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“Not anymore it isn’t.” Gaze fixed on the torn scrap of notebook paper held in place by a black pepper grinder, he wouldn’t let himself look at it until he’d dealt with the call. “If you want to keep repping me for the occasional speaking appearance or ad deal that may come through in the future, you’re going to have to spread the word with the media that I’m out of hockey for good. Do we understand one another?”
He regretted not taking a more aggressive stand on the issue earlier in the summer when it might have kept Lark from being hassled. But he was done being the face of any franchise. Done being the last guy to leave the locker room so the media had all the quotes they needed to file their stories. Done sacrificing everything—including his personal life—for the sake of the game.
“Loud and clear,” Dexter said finally, his tone thoughtful. “I’ll share your intentions on my end. But keep in mind it hasn’t been me working the media all week to garner public support for your ex-wife’s court case.”
The comment found its mark.
“True enough. That’s on me.” He’d used the media when he thought it might help Lark, but now that he knew how vehemently she opposed those tactics, he wouldn’t be tempted to leverage that tool again. “I’ve got to go now, Dex. I’m expecting a visit from you next spring when I’ve got my bison on the property. We’ll catch up.”
He tried to end on a positive note, not wanting to burn bridges to make his point. Losing Lark once had made him realize he needed to work harder to be a better man.
“For you, I might take a whole day off,” his agent mused before they disconnected.
Gibson might have felt relieved to have gotten his message across since it meant he’d at last made peace with retiring. He had a new career to look forward to, and whether it was a financial success straight out of the gate didn’t matter. Or rather, he couldn’t allow it to matter. He needed a path in life that wasn’t predicated on society’s metrics for success.
He intended to find something that would bring him some happiness and a sense of purpose so he could rewire all the negative habits of his brain to associate success with the stat sheets. From now on, he wasn’t going to be tracking goals and assists or number of all-star appearances.
Too bad he’d learned how to do those things just in time for Lark to leave him nothing but a note on his kitchen counter.
Sliding the paper out from under the pepper grinder, he unfolded it and read,
I asked Fleur and Drake to pick me up on the way to court this morning. I’m behind on my share of maid of honor duties, so I’ll be busy this week, but I won’t forget our date.
No mention of their night together. No hearts or smiles to indicate any warmth of feeling for what they’d shared. And yes, call him ten kinds of sucker for caring that she hadn’t drawn any damn smiles in the margins.
He cursed softly, swiping a hand over his unshaven jaw. The kitchen felt too big and impersonal with only him standing in it, like all the warmth of the day had faded when Lark walked out of his house.
Again.
She wanted space from him, obviously. He’d given it to her the first time she’d run off when they’d been married, and he’d regretted it. Now? He wasn’t sure he could let her go again.
Gritting his teeth, he stalked toward the bathroom to shower. He had a court trial to attend.
From her seat between her sisters in the second row of the Routt County courtroom, Lark had a clear view of Jessamyn’s fiancé, Ryder Wakefield, as he shared his testimony for the record.
She discreetly checked her smart watch for messages while Ryder related some background on himself. Still no word from Gibson. Not that she expected any given the cowardly way she’d left his cabin early that morning. By dawn, with her body thoroughly sated, her heart tender and hopeful, she’d known she didn’t have the emotional reserves to paste on an “everything’s fine” morning-after smile. So she’d called Fleur and crossed her fingers Drake would know the location of Gibson’s cabin to retrieve her.
And while Lark had been relieved to slip out unheard, she still felt like a first-class heel for not being able to face Gibson after all they’d shared. Even now her body ached pleasantly from his attentions. Too bad the twinges in her chest were far from pleasant.
Straining to ignore the feelings, Lark looked to Ryder on the stand. His story was compelling, even as it revealed the very worst of her father’s character. She’d heard secondhand about Ryder’s presence in a search and rescue mission on a mountain peak after Mateo Barclay’s then-girlfriend had been critically injured. But the tale was even more upsetting to hear from Ryder’s point of view now.
Mateo had been frustrated with the girlfriend who couldn’t hold her own on skis and had explained to Ryder that he “preferred strong women who could keep up.” That alone made Lark feel ill—not only because that was the mindset of the man who’d raised her, but also because of all she’d learned as a counselor about the way a parent’s biased gender views could undermine a child’s sense of self. Yet, Ryder wasn’t done.
While the Barclay sisters held their collective breath for the rest of the testimony, Jessamyn reached to hold Lark’s hand. Surprised, she glanced to her left to see a tear slide down her sibling’s cheek, a reminder that Jessamyn had striven to be the “strong woman” in their father’s eyes for nearly a decade after Fleur and Lark had quit trying to please him. For the first time, she saw Jessamyn’s journey through a therapist’s eyes instead of a sister’s. Lark knew all too well the way an adult child could continue seeking approval without being aware of how damaging it could be when that approval would never be given. She guessed that same sort of need for approval had driven Gibson for most of his career too, not that he’d ever said as much.
As for Jessamyn, had the pricey education and career opportunities she had received ever made up for the love she hadn’t gotten?
Squeezing Jessamyn’s hands in hers, Lark reached to take Fleur’s palm in her other. Braced together, they listened as Ryder continued.
On the stand, Ryder cleared his throat, his eyes seeking his fiancée’s before he went on. “Mateo said that’s why he left his wife when Jennifer Barclay began to struggle with depression. He viewed that as weak.”
Lark felt a fierce stab of relief that her mother hadn’t attended the trial, even as Mateo’s lawyer interrupted Ryder to remind the court that his client had likely been suffering from shock that day. The attorney had already tried twice to have the statement suppressed on the grounds that Ryder had been serving in an EMS capacity that day, and that Mateo’s remarks were subject to doctor-patient confidentiality. The judge, thankfully, had not agreed.
While the legal representatives argued, Lark heard a murmur in the back of the courtroom. Turning, she caught sight of Gibson slipping into a seat at the rear of the room.
“Gibson’s here,” Fleur observed quietly in her ear.
As if Lark didn’t have every sense attuned to the man at all times.
