Dominik (Arizona Vengeance 6)

I don’t need that shit.

Mrs. Osborne told me Willow came by the house—which I put up for sale without a second thought. I was headed back to Los Angeles after the Cup finals, and I wasn’t going to look back at Phoenix until the next season started. When that happened, I’d fly to some of the games and stay in a hotel.

I also heard Willow had gone to the owner’s box.

She had called and texted me repeatedly, but, in all honesty, I deleted the voice mails without listening and barely glanced at her texts. It was all the same thing. She wanted to talk so we could try to get back on track.

I just wanted to move forward without her.

But then she went radio silent. No more communications. She didn’t try to call or text me after we won the first game except for a simple congratulatory text that said nothing more than, Great win.

Of course, I hadn’t responded.

I didn’t hear from her the day after that, or the day after that, which was game two. When I moved back to the owner’s box, I half expected Willow to show back up. I was better prepared to face her at that point, and I was just going to tell her I’d like some space. Maybe I’d even suggest she give me until after the playoffs so I could keep focused on my team. I’m not even sure what I was hoping would happen, but truthfully… I was slightly disappointed when she didn’t show up.

I could do nothing more than consider it a sign that this was all working out the way it was supposed to.

And I fucking hated the way it was making me feel.

Now I have doubts.

Should I have talked to Willow? Perhaps given her a chance to process what I had asked of her? I know I caught her off guard, and I know she has fears. Should I have been more supportive rather than worried about how it affected me?

All are questions I have no answers to, and I’m afraid if I knew the real answers, I’d feel even more like shit than I already do.

So I press on.

I make myself concentrate on the playoffs, and I wait for my team to arrive at the hotel so I can be the first to welcome them off the bus.

My phone rings, startling me. I pull it from the inside pocket of my suit jacket, surprised to see Gray Brannon’s name.

I answer about as informally as one can to the general manager of the opposing team in the Cup finals. “Calling to cede victory to us?”

Gray laughs, a husky, smoky sound of amusement. “You’re adorable, Dominik. And while I’ll congratulate you on games one and two, I will promise you this right here and now… we’re taking the next two games.”

I don’t bother bantering since I know it’s a very real possibility.

But I laugh in response, because I like that we have this relationship now. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“Well, for one,” she says with businesslike efficiency, “I wanted to welcome you formally to Raleigh and see if there was anything you needed?”

Polite formalities are extended all the time between business owners and upper management. It’s part of the profession.

“I’m good,” I say as I see the bus pull up in front of the hotel. I rise from the chair I’d been occupying, then head toward the doors. “But I appreciate it.”

“I’d also like to extend an invitation to you and any guests of your choosing to sit in the owner’s box with me, my father, and some of the family members of the Cold Fury.”

Now this surprises me. There’s always a box made available for visiting owners and management, but never an offer to share the home team’s. Gray’s father also happens to be the Cold Fury’s owner.

She goes on to explain. “I really love how we worked out a deal to help Rafe Simmons with his father. It’s just a great example of how we can be opponents and still celebrate our humanity by coming together. I thought it would be cool if some of the families from the opposing teams could spend time together this evening. Yes, I know this is a competition and it could get heated, but I also sort of like the spirit of us being together even while battling each other.”

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. I reach the doors but hesitate before stepping out. Through the glass, I watch the bus doors open and the players start to disembark. I want to greet them, so I have to hurry this up. “Gray… I think that’s a phenomenal idea. I accept, and I’ll extend some invitations to a few of the family members I know are traveling here for tomorrow’s game. I’ll call you back.”