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

The coffee Roman made for me is already cold, but I continue to hold the mug between my palms as if it will warm me up. Or maybe knock some sense into me. Because the things he said about what happened last night make my head spin.

How could I be so reckless? Drinking until I was almost in a blackout…what was I thinking? That my friend would take care of me? I have so many questions for myself, but I don’t know the answers. Except one. It was naivety in its purest form. Something bad could’ve happened if it wasn’t for the man sitting next to me on the couch.

“I’m not sure if a thank you will be enough,” I mutter, looking up from my lap and focusing on Roman. “But thank you for looking out for me, for taking care of my drunk ass, and for letting me sleep in your bed. Thank you.”

He smirks. “Stop thanking me. I didn’t do anything special.”

“You’re giving me a headache.” Shaking my head, I look around his living room. High ceilings and big windows fill the room with natural light, accentuating the light colors of the interior. White blends with charcoal and blue tones, making the darker elements stand out—the navy couch we’re sitting on with white plush pillows, black shelves with books and some awards, the huge TV covering most of the wall in front of the couch. It looks simple, but special details here and there, like the small wooden coffee table, are proof of a designer’s touch. I like it here.

“What are you planning to do now?” His question brings my attention back to him. Those deep turquoise eyes stare at me with such intensity, I really get the feeling he sees right through me. “I mean, your friend said you need to get your stuff out of his place.”

Prolonging the moment so I don’t have to answer him, I finish my coffee and put the empty mug on the table beside his. With a shrug, I say, “Well, it’s a good thing I took a week off from work. Otherwise, I’d have to call in sick with a hangover. I guess I probably need to get my stuff out of Sam’s place, and then I’ll book a hotel. Or call someone else to let me crash with them. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. It’s just temporary, while I look for a place of my own.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, seemingly lost in his thoughts as his fingers drum on the back of the couch. I use this little moment to study his face. A strong, chiseled jawline covered in thick blond stubble gives him a roughed-up look, just like the prominent dark circles under his eyes. I notice the paleness of his skin and how drawn-out his features are. As pathetic as it sounds, I’ve looked for him at every game I attended with Angie, admiring how handsome he is every single time. Now, he doesn’t look like someone who gets a lot of sleep, and I can’t help but wonder why.

He clears his throat, and I meet his gaze. “Last night, as I listened to Crawford talk about his plans to go to Mexico, it made me realize I want to go somewhere too. Take a little trip,” he explains slowly, raking his fingers through his hair. “I was looking at flights and hotels this morning, just before you woke up. I want to leave on Friday and come back on Monday, so if you want, you can stay here while you’re looking for an apartment. I don’t mind.”

My jaw drops, and I gape at Roman in total bewilderment. He can’t be serious. “You don’t even know me.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He cocks an eyebrow, props his elbow on the couch, and leans his head on his fist. My mind obligingly flashes a memory from the night I met him for the first time, and it causes my heart to gallop and my palms to become sweaty. He’s still the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. “You’re my friend’s friend.”

I chuckle. “Well, yeah, but you found me at the club barely conscious.”

“Are you trying to tell me that’s normal for you?” Roman asks with an absolutely bored expression. I swear it looks like an emotionless mask; not even a single muscle on his face is moving.

“Of course not!”

“Then what’s the problem? I’ll leave tomorrow around lunch, and you’ll have my apartment to yourself for three days.”

I look away and focus on the Thunders jersey with number 24 on the back, hanging on the wall near the window. It’s not Roman’s number, and why is there an M instead of an R before his last name?

“Nevaeh?” My name leaving his lips envelopes me; it’s deep and soothing, engulfing my whole body in warmth and bringing my attention back to him. “I promise I won’t bother you if you stay. You won’t even notice me.”

I tip my head to the side, watching him in silence. With a deep breath, I say, “Thank you.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” Roman asks, and I nod, unable to keep myself from grinning.

His eyes sparkle, lighting up his features like little sunrays peeking through a cloudy sky. A smile lifts his full lips, mirroring mine, and I find myself enthralled by him yet again. Since we met a year ago, he’s been distant with me. I don’t remember him smiling at me or saying anything except for a little small talk when he couldn’t avoid it. I’m not even sure if he finds me attractive. Roman’s indifference is something I’m used to, so now I’m cataloging his smiling face deep in my mind so I can revisit it any time I want. Just because I like looking at him.

“So, what are you planning to do now, roommate?” he teases, making me burst out laughing. “I’ll get the guest room ready for you, but if you need my help with anything else, just ask.”

“First I need to go to Sam’s place for my stuff. And then⁠—”

“You’re not going to that asshole’s place alone.” Roman’s playfulness instantly disappears as he pins me with his stare. I should probably be annoyed by the commanding tone of his voice, but instead my skin heats up, and the back of my neck feels hot. I trap my bottom lip between my teeth, fidgeting in place and ignoring the fire in my lower abdomen. “I’ll go with you.”

The air between us becomes charged as I hold his gaze. The atmosphere is closing in on me, but not in an uncomfortable way. This need I feel for him is…madness.

Jumping to my feet, I barely avoid knocking my knee into the coffee table. “We can leave in twenty minutes,” I mumble and beeline to his bedroom, where I left my clothes.

Space. Lots and lots of space. That’s what I need to clear my head of this man.

“I didn’t ask before, but curiosity is clearly getting the best of me,” Roman says, glancing at me, his hand on the steering wheel of his BMW X4. In the white tee he’s wearing, his tattoos are on full display, but I force myself not to stare, remembering his reaction to my question about his SpongeBob tattoo. “How do you know this Sam guy?”

“We were friends in high school, and then we kinda lost touch until I met him at the magazine a year ago. He’s a freelancer, writes sports articles for us from time to time,” I reply, hiding my fingers in my hair and slowly threading them through it. “We ran into each other in the office yesterday, and I let it slip that I’m staying at a hotel while I look for an apartment. Sam offered to let me stay at his place, since it’s close to the office and he has a spare room…and I agreed.”

“Did he ever hit on you before?” Roman’s jaw is set hard, and his eyebrows pinch together as he peers at me and stops at a traffic light. I put my hands in my lap, silently wishing for the moment when I can change into something more comfortable than this minidress I wore to the club.

“Never. Besides, when we met last year I was already with Travis. I introduced them to each other, and they were always friendly whenever we met. Sam was always respectful to me. I have no idea why it changed last night.”

“Maybe because you’re single now.”

“Well, he knows I broke…” I trail off, cursing myself in my head. My breakup with Trav isn’t something I want to talk about with Roman, ever. Damn. “It’s complicated, and Sam knew that. I never thought he’d try to take advantage of me.”

Roman’s eyes coast over my face, and then he looks away and focuses on the road again. “People’s lives are full of lies and pretense. So many hide behind fake facades, ones they built to tuck away their demons, and you’ll never know what’s behind the mask unless they let you see. Trust is overrated, because no one is ever one hundred percent honest. In my experience, I can name like five people who I’d really call a friend. Is Sam really your friend?”

I shake my head. “In school he was. Now? Hardly. I made a huge mistake, and in my experience…I should’ve known better.” As I meet Roman’s eyes, his words play on repeat in my head. With an arched brow, I ask, “And you? Are you honest with your friends?”

He contemplates me for a moment, and then he shrugs. “I am.” He looks back ahead of him as he parks near Sam’s building. “But that doesn’t mean they know everything.”

I knock on Sam’s door and take a step back, bumping into Roman’s chest. A rush of blinding energy pierces through me, and I awkwardly shift to stand beside him. My cheeks feel warm as I throw him a subtle glance. Hands hidden in his pockets, he props his shoulder against the wall. His legs, in light blue jeans, are crossed at his ankles, like nothing in this world can frazzle him. Our eyes meet, and the ghost of a smile lifts his lips for the shortest moment, and then it’s gone. He pulls one hand out of his pocket and knocks again, way louder than I did.

We wait in silence until the door finally opens. Sam’s eyes land on me, moving all the way down my legs. A smug smirk forms on his face, and for the first time in a while, I ball my hands into fists. “Nev? I’m so glad to see you. I didn’t know what to think⁠—”

Roman clears his throat, and Sam’s gaze flicks to him. His smile transforms into a scowl, and his lips purse together tightly. He folds his arms in front of him and sticks out his chest in an attempt to look bigger. “What do you want?” he asks Roman.

“I’m here to get my things,” I say. I take a step forward, trying to get past Sam. It’s so tempting to tell him that he looks ridiculous thinking he can intimidate Roman, who is bigger and taller than him, but I keep my thoughts to myself. All I want is to get my stuff and be done with this man.

Sam’s uncertain eyes run from me to Roman. With a resigned sigh, he steps back. I breeze past him and go straight to the room he showed me yesterday. My suitcase sits by the bed, right where I left it. Thank God I didn’t bring any boxes with me. Bending down, I pull out the suitcase handle, walk out of the room, and head back to the front door.

Roman and Sam are facing each other in silence; the only sound comes from Sam’s foot tapping on the floor. I step closer, and my eyes instantly find Roman’s.

He tilts his chin up. “You good?” I nod, and he switches his attention back to Sam. “You’re lucky I got to you before you touched her.”

“Fuck off, dude. I didn’t force her to drink; it was all her,” my former friend exclaims snidely, as I move past him out of the apartment. “Everyone in school knew she was always DTF if she was drinking.”

My jaw drops, and I wheel to my right, too stunned to say anything. Sam’s smiling face makes me sick to my stomach, and a wave of nausea washes over me. The guy I considered a friend just called me a whore, not even trying to deny what he was after.

“DTF?” Roman asks, the crease between his eyebrows becoming deeper.

“Down to fuck,” I whisper, the ache in my chest increasing. The longer I stare at Sam, the harder it becomes for me to breathe. Tears burn my eyes like acid.

The sound of a sharp hit rings through the air, followed by a man’s whimpers. I blink away my unshed tears as I watch Sam press his palm to his mouth.

“The fuck did you do that for?” he cries.

“Watch your mouth next time.” Roman shrugs, his thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I have a friend who was at the club last night too, and he would confirm that we saw you taking advantage of a drunk girl. I don’t think anyone would want to work with a sex offender.”

Sam huffs, taking his palm away from his busted bottom lip. Emotionless, I stare at him. Not even pity crosses my mind. What goes around comes around, and he got what he deserves. He glares at Roman for a moment longer, and then he shuts the door of his apartment with a thud, leaving us alone.

I wipe away an unwelcome tear with my thumb and tighten my grip on the the suitcase handle. Turning to my right, I’m ready to leave, but a warm palm covering mine makes me pause. Roman is already by my side, gently taking the suitcase from me.

“Thank you,” I say quietly as we head to the stairwell.

“Let’s get you out of here, roommate.” Roman smiles at me, and we start to descend the stairs.