Gloves Off: a marriage of convenience hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 4)

My body hurts.

My head throbs, my back aches like something else, and stinging pain lances across my face. Did I get stitches? Feels like it.

The pain is nothing compared to how I feel when I open my eyes and see Georgia sitting in the chair beside my hospital bed, silently sobbing into her hands. Her shoulders shake, and my world collapses.

“Sweetheart.”

My voice is a dry rasp, and her head jolts up. Red and puffy eyes. Tearstained face. My chest aches. I can handle the other pain, but this? No. I can’t take this.

I’m done playing hockey. I know that now.

“You’re awake.” She sniffs and wipes her face, blinking away the tears.

In an instant, she’s at my side, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth that doesn’t hurt so much. Her scent is in my nose, her hair tickles my neck as it falls around me in a curtain of softness, and her hands barely touch my face, they’re so gentle.

“Alexei,” she breathes, and a fresh wave of tears shine in her eyes. She sucks in a tight breath, blinking, slipping on her professional exterior. “Do you remember what happened?”

“No.” I know it was bad, for my head to feel like this.

“Okay.” She nods to herself. “You were playing a game and experienced a head shot.”

“Feels like it.”

She pulls out a penlight as her eyes well with moisture. “I bet. Can you tell me your last name?”

I’ve done this before. She’s checking me for the concussion severity. “Volkov.”

“Good. Do you know the date?”

“January third.” I fucking hope.

She nods again. Good. “Who am I?”

My heart trips. “My wife.”

Her eyes close for a brief moment and she nods. “Yes, baby. What’s my name?”

“Hellfire.”

“Alexei, I swear to god.”

Teasing her dulls the pain. “Georgia Greene. Dr. Georgia Greene.”

“Good. I’m going to shine a light in your eyes.”

I study her face while she checks my pupils.

“What are you feeling? Headache? Nausea? Ringing in your ears?”

“Headache. Ringing in my ears. Back hurts.”

She nods to herself.

“Am I still pretty?” I ask with a crooked grin.

She doesn’t smile the way I want her to. “You’ve been unconscious for an hour.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.” Her throat works. “The doctor will do an assessment, but I think you have a Grade 4 concussion.

This woman loves me. Watching me get hurt hurts her. I’m hurting her. It’s so simple when I put it that way. I reach for her hand.

“I’m done with hockey.” I knew it the second I opened my eyes and saw her curled up and crying. “I’m ready to retire.”

“No, Alexei—” She starts shaking her head. “Don’t retire because of me. It’s everything to you.”

She’s so wrong. “It’s not everything to me. Not anymore. You are.” I swallow hard, studying every shade of whiskey, caramel, and amber in her eyes. “I won’t cause you pain.”

I never want to see her like this again. I never want her to cry because of me.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Her hand comes to my hair, pushing it off my forehead, careful not to touch what I’m sure is a massive goose egg. “I meant what I said. I love you.”

This woman. I can’t believe I ever thought she was selfish. She’s offering to go through hell and back so I can keep playing hockey.

“I meant what I said, too. I love you. Besides, I think I found something else I love more than playing hockey.” My mind goes to the rookie. I remember his goal tonight, and his assist, and the searing sense of pride and purpose in my chest, watching him celebrate.

“Walker is a cocky little fucker,” I admit with a laugh, and she smiles, too. It’s like a shot of morphine to my blood, relaxing me. “But seeing him grow and develop has been . . .” I trail off, unable to find the words. Challenging, but rewarding. “What if I can do that with other players?”

“You can.” Her smile is soft and encouraging. “I know you can.”

We smile at each other. She’s so fucking beautiful, it makes my heart ache in the sweetest way. I don’t deserve her.noveldrama

I want forever with this woman, and I’m about to tell her that, when she sends a pointed glance to my chest.

“Nice tattoo.”

I look down, wincing as pain races down my neck. I’m in a loose hospital gown, but beneath it, the bandage has been removed. Across my chest, the tattoo is still healing, but the flowers and vines are vibrant, bold, and beautiful.

“They took the bandage off when you were admitted.”

My gut tightens with nerves. She saw it. It’s now or never. “Do you know what those flowers are?”

She shifts the neckline down, studying them. “Yellow roses.”

“No, sweetheart. They’re golden roses.”

Her eyebrows slide together, eyes narrowing. “That one isn’t in my book.”

“I know. It goes by another name, though.” My pulse trips. “The Teasing Georgia rose.”