn’t had that effect in a long time.

  Now it only tightened his stomach and made him grouchy. “Michelle.”

  “I’ve been calling.”

  “I know,” he clipped with a nod. “No messages, so I didn’t see a need to call back.”

  There was a sigh from the other end of the line. “Fair enough. You have a minute?”

  “Not really,” he replied. He nodded at the security guy at the players’ entrance as he walked through, and turned down the corridor towards the locker room. “We have a game tonight, I just got to the arena.”

  “Then you do have a minute. I remember how early you like to get there.”

  Her tone turned warm, almost fond when she said that, and it sent a shiver of awareness up his spine, his hair standing on end. “What do you want, Michelle? We called you three months ago for your birthday, and you sent us to voicemail.”

  “My phone was off.”

  “It rang twice and then went,” Zane shot back, forcing a harsh exhale in the hopes it would contain his temper. “That’s an intentional send.”

  “Okay, so I didn’t want to take the call,” Michelle admitted, surprising him. “I was partying with my friends on my birthday.”

  Zane nodded and leaned against the wall outside of the locker room. “Figured. So what do you want?”

  She hesitated, but nothing about that hesitation would raise Zane’s curiosity. There were no visits coming up, nothing for Michelle to complain about, and no one was expecting her to call or send a card for Hope’s birthday next week. She had shown t
he quality of her parenting a long time ago.

  “I want to terminate my parental rights.”

  For a full three heartbeats, Zane’s heart didn’t, in fact, beat. He blinked once, the pressure of the wall at his back the only thing keeping him upright. Michelle was a lousy co-parent, but he had always assumed it was a phase and that someday she would grow up and see what she had.

  He hadn’t expected this.

  Ever.

  “Michelle,” he managed harshly, “there’s no coming back from that. Once it’s done, it’s done. You know that, right?”

  “Of course I know that, did you think I would go into this without talking with my lawyer?” The spite he had expected her voice to hold was finally evident, and it raised his hackles.

  “How is Greg?” Zane asked with a sneer. “Did he get that divorce you claimed you wanted?”

  He could almost hear her snarl. “Don’t be petty. Greg isn’t my lawyer anymore, and you have no right to accuse me of anything. I don’t claim alimony anymore, and I pay child support.”

  Zane barked a hard laugh. “Thirty bucks when you remember isn’t child support. You’re lucky I haven’t sent the courts after you. I’m surprised your new lawyer hasn’t instructed you to fix that yet.”

  “The point is, Zane,” Michelle replied without replying, “that I can’t file for termination without someone to step in as a mother figure for the kid on a permanent basis. Illinois frowns on leaving a child without two parents.”

  “Imagine that. And her name is Hope, remember?” He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head, his eyes tracing over the rivets and bolts there without real interest. “So I need to get remarried for you to get what you want.”

  “Pretty much. But if I show a pattern of neglect, they may find me in contempt and grant a temporary stay of visitation.”

  Zane exhaled a snort, closing his eyes. “That’s supposed to be disciplinary, Michelle, not a guideline.”

  “Look, you want me out of her life, and I want out of her life. This is a win-win.”

  “You listen to me,” Zane snarled, his eyes popping open, turning so his back would face any incoming teammates. “I have never wanted you out of Hope’s life. Ever. I have bent over backwards to keep you in it. The only reason I have not shown up at your front door with Hope at my side is that you keep moving and I don’t know where you are.”

  “It’s better that way,” Michelle assured him. “I’m not a mom.”

  “Not wanting to be a mom is not the same as erasing being a mom.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Nothing about my baby girl losing her mom is a win, okay?”

  He heard Michelle sigh, and he heard the finality in it. “I’m not her mom, Zane. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I gave birth to her, and that is all. I’m sorry, but I want out. Completely.”

  Zane’s throat clenched, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

  “And can you tell my dad to stop visiting?” she went on. “It’s really awkward for me.”

  “I’m not telling your dad a damn thing,” Zane informed her. “He is more than welcome in her life. If you want him to be out too, you can tell him.”

  “Fine. I’ll call him next.”

  Zane swore softly, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment. Swallowing hard, he shook his head. “Please don’t do this,” he begged. “Please.”

  “It’s done,” she said softly. “I’ve already filed my intentions on the off chance I find a sympathetic judge.”

  “Sympathetic to child abandonment?” Zane snapped. “Not a chance.”

  “I want a new life, Zane. A free life.”

  “You’ve already made it new and free.”

  “I know. You and the kid are the last shackles holding me back.”

  Zane turned and banged a fist against the cement wall, every muscle in his body tensing. “Shackles,” he repeated. “Our daughter is a shackle to you. How can you say that?”

  “Leave it alone, Zane. As soon as conditions are right, I’m taking you to court and ending this once and for all. And please stop having her call me. I won’t answer.”

  “Her name is Hope,” Zane ground out, his fist thumping the wall softly as the tension in his chest turned vicelike. “Why can’t you even say her name? What is wrong with you?”

  “Goodbye, Zane. My lawyer will be in touch.”

  There was silence as the call ended, and it was all Zane could do to avoid attempting to crush the phone in his hand.

  How could she? How could she?

  He unclenched his hand from his phone and put it back in his pocket with careful motions. Pushing off the wall, he moved further down the hall, leaving his bag where it was, and continued moving until he found an open storage room. He let himself in, glancing around at the out-of-date practice gear and metal chairs in the early stages of rusting.

  Perfect.

  With a roar of rage and indignation, Zane picked up the nearest chair, throwing it across the room. He kicked at piles of shoulder and chest pads, picked up two warped hockey sticks and beat them against the floor until they broke, and slammed another chair against the wall so many times his ears began to ring. He dropped the chair to the floor with a clatter of sound and stared around at the destruction, though he hadn’t done as much as he wanted.

  Sanity poked at his rage, reminding him that there was a game coming up and he needed to be careful.

  Opportunity chimed in that he was an enforcer on the ice and hitting people was his job.

  Satisfaction grinned maliciously and turned Zane on his heel, striding out of the closet.

  Three of his teammates stood at the locker room door, wide-eyed and staring at him as he came towards them.

  “You okay in there, Z?” Avery asked, the headphones around his neck blaring music.

  Zane nodded, the energy within him coiling and building further still. “Letting off steam before we hit the ice.”

  Ramsey raised a brow. “Not saving it for the ice?”

  “Gotta get rid of some,” Zane explained with a grim smile, “or I won’t be on the ice that long at all.”

  Javvy grinned at him, nodding in appreciation. “Gonna light ’em up today, huh?”

  “Oh yeah.” Zane picked up his bag and followed the trio into the locker room. “Big time.”

  Less than an hour later, he was out on the ice with his team, warming up for the game and letting the feel of the ice beneath his blades fill him with a sense of certainty and confidence. He circled their zone again and again, shifting to skate backwards a few times without any dramatic flair that he might have added at any other time. Tonight wasn’t about drama or a show. It was about lighting up the enemy and making them pay.

  At the moment, in lieu of the real target of his anger, the enemy was the Carolina Cyclones.

  Anybody would understand that, under the circumstances. The Pit certainly would. He’d texted them with very brief details the moment he’d gone into the locker room, and their responses were epic.

  Trane: [insert many colorful profanities I’m saying out loud]

  Rocco: What he said.

  Clint: There is a very special circle of hell for some people.

  Dice: That’s ridiculous. I mean absolutely ridiculous. Who needs her? We’re Hope’s family now.

  Every single one of them had liked that comment, and Zane would freely admit to being choked up at it.

  Then Jax had capped it all.

  Jax: Her birthday is Saturday, right? Let’s give her a party. After the Northbrook thing, it’s Hope’s night. Can we break her curfew, Dad?

  He’d had to go out to the ice after that, but he knew he’d have a ton of messages waiting for him.

  Hope had an army at her back. There was some consolation in that.

  He craned his neck from side to side, avoiding his usual pregame antics with his teammates as well. He took a few shots on goal, shuffled the puck around with a couple of players, but for the most part said nothing. He needed t
he fury within him to remain contained but lose none of its intensity. He needed to harness it in preparation for the right moments.

  He needed to be Zamboni tonight in every respect.

  “Javvy says you’re on fire already,” Shap said as he suddenly appeared at Zane’s side.

  He only grunted in response.

  “Just remember you can’t get a fifth penalty,” his captain went on. “Four is fine. Five, no bueno.”

  Zane frowned and looked over at the lanky winger. “I’m well aware of the penalty restrictions of a single game, Shap. Why are you telling me?”

  Shap shrugged his shoulders, tapping his stick on the ice. “Don’t want to lose you for the whole game. I don’t mind you lighting them up, just don’t get tossed out.”

  In an unprecedented move, Zane grinned at Shap without hesitation. “Are you giving me permission to go hard, O captain?”

  “Do your thing, Zamboni.” Shap returned his smile. “Make it a good game.” He pushed off and scooped up the puck, heading for the goal in a practice shot.

  “Yes, sir.” Zane shook his head, then forced the smile back. There was nothing to be gained from smiling on the ice, unless he was looking to unnerve someone.

  That was always a fun move.

  He bounced slightly on his skates, shaking his arms and legs to loosen them further, craning his neck one more time. This game needed to get started, and he needed to get at it.

  He looked up at the stands, skating around in small circles now, just for the sake of keeping moving and to not lose momentum. It would be hard to spot Mara and Hope in a crowd this size, but as he remembered, his tickets were always . . .

  He bit back a smile at the sight of a tall brunette with amazing legs in skinny jeans coming down the stairs towards a section, her hand holding that of a girl with bouncing pigtails. Both wore black T-shirts, the Hounds logo emblazoned in gold, though the little girl’s was glittery and glinted in the arena lights. And her shoes were bright pink.

  The sight of his baby girl at once filled him with joy and agony. That angel had a mother who no longer wanted to be considered such in any sense of the word. That sweet girl was being intentionally neglected by a parent.

  He was officially all that she had in the world.