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

Roman’s arms are wrapped tightly around me, my head resting on his chest. The pounding of his heart resonates with mine. My eyes are tearful, and I bite my bottom lip hard, hoping to stifle my sobs. Him telling me about his last conversation with his brother broke my heart. Bearing that much guilt is unimaginable. It’s self-destructive and gut-wrenching. Even just the thought of him walking away from Maksim, not realizing that it would be the last time he’d see his brother alive, makes me want to cry. All over again.

I understand him better now.

“I know that no matter what I say, it won’t be enough. Losing someone you love is always hard, but the guilt you carry is even more devastating. I wish I could do something to help you.”

“You’re already helping me,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I haven’t talked about my past so openly with anyone before. Just you.”

“That makes me so sad,” I confess, sniffing. “We all need someone in our corner. Someone who will guide us and help us overcome our problems when we’re struggling to do it on our own. Your mom could’ve been that for you, and you could’ve been her safe place too. Your trauma is⁠—”

“If she knew what I said, how I turned my back on my twin, she’d never forgive me.”

His words register in my head. Their meaning sinks in, and I abruptly sit up. “Your twin?”

Roman nods, his red-rimmed eyes focused on me. “I’m the older…I was the older one. Just three minutes older, so that’s the reason for our numbers on our jerseys. I was born at 3:21 p.m., and Maks at 3:24. I always joked about it, about him being my little brother. As if he were someone who needed my support and protection, while in reality he was the mature one. More reasonable and a thousand times nicer than me. People loved him, Nevaeh, and they all have been left with me.”

I scoff. “Don’t say that. You make it sound as if everyone wanted you dead instead of Maksim.”

“My father did.” He shrugs. My jaw drops, and I don’t even know what to say. “He told me it should’ve been me.”

“What kind of father says that to their child?”

“Mine.” Roman turns his head and stares at the wall, his eyes veiled with unshed tears. “Some parents love their children the same; they don’t favor one over the other. My mom is like that, but my father wasn’t. I was a mama’s boy, and Maks was our father’s son. We were fucking twins, but my dad treated me like I wasn’t his. Always nitpicking. Always criticizing. The comparison game? It was the worst. By the time I was a teenager, I believed my brother was a trueborn talent, while everything I had was the result of hard work, nothing else. Our father always said Maks would be the one to make him proud. That he would be an NHL legend, while I would be lucky if any KHL⁠1 team would want me.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Nothing I wasn’t used to.”

“But it’s still terrible! I know people can get used to absolute shit if it happens to them constantly, but that doesn’t make it fucking right. You wouldn’t say ‘nothing she isn’t used to’ about a woman suffering from physical abuse, would you? Why are you trying to justify it?” I’m fuming. My neck feels hot, and I ball my fists tighter. “What about your mom? Did she think it was okay?”

Roman peers at me. The corner of his mouth lifts; his signature crooked smile plays on his lips. He slips his hand around my waist and makes me straddle his legs. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.” His eyes slide to my chest in my new pink PJs and down to my cotton shorts. “And I’m happy to see you going back to your roots and adding more color to your wardrobe. It suits you.”

I smile and tuck my hair behind my ears. “Thank you, Roman.” Then I narrow my eyes and lower my face to his. “But you’re changing the subject, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“My mom was always arguing with my father, always telling him how unfair he was to me. She filed for divorce a few months before Maks’s death, and my brother and I both supported her. He didn’t like how our father treated me either.” His gaze becomes distant. He’s looking at me, but I know he doesn’t really see me. “He was a good guy, Malyshka. In every sense of the word…He was a good one, and he died.”

“If bad things only happened to awful people, life would be so much easier,” I whisper, caressing his cheek with my fingertips. “I know it doesn’t feel fair, and I know it’s hard for you. But you’re destroying yourself, and⁠—”

“And you sound just like my mom. Ne nado⁠2.” Roman winces, clicking his tongue loudly. He frowns and gazes at me from under furrowed brows. “You can’t fix me. The sooner you understand that, Nevaeh, the better.”

Let me help you. The words are tethered to the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them down and force a fake smile onto my face. “I understand,” I say. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

His pupils dilate, and his jaw hangs open. We sit here in the quiet of his room, our eyes trained on each other. I want to say so many things to him, but I know now is not the time. He’s not ready to listen. I don’t think he’s ever going to let himself heal unless he finally understands that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting his brother.

“My father hated me so much that he drank himself to death. He couldn’t stand that I was still living, breathing…fucking existing. I was in a dark vortex after Maks’s death. It was just a black hole, with no hope. No happiness. And no love. This thing”—Roman takes my hand in his and places it over his heart—“is broken. There’s nothing left except grief and hate. Whatever you’re trying to pour into it will leak out instantly.”

I bite my bottom lip, my tears threatening to spill. “You’re letting your father win.”

“I’m not.” He groans and hides his face in his hands. When he looks at me again, I see agony lurking behind the mask he’s trying to wear. Why can’t he just stop pretending with me? “I don’t want to argue with you, Nevaeh. That’s who I am, and who I always will be. Not every broken piece is meant to be mended.”

Nodding, I slide off of his legs and plop onto my right side, hiding my hands under my pillow. I close my eyes, begging myself to stay indifferent. Reading between the lines, I know what he’s been trying to tell me. He’ll never love me because he’s incapable of love. He will never give me what I want, will never be the man I need.

The most ridiculous thing? I don’t believe him.

“Malyshka,” Roman murmurs, his voice sending shivers down my spine. His hand lands on my hip as he inches closer to me, pressing his chest to my back. He hugs me tight from behind and hides his nose in my hair, nuzzling my neck. “Don’t be angry with me. I hate it.”

“I’m not angry. I’m disappointed.”

He chuckles softly. “I still hate it.”

“I know.” I cover his hand on my belly with mine and thread my fingers through his. “It’s late. Let’s sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

I lie still, the warmth of his body lulling me to sleep. Yet my mind is agitated, and it keeps me awake. His demons aren’t new to me. They are my old companions. I know better than anyone how much hate someone can hold in their heart. I’ve been just like him, so sure I’d never get out of the vicious circle I was in.

If it weren’t for Angie, maybe I’d still be that bitter and petty version of me. She helped me when I was sure my battle was lost. She believed in me, and she never gave up on me.

And that’s exactly what I’m going to do to him…even if we aren’t meant to be.

“Knock, knock.” The door opens, and Kai strolls into my office. He’s in a pastel pink tee and light blue jeans, his Armani watch sparkling in the rays of the setting sun. “Can I come in?”

I snort, shaking my head. “You’re already in, boss.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Still needed to ask. Personal space, you know?” Kai lowers himself into the chair across from me, sets his elbows on my desk, and connects the pads of his fingers together. “I thought we were friends.”

I rear back in my seat. Confusion clouds my mind as I try to figure out what he means. What could I have possibly done for Kai to come into my office when my workday is almost over and ask questions like this?

“We are friends,” I tell him. “Why?”

“Well, you know, if I got married, I would’ve told you.”

My face falls. I blink, opening my mouth and then closing it. Kai looks absolutely calm, studying me with his deep brown eyes. With how his lips twitch, I’m sure he finds this amusing. Unlike me. How the hell does he know?

“What do you mean?” I ask hoarsely.

Kai rolls his eyes, reaches over, and grabs a few Sour Patch Kids from the bowl on my desk. He tosses one into his mouth and says as he starts chewing, “There are a few articles going around on social media about you and someone named Roman Pashkevich. A right defenseman for the California Thunders.” A big smile spreads across his lips. “And there are very cute pictures of you talking to him at the arena. A girl in her man’s jersey and him skating to her before his big game starts.”

“It wasn’t his jersey.” Goodness, why am I talking about that? It’s meaningless right now.

“You went to your husband’s first home game of the regular season wearing someone else’s jersey?” I nod, still processing the news. How does everyone know we’re married? “That’s why I love you, Nevaeh. You’re wild. I don’t think I would’ve had it in me.”

“Why? You would look great in a jersey,” I tease, finally feeling the knots in my stomach loosen up.

Kai sticks out his tongue at me. “I didn’t think you’d be into younger guys. Even if he is exactly your type: blond hair and blue eyes. Except maybe his height. Isn’t he a little too big for you?”

“He’s big, but it’s fine,” I say and notice Kai’s eyes rounding. He leans forward, his mouth agape. Dammit. I cover my face with my palms, my cheeks burning hot. “I meant his height.”

“Sure. His height is the reason you’re as red as a tomato.” My boss laughs, relaxing into his seat with one hand on his belly. “There’s one thing that doesn’t really make sense to me though. One of those articles quotes some anonymous source who said you got married in Vegas at the end of August. Weren’t you still with Travis?”

Fuck, that escalated quickly. Though the mention of the anonymous source and our Vegas wedding make it clear how everyone found out. It must be that Emmett guy. He probably saw the pictures of me at the game and decided to spill the tea, maybe spoil the beginning of the season for Roman.

“It was after I broke up with him.”

Kai arches his eyebrow, a question in his eyes. “So you broke up with your boyfriend and got married to a hockey player? Did you leave Travis for this guy?”

“Yes and no. My breakup with Travis had nothing to do with Roman. This marriage…it just happened, okay? We got married in Vegas and decided to see where it would lead us. So far, so good.” I give Kai a weak smile.

My boss’s gaze roams over my face, and then he starts grinning. Clapping his hands together, Kai stands up from his seat. “You definitely look happy. I’ve noticed it for a while now, just thought it was from you living the single life.”

“No. It’s all Roman,” I confirm despite my heart still aching from our talk last night.

“Does he speak to you in Russian?” Kai asks, heading to the door. “I looked him up before I came to you with questions.”

“Sometimes. He calls me ‘Malyshka’; I still need to google what it means.” I giggle.

“I think it’s ‘baby’…or ‘baby girl,’” Kai muses, looking thoughtful. How does he know that? He meets my gaze, noticing my bewildered look. “I had a few friends from Russia back in college, when I was studying in London. Still remember some of the swear words they used, but I won’t try to repeat them. They’re too hard to pronounce.”

“You’re full of surprises, Kai.”

“So are you, Nevaeh.” Kai winks and opens the door, heading out of my office. “You’re more famous than me now.”

Laughing, he closes the door behind him. I continue smiling as I pull my laptop closer to me. My fingers hover over the keyboard, but I don’t move. Kai’s words make their way to my brain, and panic washes over me.

Travis.

1 Континентальная хоккейная лига (КХЛ) — Kontinental Hockey League

2 Не надо. — Don’t.