Page 46 of Diary from an Inked Throne

If we could trade anyone, it would be X, but I could admit the spectators did seem to love him.

Who we couldn’t afford to trade was French. We might not have been in the pros and playing for the Stanley Cup, but that didn’t mean we were playing at the recreational level either. If we wanted this team to actually be good enough to make money someday, then we needed guys like French to stick around so the wins piled up and the sponsors came knocking.

I sighed heavily, focusing on the man who seemed like he wanted to do a whole lot more than just poke me in the chest. “How much is it going to take to get you to stay?”

His mouth dropped open. “Is that how you fix all your problems? By throwing your check book at them?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, mostly.”

Not all though. Because if I could have brought James home with money, I would have happily gone bankrupt to do it. My chest ached just thinking about him.

French shook his head. “You’re unbelievable. I don’t want to play for this shitty team, Guerra! This shitty team that has no leadership, no prospects, no fucking hope of making it big.”

There was a muttering of complaints from his teammates, and to French’s credit, he did cringe over his shoulder at them. “I’m sorry, guys. I like you all. I really fucking do, and none of this is your fault. Just like it’s not mine.” He glared at me and Lynx again. “Place all the blame squarely on their shoulders, where it belongs.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. “The world thought I was dead, French. For all intents and purposes, I was. Hockey was the last thing on my mind.”

It was the truth, but it was the wrong thing to say to him.

French lost it. “Well, good for you!” he shouted. “I’m so glad you have something else in your life! But some of us don’t!”

Lynx moved between us, holding one hand out toward me in a stop motion and mirroring it in French’s direction. “Listen, nobody needs to get traded. We’ve had some rough weeks.”

“Months,” French spat.

Lynx nodded in agreement. “Okay, that’s fair. This season is a write-off. But we’ll fix this. We’ll get the team back on track. Get some new players to replace the ones who quit, and we’ll talk to the sponsors. We’ll hold a press conference and set everything right. Luca and I are back now, and we can get into the routine again.”

I ground my molars together.

Because I was pretty sure none of that was going to happen. Not when James wasn’t here. We’d promised Nyah we wouldn’t leave again, and clearly Lynx was taking that to heart.

But I couldn’t stay here for a hockey team.

And I couldn’t stay here solely for Nyah either.

Because I’d meant it when I’d tattooed James’s name on my skin.

He’d already become a piece of my heart, and staying here in Saint View, having to stare into Nyah’s eyes, knowing it was my fault our son wasn’t here, was too much for me to bear.

15

NYAH

Dear Diary,

I didn’t know a single video could save me and destroy me.

Both beds now occupying Luca’s room were cold when I woke up from an afternoon nap. I blinked in the gloom of the rainy, overcast day, trying to clear my vision and groped around the bed, searching for Dax or Lynx or Luca.

Or for James.

Only to be reminded I didn’t have any of them.

My heartbeat spiked, and a muggy sweat broke out along my spine. I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped my lungs, the panic racing through my system.

Luca stuck his head out of his enormous walk-in closet. “Hey. I’m here. You good?”

If it had been Lynx or Dax they would have come running over to me, eager to hold me until I calmed down. It had been Dax who’d lain beside me, night after night, and battled my nightmares with me.