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

I throw a ball to Cooper and watch him race after it down the hallway. I smile; the joy I feel makes my body buzz with excitement. Today is the first game of the season, and I’m going, but not just as a hockey fan. Not just as Angie’s friend either. I’ll be there cheering for my man, and I hope with all my might that the California Thunders win. I know it will make Roman happy, and that means I’ll be happy too. For him.

At this point, I’d sell my soul to the devil if it would bring my favorite grin to his lips. The one where the corner of his mouth quirks up, a barely visible dimple on his cheek. It’s a half smile. Hesitant. As if he’s afraid to be happy, as if it’s a crime. He’s so wrong about that. Roman deserves to be happy, to have more reasons to smile. If only he could see himself the way I do…

“Coop,” a child’s voice says, and I look down to see Layla’s daughter, Maya, stop beside me. Her tiny arm wraps around my leg. My insides feel fuzzy and warm, and there’s a cheerful beam on my lips. Giddiness fills me to the brim. I never really hung around kids until Angie and Drake started dating. I preferred the company of adults and kept my distance from people with children. That changed pretty quickly after I got to spend time with Maya, and later with Ava’s kids, Michael and Meghan. I’d been missing out on so much fun.

“You want to play with Coop?” I ask. Maya looks up and nods, her little ponytail bouncing up and down.

Kneeling to her, I wind my hands around her and lift her, pressing her close to my chest. Her tiny palm rests on my collarbone, and she smiles at me shyly. Her chocolate brown eyes peer at me from behind her pink-framed glasses. She’s such a cute girl, with puffy lips and an upturned nose. She reminds me of her mom, with the exception of her brown hair, which she got from her father. At least, that’s what Layla said once, or more like let slip, because “that man doesn’t even deserve to be talked about.”

It hurt to hear her say that. Not only because Maya is wonderful and that douchebag is a fool for abandoning them, but because it resonated with me…and I felt seen. My parents never needed me. I had everything I wanted except their attention. Damn if I wasn’t yearning for them to notice me. For them to love me and be proud of me. It felt like I was a necessary step in the progression of their marriage, a milestone to be achieved, but never truly their daughter.

So, afraid of opening old wounds, I avoided people with kids. I’d see the parents’ love for their children and regret how my own family treated me. Maybe that’s why I’m so attached to Maya now, because in a way I see myself in her.

“Coop!” I call out, and the Doberman runs toward me, the ball between his teeth. He lets me take the toy from him, and I give it to Maya. “Throw the ball, baby. He’ll bring it back to us.”

Her small fingers curl around the ball, and she takes it from me. Maya smiles as she throws it. It lands pretty close to us, but it still has Cooper fumbling as he dashes to catch it. Maya’s giggles reverberate through my body, and I can’t help but laugh too.

We play some more and only stop when Angie comes to remind me that we’re leaving in twenty minutes. I pet Cooper, patting the fur between his ears, and then go to the living room. Maya is still in my arms, her fingers playing with my locks.

“You look so cozy together. Any chance I can convince you to work as my nanny?” Layla jokes. She’s sitting on the couch, a mug of coffee between her palms.

“Sorry, but I love my job a little too much.” I glance at Maya and start smiling from ear to ear. She’s so adorable. “But I wouldn’t mind watching her for a weekend. I’m sure it would be amazing.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely take you up on that offer. I haven’t gone out in an eternity,” Layla says, her gaze sliding to her daughter. Her features soften, and she leans over and places her mug on the table. “Did she try to take her glasses off?”

“No. We were too busy playing with Coop.”

“Thank God.” Layla sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Some days, it’s a nightmare. I put them on, and she takes them off. Over and over and over. Dr. Reece said it’s the only way to help her without surgery. Too bad she’s too small to understand how important they are.”

“But if she were older, surgery would’ve been the only way,” Angie says, returning to the room. She’s in a black dress with red flowers that flows freely from her waist. Her baby bump is still noticeable, and she looks incredibly cute with her hair collected into a high ponytail, a red ribbon securing it. She has always given me a feeling of comfort, but now it’s a thousand times stronger, surrounding me with warmth and peacefulness.

“I know.” Layla stands up from the couch and takes Maya’s sippy cup from the small wooden table. “I just love to complain from time to time—or more like always.” She comes closer and extends the cup to her daughter. “Do you want to drink your juice, baby? We’re going to your uncle’s game soon.”

Maya takes the sippy cup and starts to drink, her eyes dancing between her mom and me. A big, open smile blooms on her lips, and she points her cup at me. “Nev.”

“Yes, this is Nevaeh, sweetheart,” Layla says. “And she’s going to the game with us.”

“I wanna sit with her.” Maya clutches my T-shirt, grasping my hair in her little fist along with it. I wince and jerk slightly to my left. Her hand holding the sippy cup shakes, and the next thing I know, her juice spills all over my tee.

“Jesus!” Layla exclaims, grabbing the cup away from her daughter. “Nev, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” I let her take Maya from me and look down at my chest. It’s nothing serious, and it’ll be easy to get rid of the stain, but it’s so stinking wet.

“You can take something from my closet. Anything you want.” Angie walks over to me. “A dress, another tee, or maybe a hoodie.”

I pinch my eyebrows together, biting the inside of my cheek. An idea of what I want to borrow from her closet sparks in my head. It’s kinda risky, but at the same time, it’s exciting. Possessive Roman is my favorite.

“Can I borrow one of your jerseys?” I ask.

Angie stares at me for a moment, and then wholehearted laughter springs from her lips. “You do realize your man will be pissed if he sees you in Drake’s jersey?”

“Counting on it, actually.”

“You’re a bad girl, Nev. Distracting your man at his first game of the season,” she giggles. “It’ll be fun to see how Roman reacts.”

Winking at the girls, I turn around and head out of the living room with Angie in tow. A delicious thrill forms in my abdomen, and I can’t help but think about what Roman is going to do to me once we’re home.

His dominance in the bedroom is something I’ve only seen glimpses of, but I want to experience it firsthand. He’s been holding himself back, but I want him to let loose. And soon.

Roman might be surprised how well my wild side fits his.

The arena is buzzing with excitement. Thunderous music echoes off the walls and spreads through the crowd. People are talking and laughing, discussing the teams’ starting lineups. I hear the chatter, but it doesn’t hold my attention. The teams are on the ice for warm-ups, and my eyes instantly find Roman as I go down the stairs to our seats, holding hands with Maya.

She hasn’t left my side since we got in the car. The moment we stepped into the arena, her mom was on my back, reminding me to stop carrying Maya everywhere. She’s two, and she walks just fine on her own…but that doesn’t mean she should. I’m enjoying my time with her to the fullest.

“Mom said you’re Roman’s wife.” I still a little, glancing to my right and seeing Michael catch up with Maya and me. Ava and Colton’s son is a combination of them both, but the deep brown eyes that are studying me now definitely come from his dad.

“I am.”

Michael’s eyebrows pinch together, and his lips part as if he wants to say something. “But you were…” he mutters, and then he meets my eyes. “Roman is awesome, and you’re kinda cool too.”

“Thank you.” A compliment from a six-year-old? Priceless.

Michael nods and looks away, his cheeks reddening. With a look of concentration on his face, he rushes down the stairs and straight to the plexiglass to watch the teams warm up. Chuckling, I follow him, not even trying to listen to what Angie, Layla, and Ava are talking about behind me. My gaze is glued to the ice, and I easily find Roman. The number 21 on his back makes me think back to the jersey hanging on the wall in the living room. Now I know it’s a tribute to his brother; the M letter means Maksim. But why 24 and 21? Was there some meaning behind those numbers? Or were they just random?

I make a mental note to ask Roman about it. He’s like a riddle. One I’m trying to solve, figuring out more and more details about him. It’s exhilarating and exciting. Because every new revelation opens doors to more secrets, to more things for me to discover. And I can’t get enough of it. Or him.

Stopping behind Michael, I take Maya in my arms and look around the ice. The Vegas team is warming up on the opposite side of the rink. They are one of the best in the league, and I’ve read articles saying that the Thunders will have a very difficult first home game. The odds aren’t really in our favor either, but I still hope for the best.

“Dad!” Michael yells, waving his hand to catch his dad’s attention. Colton’s head snaps in our direction, and I see a smile creep onto his lips as he nods to his son.

I spot Drake near Colton; they’re taking turns shooting pucks into the net. I point at Drake and tell Maya, “Look, baby, there’s your Uncle Drake.”

Maya leans forward and presses her palms to the plexiglass, a giddy smile on her face. “Drake!”

I cuddle her to my chest. Her hair smells like strawberries, and I hide my nose in it. Happiness overwhelms me, like the waves of a tsunami, and a big smile crosses my face as I continue watching Colton and Drake. Michael blabbers about the players from the Vegas team, explaining their strengths and weaknesses. I listen absentmindedly, lost in the moment.

But then someone races right in front of the plexiglass where we’re standing, and I’m momentarily distracted. It’s Roman. He skates incredibly fast, a puck dancing on his stick.

“He’s practicing stickhandling,” Michael says to me, a lopsided grin on his face. “But he’s also showing off.”

“Is that so?” I ask, and Michael starts laughing, looking absolutely pleased with himself.

“Hundred percent.”

“Good to know,” I murmur, my eyes trained on Roman, who’s coming closer to us again.

His gaze finds mine, and I see a fire spark behind his irises. Letting his eyes coast over me, he frowns. Tilting his head to the side, he raises his hand and makes a twirling motion.

He wants to see whose jersey I’m wearing.

With a smirk, I turn around and show him my back, which has Drake’s number and last name on it. I look over my shoulder, and before Roman hurries away again, I get a chance to notice how his lips purse.

Looks like my plan is working.

For the next ten minutes, we continue watching the players warm up. More and more people fill the arena. Layla comes over and stands beside me, while Angie and Ava with her daughter, Meghan, sit in our seats and talk.

“It’s time,” Michael says, and I realize he’s right. The teams are starting to leave the ice.

I’m ready to go to my seat, but in my peripheral vision, I notice Roman skate toward me. My heart instantly goes pitter-patter, my pulse pumping so hard I’m worried my veins are going to explode.

Layla sees Roman too, and with a smile, she takes Maya from me and turns to look at Ava’s son. “Let’s go, Michael. Roman and Nev need a moment alone.”

Even without Layla, Maya, and Michael, I’m surrounded by so many people. There’s no place to hide so Roman can tell me what he wants to tell me in private. But, strangely, it doesn’t matter.

“Shouldn’t you be heading to the locker room?” I joke once he stops in front of me.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing my jersey?” he counters, not wasting a minute of his time.

“This one looks⁠—”

“I dare you to say it looks good on you, Malyshka. Say it. You’ll find out what it means to be on my bad side.” Roman glances to the left and realizes he’s the last one on the ice.

“It looks good on me,” I taunt, not giving a damn that the woman beside me is listening to our conversation.

Roman shakes his head and backs away. “You better pray we win tonight, Nevaeh. I won’t be in the mood for games if we lose. And next time⁠—”

“What?”

“Next time, wear mine,” he says in a low growl. Then he rushes off the ice without glancing back.

And now I’m not sure I want the Thunders to win anymore. Getting punished by my husband sounds way too intriguing, I think to myself as I sit down beside Angie.

It’s something he hasn’t done before.