Breakaway: An Accidental Marriage Hockey Romance (Sinners on the Ice)

Inhaling deeply, I nuzzle my nose in silky hair. The aroma of vanilla and probably jasmine slides under my skin, forcing a smile on my face. My hand slowly trails up the soft curve of a hip. The second my mind registers this information, my eyes open.

Chto za khernya⁠1?

When my vision adjusts to the dimness of the room, I notice sunlight peeking through the closed curtains.

Looks like it’s morning already.

Slowly propping myself up on my elbow, I look down at Nevaeh sleeping peacefully in my bed. Her body is up against mine, her ass pressed to my groin and my hand plastered to her hip. The good news? We’re still dressed. The bad? I don’t remember how we got back to our room.

I take my hand off her hip and move away as carefully as possible. First I set my feet on the ground, and then I push my body up until I’m standing. The moment I turn to my right, a pounding ache spreads across my skull. It’s like a marching band snuck up into my head to perform. Gritting my teeth, I shut my eyes tight in hopes that this pain will disappear. No luck.

Blyat’⁠2, this hangover is the worst I’ve had in years.

As slowly as possible, I turn on my heel and go to the bathroom. Turning on the light is inevitable, but nothing can prepare me for the wave of nausea that washes over me once the room fills with light. My headache intensifies, rages, my temples throbbing. Every muscle in my body aches; I don’t have the energy to take off my clothes before I get myself into the shower. Turning on the cold water, I slump down onto my ass and just sit under the pouring water, hoping that the ache will go away.

There’s nothing I want more than relief.

I open the bathroom door and creep out. Not hearing any sounds except Nevaeh’s quiet snoring, I grab my clothes. My towel falls to the ground as soon as I return to the bathroom, and I pull on a new black T-shirt and black sweatpants. Weaving my fingers through my hair, I blow out a breath, and then I brace myself with my hands on either side of the sink. The cold shower helped to dull my headache, and only a little fatigue reminds me of the state I woke up in. My skin is as pale as fucking chalk, and the dark circles under my eyes are starting to look like a permanent guest on my face.

Why did I do this? I lean forward and press my forehead to the mirror. Drowning my problems in alcohol isn’t the answer. My past is my teacher—my father’s experience should be my best reason to stay away from drinking. Even Maksim’s death…What the hell was I thinking last night?

With a sharp inhale, I step away from the sink. The low grumble of my stomach echoes in the quiet. I know better than to try and eat anything after the night I had, but maybe I can have some coffee? Dark and strong with just one cube of sugar to refuel my body and stimulate dopamine.

Yeah, I can definitely try coffee. Hopefully, I won’t regret it.

Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, I look around for my phone and finally notice it on the floor by the door, along with the key card. Zaebis’⁠3. At least I didn’t drop them in the hallway. I grab everything off of the floor, shove it in my pocket, and open the door as quietly as possible. Nevaeh is still asleep, and I don’t want to wake her up. Fingers crossed, sleeping in will save her from the hangover I had.

I plop down into a chair in the darkest corner in the lobby. Taking the tiniest sip of black coffee, I swallow it and pause, checking to see how my stomach will react. When nothing happens, I allow myself to relax into the plush material of the chair and close my eyes. The bitterness of the coffee lingers on my tongue, and when I take a more generous sip, it slides down my throat, evoking a warmth that spreads all over my skin. The little cube of sugar melts, making it just a bit sweeter. It’s exactly what I need right now.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I finally check the time, and my brows rise up. One p.m.? I expected it to be at least two hours earlier, but whatever, there’s nothing I can do about it. I read Mom’s texts about her Sunday plans to visit her sister, and a low chuckle escapes my lips when I read her text saying she hopes I had a fun night. If she only knew. She wouldn’t be happy with me. Getting blackout drunk was something I did when I was a teenager. Doing it as a responsible adult? Definitely not something I’m proud of.

I send Mom a few texts, asking her to say hi to my Aunt Lena, and also letting her know that I’m flying back home tomorrow morning. She doesn’t know I’m here with Nevaeh, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. The number of questions I can imagine her asking is huge, and knowing my mom, I won’t hear the end of it. The less she knows about certain things, the less worried she will be. That’s something I’ve learned throughout the years.

Pressing the cup to my lips, I open my web browser to look for a show Nevaeh and I might see tonight. Hot coffee fills my mouth, but the second I see the article that’s open on my phone screen, it threatens to spill out. I forcibly swallow, cough, and set my cup on the small table in front of me, my eyes watering. My phone is like a ticking bomb in my hand, making my palms sweaty. There’s no way I googled this.

Can I get married in Vegas if I have a work visa?

I click through the tabs I have open, and most of the articles make me want to drop my fucking phone as if it’s poisonous.

How to get a marriage license

Marriage license bureau Vegas address

Nearest wedding chapel Vegas

Tossing my phone on the table, I hide my fingers in my hair and dig my nails into my scalp. This is a fucking joke. I remember playing Truth or Dare at the bar, and it was probably just part of that stupid game, right? It has to be, because…no, it’s impossible. Why would we get married? It makes no sense.

I lick my lips, my eyes glossing over the lobby without seeing anything. My gaze zeroes in on my coffee cup, and I feel nauseous. Bile climbs up my throat, making it constrict painfully. I inhale and exhale, again and again—anything to calm down my breathing and not let the bile come out. Why am I panicking? I don’t even know if my googling means anything.

A clipped memory pops into my head. Just an image, no sound. Nevaeh sits across from me at the bar, her hands on the table as she tells me something, her hair falling into her eyes. She tucks her wild locks behind her ears and meets my gaze. A shy smile graces her features when my palm covers hers.

What the hell were we talking about? Blyat’⁠4. I don’t remember shit about what we did at the bar or afterward.

There’s only one way to know what happened. I need to go back to my room and talk to the only person who can help me shed light on last night’s events. Or at least try to remember some of the night if, like me, she has zero recollection.

Please don’t let me be married.

I cautiously open the door of our room and step inside. The cup of coffee I brought for Nevaeh is in my hand. I walk further into the room and see her stir in bed. Freezing on the spot, I watch her in silence in case she’s not ready to wake up.

Groaning softly, Nevaeh sits up in bed. She’s pouting, and her eyebrows are pinched together. Her hair flows down her shoulders, looking adorably messy. Stretching, she raises her arms in the air and yawns loudly. Even in my distressed state, I can’t hold back a smile. Something about this girl just resonates with me, drawing me to her and causing emotions I’ve never felt in my life.

“Hey,” I say quietly, and she turns her head to me. Her eyes travel from my face down my body, assessing the clothes I’m wearing. “How do you feel?”

“Don’t know yet,” she grumbles and stands up from the bed, hesitant. Rotating her neck, she stretches again, and a small smile crosses her features. “Well, at least my head doesn’t hurt.”

“Lucky you. I woke up with a raging headache.” I step closer and extend the cup to her. “Here, I brought you some coffee.”

Nevaeh lowers her gaze to the cup and then looks back at me, her eyes roaming over my face. “How long have you been awake?”

“An hour.”

Becoming pensive for a moment, she continues to stare at me, but I doubt she really sees me. One hand slides down her dress while the other flies to her hair, threading her fingers through and stumbling over some knots. The change in her face is sudden, her cheeks growing a deep shade of pink as her lips part.

Without a word, she hurries to her suitcase, rummages through it, and grabs something. The next thing I know, she’s closing the bathroom door behind her.

I take a deep breath, put her coffee on the nightstand, and decide to clean up our room, starting with finally letting in the sunlight.

“You sure you don’t want to eat?” Nevaeh asks, arching an eyebrow at me from across the table. We’ve been sitting at the restaurant for twenty minutes, and the only thing I’ve managed to have was another cup of coffee.

“I’m fine,” I drawl, drumming my fingers on the table. Trying to figure out the best way to ask her about last night is giving me a headache all over again.

“God, you’re frustrating!” she says angrily, and my eyes snap to her in an instant. Putting her fork on her plate and pushing it away from her, she leans back in the chair, her gaze glued to me. “We haven’t known each other long, but I can tell you have something on your mind. What’s going on?”

I run my palm down my face. It’s like my brain went into short circuit, because for a moment I forget how to speak English. Setting my elbows on the table, I lock my hands in front of me, and, after a long exhale, I finally go for it.

“What do you remember about last night?”

Nevaeh frowns, trailing her fingers over her braid. Her silence is deafening, and I’m slowly losing my shit. Please, say something.

“I remember that after the casino we went to the bar, and we were playing Truth or Dare.” She trails off, twisting her lips into a little grimace. I wait, praying she remembers more than I do. “I think we went somewhere…but I don’t remember where, exactly, or what we were doing. Why? I mean, we made it back to our room, right? Sure, I fell asleep in your bed, which I’m really sorry for. But I was fully dressed when I woke up, so I don’t think anything happened between us. Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No, of course not. I know nothing happened,” I blurt, mentally slapping myself when I notice how her gaze darkens. Fuck, this shit is messing with my head. “I’m just worried we did something…extremely stupid.”

“Such as?” She arches her eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

Instead of answering, I pull my phone out of my pocket and show her the articles I discovered in my browser. Nevaeh keeps silent at first, but then she bursts out laughing.

“You think we got married?” I nod, and she only snorts louder. “Roman, that’s absolutely ridiculous. I broke up with Travis because I realized he was going to propose to me. I’m not ready for marriage; I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. There’s no way I would’ve agreed to get married, even if I was drunk as shit.”

Something flashes in my head, a fleeting memory. But no matter how hard I try to catch it, it’s gone. The only thing I’m sure about is that I heard her talking about not being ready for marriage.

Leaning back in my chair, I put an open palm to the top of my head, barely listening to Nevaeh’s rambling. She goes on and on about her ex, about how she got sick when she saw the ring. Grabbing her purse, she takes her phone out and starts looking for something.

Suddenly, she shuts up; her face becomes pale. My heart drops to my feet, beating loudly.

“What is it?” I ask.

With trembling hands, she puts her phone on the table and pushes it toward me. I look down, gaping at a picture of a marriage license with our names. My mouth becomes dry, and I swallow with difficulty.

“I need a moment.” The words rush out as I jump to my feet. Without waiting for Nevaeh to respond, I dash out of the restaurant, desperate for fresh air…because I truly feel like I’m suffocating.

Eto pizdets⁠5.

1 Что за херня? — What the hell?

2 Блять (cuss word) — Fuck

3 Заебись (cuss word). — Awesome.

4 Блять (cuss word). — Fuck.

5 Это пиздец (cuss word). — It’s a nightmare.