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

I park my Kawasaki in the driveway of a two-story house, then I hop off it and look around. Clay lives in a very nice neighborhood, not very far from Ava and Colton’s house. His house is white with a red tiled roof, large windows, and a spacious lawn—looks like something I would want for myself if I decided to settle down and start a family.

That was an incredibly dumb thought, Roman.

“What do you think?” Clay asks, climbing out of his Mercedes-Benz G-Wagon. “You like my little house?”

“I wouldn’t call it little,” I counter and strut to the backseat of his car, opening the door and taking out my gym bag. “Thank you again for letting me crash. Really appreciate it.”

“It’s fine. What are friends for if you can’t ask them to stay at their house for a few days?” Clay smiles, takes his own bag from the backseat, and locks the car once the door is closed. “Besides, I figured you couldn’t ask Thompson or Benson, because they’d both have a ton of questions. Drake even more than Colt since Nevaeh is his fiancée’s best friend.”

I roll my eyes but don’t say anything, following him into the house. The ride on my motorcycle helped me to calm down a little, emptying my mind of the thoughts that have been troubling me since the moment I read the article. The only question I still have is why. Why would she do something like that to me?

And why the hell did she look so surprised when I asked her about it?

“Want something to drink? Or eat?” Clay looks at me over his shoulder, but I just shake my head. “Okay, let’s show you to your room then. But in case you change your mind, the kitchen is over there.” He points to his right. “Don’t have much in the fridge, but I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“Thanks, Clay.”

We go upstairs, and Clay opens the third door on his left, turning on the lights and stepping inside. I follow him in and sweep my gaze over the bedroom. It’s a big room, beige in color, with expansive windows and dark blue curtains. There’s a queen-size bed, a desk with a chair, a mirror, and a closet. There’s also an en suite bathroom. Simple yet thoughtful. I would’ve done a guest room the same way if I had a house like this. Fuck. What’s wrong with me tonight? A borrowed life in a borrowed place is my destiny. There’s no need for stupid fantasies that I can have something more.

“It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

“It’s more than you think,” I say, walking to the bed and putting my gym bag on it. “I’ll try to find an apartment as soon as possible so I can be out of your hair⁠—”

“You can stay as long as you need, Roman.” Clay shrugs. “I actually don’t mind the company. Living alone in a house like this can be…well…”

Lonely. That’s what he wanted to say, and I can relate. It was exactly how I felt in my apartment. Everything was good and all, but something was missing. Until I brought Nevaeh home after finding her at the club. She filled my place with comfort and warmth…and now I’m running away like a coward because she hurt me.

“Make yourself at home.” Clay saunters to the door, clapping me on the back on his way out. “And Roman?” I turn my head to look at him as he pauses in the doorframe. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

I nod, my throat closing up, and Clay walks out and closes the door behind him. Alone, I stand unmoving, my arms dangling at my sides. The strong persona I tried to maintain around Nevaeh and Clay is collapsing, and the pain in my chest becomes stronger. It’s hard to breathe fully, hard to think rationally. I’m full of volatile emotions, and I’ve bottled them up and silently hoped that they wouldn’t explode.

Opening the bag, I quickly rummage through the clothes I brought with me. After finding black sweatpants and a white tee, I grab them and go to the bathroom. I put my phone on the bathroom counter, strip naked, and step into the shower, turning on the cold water. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and my hair slowly becomes damp as I raise my face to the water and stand still. The cold is helping me to stop worrying about my feelings, and I desperately need it. I have never hurt like this before because of a girl.

The ringing of my phone snaps me out of my trance. Shivering and with trembling hands, I turn off the water and step out of the shower. Then I dry my hands with a small towel, pick up my phone, and press it to my ear.

“Hey, Mom.” My teeth clatter so hard that I clench my jaw tight.

“Hey,” she sighs. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” I lie.

“Roma, can you please stop pretending? You’re thousands of kilometers away from me, but I know when you’re not alright. Always,” Mom says. “I woke up this morning to an avalanche of messages from your aunt and cousins. I read the article, Synok⁠1.”

“Unfortunately, I read it too.” I climb back into the shower stall and sit on the floor, staring in front of me and not seeing anything. “I’m so sorry, Mom. If I’d known Nevaeh was going to reveal everything I told her, I would’ve never opened up to her. She betrayed me just to gain more traction on her little article.”

Mom is silent, and my eyes veil with unwelcome tears. I press my fist to my mouth and wait for my mom to say something. Is she disappointed in me? Does she resent me for being such a pussy that I couldn’t keep my mouth shut?

“I’m glad you opened up to her.” What? “It was killing you inside, Roma, and you didn’t even see it. You were allowing darkness to consume you, keeping everything to yourself. Nevaeh helped you let it out, to let go of some of your grief. Your guilt. Your hate for yourself. She helped you.”

“Mom, did you even read it?”

“I did, and honestly, I couldn’t care less about it. It’s our tragedy. It’s our family’s past. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“People pity me,” I hiss. “I don’t deserve that. They should despise me.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why should they despise you? You lost your brother. Your father was terrible to you, but you still⁠—”

“Because you don’t know what I said to Maks the last time I talked to him. If you did, you would hate me too.”

“I would never hate you, Roma! Stop talking nonsense.”

I laugh bitterly. “That night, he asked me to go with him to see Alisa. He told me he needed me. Do you want to know what I told him, Mom? I laughed in his face and said he would be fine on his own. I was so angry with him for running to see that girl that I ignored how miserable he looked. I walked away and went back to party with our friends while my brother climbed into the car with Kirill and fucking died.” The words spill out of my mouth, no longer hidden, and my chest tenses. “That’s what I did, Mom. I betrayed my twin, and I deserve this life.”

“Roma…” Mom mumbles. “Why did you never tell me about this before?”

“Because I knew you’d hate me, just like my father did. And I just…I couldn’t…”

“I could never hate you,” Mom says, her voice cracking. “I can’t. You’re only human, and we all make mistakes. We all say things we don’t mean, believe that we’ve made the right decision and then discover we were wrong. It’s all a part of life.” A sob bolts out of my throat, and I cover my mouth with my palm. “You were an emotional teenager who thought his brother was making a mistake. You wanted the best for Maksim, and you never thought that was Alisa. I finally understand what’s been gnawing at you all these years, but it’s not your fault. Maks didn’t die because of you. Your words didn’t lead him to get into the car. He would’ve gone to see her anyway. It’s not your fault.”

“Mom…” I choke on my words, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“It’s not your fault, Roma. Please, Synok, listen to me. We’re not responsible for other people’s actions, even if they are our family. You loved your brother. Maks was your entire world, just like you were for him. My beautiful boys, always standing up for each other and being best friends, sharing the same goals and dreams. It’s unfair and absolutely gut-wrenching that he died so young, and I know you’ll never fully recover because losing him was like losing part of you. But I need you…I’m begging you, Roma, please live. Please stop exhausting yourself with this guilt. It’s not your burden to carry. It never was.”

Sitting on the shower floor, I cry. My tears are hot and bitter. I bite the inside of my cheek, pressing the phone harder to my ear. “Nevaeh said I should’ve told you about it a long time ago. She was sure you would understand.”

“She’s a good girl, Roma, and she makes you happy. I haven’t seen you so full of joy in years. You started to heal because of her. You smiled so much more, laughed and joked around whenever we talked.”

“It hurts so fucking much that she betrayed my trust.” I pause; my shoulders are shaking uncontrollably. “Why does it hurt so much, Mom?”

“Because you love her,” Mom murmurs. “And it’s not just a silly infatuation; this love is real, Roma. It can even mend the broken pieces of your soul. You need to hold her close and never let her go.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “I left her. I took my things and left her.”

“Roma!” Mom gasps loudly. I can just imagine her clutching her heart, something she always does when she’s nervous. “That was wrong. You need to learn how to forgive—yourself and others.”

“How can I forgive her if she can’t even explain why she did it? I asked her, and she pretended to be surprised. As if she had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Did you give her a chance to explain?”

“I asked her⁠—”

“No, I’m not asking you what you said to her. I’m asking what she told you.”

I tell Mom what happened after I came home, and how stunned Nevaeh was when I accused her of spilling my secrets. The image of her on my couch with the toy I gave her pressed to her chest won’t leave my mind. She looked so damn confused; those blue eyes full of tears were staring at me with so much hurt. It aggravated me more than anything. Instead of admitting what she’d done or even trying to justify it somehow, she kept acting like she did nothing wrong.

“At least she didn’t say anything about Alisa, or about my talk with Maksim. Instead, she just exposed my problems with alcohol and how my father died,” I mutter. Then I instantly fall quiet. Something about what I said catches me off guard, but my mind is too fucked up to think clearly now.

“You can’t cut people out of your life just because they made a mistake. Especially not Nevaeh.”

“Because I love her?” I smirk. My voice is still hoarse.

“Yes, because you love her and because you’ll regret not giving your relationship another chance,” Mom says softly. “Some people deserve a second chance, Roma, and you deserve one more than anyone I know.”

“I’ll think about it,” I promise, meaning it with all my soul.

“Good. Now, where are you staying?” Mom asks, and I tell her how I asked Clay if I could stay at his house and how he said yes without trying to interrogate me about what happened.

Talking to my mom calms me down, and when I finally hang up, I don’t feel as hopeless as I did before. I put my phone back on the bathroom counter, get back into the shower, and turn on the hot water. Standing under the stream, I let it envelop me, warming my skin and my insides.

Tomorrow’s a new day. I hope it’s a better one.

I stare at my phone, rereading Nevaeh’s texts over and over. She says that wasn’t the article she wrote, that she knows what happened and can explain it. And my stupid heart gets full of hope in an instant. It beats stronger, reminding me of a steady drum rhythm.

She asks me to come home, and damn if I don’t want to rush there immediately. God, I got it bad. So fucking bad, I want to laugh at myself. I’m hopeless.

Pocketing my phone in my jeans, I pull on my hoodie and glance at myself in the mirror. I ruffle my hair with my hand, trying to tame it and instantly giving up. Only a haircut will fix this mess. Grabbing my leather jacket, I leave the room and head down the stairs. The noise of something that sounds like a football game catches my attention, and I walk into the living room.

Clay sits on the couch, a controller in his hand. On his huge TV screen, there’s a football pitch, and players in Real Madrid and Barcelona kits are moving around.

“You play FIFA?”

“Going somewhere?” he asks, not even bothering to reply.

“Yeah, I need to meet someone.”

“Just out of curiosity, is this someone a blonde girl with big blue eyes and puffy lips? Petite and super hot?”

“I’d really appreciate it if you kept your eyes off of my wife,” I grit, and Clay bursts out laughing.

“Aw, I played you like a kid, Pashkevich,” he says between fits of laughter. “Go, meet your wife. Looks like you’ll be moving back home in no time”

“Fuck off, Rodgers,” I huff, turning on my heel and sauntering to the front door. And yet, a smile blooms on my lips, because he might be right.

The sound of the engine reverberates through my body, making my skin hum as I move faster and faster through traffic. The ride brings me joy, a happy smile plastered to my face. The freeway isn’t overloaded with cars, and I think I might be home in less than fifteen minutes. It’s sunny out, and I speed up even more, leaning forward as I near another turn.

The screeching of tires makes me tense. I dip my chin slightly and notice a car heading straight at me after another one slammed into its right side.

Well…fuck.

The revving of the engine becomes deafening as I speed up, praying with everything I have I’ll make it out of the path of the vehicle. My body is rigid as I concentrate all my attention on the road ahead of me.

Barely escaping the oncoming car, I speed up even more. And just when I think I’m safe, I realize that it’s an illusion. Losing control of the motorcycle, I try my hardest to stay seated. There’s only one way…and fuck, I hate it. My nerves are like chords when I manage to lay my Kawasaki down and slide along with it. The scraping sounds of metal and the screeching of tires are all I hear, but when my body drags along the bike, a pained groan comes out of my parted lips.

Fucking hell, it hurts everywhere.

My motorcycle comes to a controlled stop, and I rise to my feet, pressing my palm to my ribs. I’m breathing hard as my eyes roam over the road. Cars are stopping, and people are running over to check on me and the driver of the car that was coming at me. Its hood is wedged into a pole. There are skid marks on the road from my Kawasaki, and broken glass from one of the mirrors, but other than that, it seems fine. I feel okay. Except for my ribs, but that might be a simple bruise.

I turn my head, and everything in me stills. Even my heart stops beating. With shaking hands, I take off my helmet and peer at the space between two cars, where I just saw my brother. No one is there, and my knees give out. I take a few steps forward, then slump onto my ass on the curb.

Did Maksim save me?

1 Сынок — Son