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

Tuesday passed in a blur. I barely did anything, mostly just moped around my apartment and pretended to have a life. When I woke up after only four hours of sleep, I wasn’t even surprised. I just went to the living room to watch Peaky Blinders, and once it was light enough, I hit the road. Mindlessly. Without any goal or destination. Just to feel something other than resentment and pain. Those two feelings live rent free in my head, intoxicating my mind and body. Guilt that I can’t shake off no matter how much I try resides in my heart, making it impossible to enjoy my days.

But the adrenaline rush I feel any time I ride my Kawasaki doesn’t fail me. Compared to my sleepless nights when my thoughts are consumed by heartache, the time I spend on my motorcycle is the only time I don’t think about my brother’s anniversary. The warm air around me feels like freedom, liberating me from my nightmares and depressing thoughts.

Maneuvering, staying in control of every move while also focusing on the road and everything around me. The thrill I feel when I lean into turns causes a smile to spread over my lips. The roar of the engine and the acknowledgment of the power underneath me makes my heart pound in my chest, and the blood in my veins heats up. The smells, the drop in temperature as I get close to the ocean, the sounds. I feel alive when I’m on my motorcycle…and in the offseason, I need it like I need oxygen.

Hockey is my cure. It’s the only thing that makes sense when nothing else matters. I owe everything to this sport, and I miss my time on the ice like crazy. A motorcycle ride is the closest I can get to feeling that high in the offseason. And that’s exactly why I still have my Kawasaki, even if my mom has begged me to get rid of it.

Today’s ride felt like a blessing. Getting home was like the cruelest joke; parking my motorcycle brought back all the thoughts I’d suppressed on the road. Da chto za bred⁠1! Is there any fucking way to make it hurt less?

“Roman!”

I halt in my tracks, my hand on the doorknob. Looking over my shoulder, I notice Nevaeh sashaying toward me. Her white dress with lacy details on the skirt spotlights her golden skin and the narrow curve of her waist, pushing her round tits up. A high ponytail bounces left and right with each step she takes in her nude stilettos. It’s the perfect view except for one tiny detail—the huge bouquet of pink roses in her hands.

“Hey.” Nevaeh stops beside me, her eyes crinkling with a devilish glint. Her gaze roams over me, lingering on the helmet in my hand. “You went for a ride?”

I nod, eyeing the bouquet like it’s the source of my misery. “What’s this?”

Her smile fades immediately. She looks down at the roses and then back at me with her eyebrows knit together. She shrugs, pressing the roses closer to her chest. “They’re from Travis.”

“The ex,” I exclaim as I jerk the doorknob and open the door wide. “I thought you said you wanted him to move on.”

“I still do,” she says quietly, following me inside the building. “I felt bad saying no to him.”

“Giving him hope when you know the breakup was final is bad. Saying no to him giving you flowers shows mercy.” I start climbing steps, not sparing her a single glance. Her footsteps stop, and that’s how I know she’s taking the elevator instead. Good. Maybe walking to the sixth floor will help me ditch this insufferable agitation. It’s like the cherry on top of my already fucked-up mood, and I don’t need it.

Stair after stair, I ascend until I’m on my floor. Breathing heavily, I stomp to my apartment door. A drop of sweat slides down my cheek, and I wipe it away with my hand. Na huî vsyo eto⁠2. Why am I getting so worked up? Because I want her? Na huî.⁠3 It’s stupid. She’s as off-limits as she was the day I met her.

But she’s my wife.

The words flash in my head, and I grit my teeth because it means shit. Our marriage is a joke. Stupid ink on paper. No one in their right mind would want to be married to me…I’m a disease. Destructive and poisonous. I demolish everything around me until there’s nothing left but the scorched earth. It makes no difference that we’re legally tied together now. When it’s time to sign the divorce papers, she’ll hate my guts so much, she’ll be relieved to be free from me.

It will be so much better if I keep my distance. She doesn’t need my mood swings or my jealousy. Especially if I have no right to feel jealous.

I’m just her roommate, after all.

A little green and yellow cardboard box appears in front of my face. Looking up from my laptop, I find Nevaeh with a Sour Patch Kids pack in her hand.

“What is this?” I close my laptop and put it on the coffee table.

“My favorite. Chewy candy. Really sour chewy candy,” she replies, holding my gaze.

“And you’re giving it to me…why?”

“Peace offering.” She tosses the box onto my lap and plops down beside me on the couch. “I hate conflict. It makes my skin itch and turns my brain to jelly. I don’t want to feel like that at home…sorry, at your place.”

I chuckle, taking the box and opening it. “It’s your home too,” I tell her.

“Your silent treatment doesn’t really scream hospitality. And it definitely doesn’t make me feel at home,” Nevaeh says, watching as I take a candy and put it in my mouth. I extend the box to her; she takes it and quickly tosses a candy into her mouth too. “Thanks.”

“I should be the one thanking you. And also apologizing to you.” I turn to her, letting my eyes wander over her makeup-free face. This girl is absolutely perfect, with and without makeup. With her hair down or in a ponytail or braids. I’m mesmerized by her, falling deeper and deeper in the river of denial. Soon, convincing myself to stay the hell away from her is going to be very difficult. “I’m sorry for what I said. It’s not my place to comment on you and Travis, and I have no right to talk to you like that.”

Nevaeh tosses a few candies into her open palm, and returns the box to me. “You were rude, but you were also right. I shouldn’t have taken the flowers from Travis. It gives him hope, and that’s not what I want.”

“Did he come to your office?”

“Yes. No. Not exactly.” She dumps the candies into her mouth and chews, while I continue to stare at her. With an exasperated sigh, she turns to me. “We work in the same building. Yesterday, when I was on my way to Angie’s, I saw him in the elevator.”

They work in the same building? My skin becomes hot, and before I say anything stupid, I stuff my face with six candies. The sour taste fills my mouth, and I close my eyes for a second, wincing. It’s better this way though. It’s better to chew on these, than say things no one wants to hear.

“I was sure he’d try to see me, so I planned to leave later than usual so I could avoid him,” Nevaeh mumbles, sitting cross-legged. “But he showed up at my office with the bouquet when I was about to leave. He even insisted on walking me to my car, telling me over and over how much he and Happy miss me.”

“Happy?”

“His dog. The cutest French bulldog,” she explains, a gentle smile blooming on her lips. “Trav knows I love Happy.”

“So he’s using him to guilt-trip you into getting back together.”

“No, it’s more about making me miss him, so I’d want to see him.”

“And you’d need to go to his place for that.” I nod in understanding, putting the empty box on the table. “He’s good. Using anything he can to get you back.”

Nevaeh meets my gaze, watching me in the quiet of the room. She’s nothing like I thought she’d be. At first glance, she’s a very easygoing, always ready to have fun kind of girl. But it’s so surface level that I’m not really surprised I misjudged her. There’s so much more to her, something deeper and unexpectedly darker, and I’m finding it really hard to puzzle her out.

“We’ll never get back together. I don’t love him, and a loveless relationship isn’t what I want for myself. I witnessed enough of that in my childhood. There’s no way I’d go back to it as an adult.”

“‘Never’ is a really strong word, Nevaeh. I’m sure you never thought you’d get married on a whim in Vegas, and yet—here we are. Life is full of surprises. No one knows what’s going to happen to them for certain. We can only guess, and unfortunately, we’re not always right.”

“I get what you’re saying, but you’re wrong.”

Silence stretches as we sit on the couch, looking each other in the eyes. A tingling feeling in my fingertips urges me to move closer, to feel her skin against mine, to blanket myself with her warmth and tenderness. But I do nothing…because I don’t want complications.

“Do you want to eat?” she suddenly asks, making me blink. “Maybe we can order some takeout and watch something together.”

I stand up from the couch and hover over her. “I cooked yesterday. Macaroni with chicken cutlets. There are also tomatoes and cucumbers in the fridge if you want a salad.” I extend my hand to her, and she takes it, letting me pull her to her feet. “Though if you want something else, we just need to⁠—”

“Macaroni and chicken sounds good. Especially if you have some grated cheese to add.” A smile blossoms on her lips as she looks up at me, curling her fingers around mine. The wave of heat scattering over my skin throws me off, like a sudden cold wind on a scorching day. My heartbeat picks up, and I swallow my nerves and force a smile onto my face.

“I’ll trade you some grated cheese for you telling me about your day yesterday. How did it go when you told Angie the truth?” We saunter into the kitchen holding hands.

“Are you asking if Drake knows? He does. And why hasn’t he called you? Because I told him not to. But I’m one hundred percent sure he’ll bring it up at Ava’s birthday party on Saturday.” Nevaeh grins, making me snort. “That should give you a bit of time to think about what you’ll want to say. So be prepared because I’m sure your friends are going to have a lot of questions.”

I let go of her hand and nudge her toward the table. She goes to climb onto the chair, and my eyes zero in on her perky ass in cotton shorts. My mind immediately offers a memory from Vegas, when I woke up with my hand on her hip. And things start to feel a bit too tight in my pants.

Ocharovatel’no⁠4. Exactly what I don’t need when I’m trying to feed her a delicious meal.

Skirting the table, I move to the fridge. “I’m already terrified.”

Her mellow laughter spreads across the room, filling every little space with her presence. I chuckle to myself, choosing to focus on right now instead of torturing myself with all the what-ifs of my future.

I have all night for that.

1 Да что за бред! — What a bunch of nonsense!

2 На хуй (cuss word) всё это. — To hell with all that.

3 На хуй (cuss word). — To hell with that.

4 Очаровательно. — Lovely.