Snapshots of Adam flashed through his brain. His friend’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, followed by Adam’s changing expressions as he went from cheerful to depressed and back again. The car veering into oncoming traffic, swerving to avoid bright headlights, overcompensating to slide onto the gravel shoulder, then over the edge and down an embankment. Finally, Adam hanging upside down in the rolled, wrecked car, his body contorted grotesquely, his eyes staring sightlessly into the night as blue lights flickered across his pale face.
The ref blew his whistle, disrupting the mental display. It didn’t stop the simple message from echoing in his head and sending a dagger through his heart.
You will never be good enough for Maggie.
Jake didn’t want to listen, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging inner voice. Especially when he knew the damn thing was right. He would never be a good man, no matter how hard he tried. He’d been a fool to think that changing his life, his reputation, would be enough. He should have known better. Hell, he had known better.
A shout sent him back onto the ice. He barely knew where he was or what he was doing. Opposing players drove forward as he tried to keep pace. The puck bounced over his stick as he attempted a poke check. Momentum carried him away from the play instead of toward it.
Three on one. He couldn’t get back. Skate, damn it!
It was no good. He was too late.
The smack of graphite on rubber. The red flash of the goal light. Boos from the crowd.
Frustration. Desperation. Despair.
He dropped his head and skated back to the bench. He’d let the team down.
Unacceptable.
A heavy hand slapped his shoulder. Max. “You’re sitting the rest of the game, Bad Boy.”
As his teammates struggled to right the situation he’d caused, Jake knew he had to do the same. He owed it to them. To Adam. To himself.
The only thing he could control was what he could deliver on the ice. As long as he was focused, he could guarantee success. From now on, hockey had to be the only thing on his mind and in his heart. Winning the Cup had to come first. He clenched his fist in his glove and pounded it on the board in front of him.
As for Maggie, he wouldn’t be responsible for wrecking her life any further. The best damn thing he could do for her was to stay as far away as possible. His soul ached at the thought of what he’d lose, yet he knew he had no choice. He cared too much for her.
Jake stared out at the ice, his mind oblivious to the frenetic action taking place before him.
There was only one solution.
The pain of what he had to do radiated from his heart until it felt like all his nerve endings were aflame. He bowed his head, resting it on his glove and ruthlessly forced his brain to clamp down on the agony. When he lifted his head finally, he was resolute.
The time had come to make the ultimate sacrifice.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“JAKE WAS a bloody liability tonight.”
Maggie couldn’t disagree with Tracy’s verdict. The guilt that had squeezed her chest every time the cameras had focused on him, his expression thunderous, got worse. His bad play had been because of her.
Jenny nodded, her expression glum. “I’m not surprised he was benched—his turnover led to the Flyers’ game-winning goal.”
The three women were curled up in comfortable chairs in front of the TV, each cradling a mug of hot chocolate. Maggie’s mobile phone lay on the coffee table between them, next to a crumb-covered dessert plate with one brownie remaining.
The commentators on the postgame show blamed Jake for the loss and speculated about the distraction caused by “recent events in his personal life.”
Maggie groaned. “I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.”
The nightmare had actually started last night. The weeklies back home had been more vicious than she’d expected. Each sneering commentary had been a bruising blow.
Then this morning, Samantha had phoned. Lee was making good on his threat to wrest custody from her. Her solicitor had reassured her that the same law which kept Lee in Emily’s life, ensured Maggie couldn’t be excluded either, but she faced a tough fight. One the media would relish.
Things had gone downhill from there. Work had been impossible. Maggie had spent the day making statements to the media—damage control that felt like a finger in a leaking levee.
Now as the hands on the mantel clock edged toward eleven, Maggie’s body ached with exhaustion and worry. She’d known how events would unfold as a result of the awful publicity, but she’d underestimated the toll it would take on her.
To cap it all, her phone had been ominously silent.
As it was game day, Jake had been tied up with the morning skate. But he’d promised to phone her. They’d agreed she shouldn’t attend the game, given the media fuss, but he’d sworn he couldn’t get through the day without hearing her voice. Yet he still hadn’t rung.