Anna Sugden - A Perfect Trade

As the seconds passed, the pain got worse until she was clutching her belly. Finally, she could bear it no more. She forced herself to go upstairs. Her heart thudded heavily with each step. Once in the bathroom, tears spilled down her cheeks.

Jenny didn’t need to see the blood to know the IVF had failed.

CHAPTER THREE

THE LETTER HAD looked like a harmless piece of fan mail.

Tru’s hand shook slightly as he smoothed the scrunched sheet of paper. There had been nothing special about the handwriting. Even the Boston return address had seemed innocent.

As innocent as a puck bouncing up your stick and into your face, at ninety miles an hour, and just as damn painful.

He tossed the letter onto his kitchen table and paced the room.

Why now?

As if Tru didn’t have enough uncertainty in his life. Trade rumors had exploded with the announcement of the new general manager. Callum Hardshaw was a known rebuilder, with a reputation for clearing out deadwood fast. According to most sites and blogs, Tru was at the top of that pile of logs. Not the news he’d wanted or needed, with the Draft only weeks away, followed by free agency.

Now this letter.

After so many years of silence, what had prompted his father to write, asking to meet? And why to Tru? Ike was the eldest, it would have made more sense to reach out to him.

Tru halted, staring down at the lined, white paper as if it could answer his questions. But it offered no more explanation than the few lines he’d read a hundred times.

“Did you think I’d be a softer touch?” His voice echoed in the empty apartment.

An all-too-familiar guilt tightened his shoulders. He’d had to bear the pain of keeping quiet about his father’s infidelity, then the anguish of knowing the action he’d taken had blown his family apart.

His gaze lifted to the family snapshot on the refrigerator. His mother looked tiny, almost fragile, next to her broad-shouldered, towering sons. But Tru knew the strength behind the delicate appearance. The determination that had kept her going when her husband had walked out, leaving her with four young boys; one still an infant. The stubbornness that had enabled her to keep her family together no matter how hard things got.

A second photo showed his mother laughing with Jake’s mom. How would things have turned out if Tina and Gio Badoletti hadn’t stepped in to help?

The doorbell rang, followed almost immediately by several loud knocks.

The cavalry. Sort of.

Jake pushed past Tru as soon as he opened the door. His blue eyes scanned the apartment. “What’s up?”

Now his friend was here, Tru wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing by calling him earlier. He’d needed to share this with someone. As close as one of his brothers—they’d grown up together—Jake knew all about what had happened between his parents.

Well, not all.

“Thanks for coming, bro,” he hedged, leading the way back to the kitchen. “Can I get you a coffee? Beer?”

“You said it was urgent.” Jake shot him a disbelieving look. “I broke the speed limit getting here and you’re playing freaking hostess?”

“You speeding is unusual, how?”

“Funny, Truman. Don’t give up your day job.”

Tru tried not to squirm under the all-star defenseman’s penetrating gaze. Normally, it wouldn’t have affected him, but with his emotions in turmoil, Tru’s nerves were raw.

He grabbed the letter and tossed it to his friend. “See for yourself.”

Jake groaned. “You called me over here to read some puck bunny’s fantasy?”

His friend’s words sent a dart of pain to Tru’s chest. An image of one particular puck bunny sprang to mind.

He hadn’t seen Jenny since her boss’s collapse. Tru figured she had to know he’d inquired after Sturridge several times, yet she hadn’t reached out to him. He shouldn’t be surprised or hurt; it would take more than keeping her company in the E.R. to regain her trust.

Worse, memories of the past had plagued him over the past ten days. Now, with this letter, he felt as if he was in some weird kind of hellish purgatory—the misdeeds of his life being held up before him so punishment could be exacted.

Hadn’t he already paid the price—over and over again?

“Is this serious?” Jake’s disbelief mirrored Tru’s initial reaction to the letter.

Tru tried to sound nonchalant. “Crazy, huh?”

“What’s your old man after? Does he need money?”

Jake’s assumption that Radek Jelinek had an ulterior motive stung, even though Tru had thought the same thing. “Why would he need money? He ran off with that Boston heiress.”

“Maybe she dumped him. Maybe he cheated on her, like he did your mom.”

“Which is why he wouldn’t approach us for money.”

“You don’t think it’s strange he wants to meet his rich hockey-star son?”

“Maybe he wants to reconnect with his kids.” The words escaped before Tru could stop them.

Jake shook his head sadly, his apologetic expression acknowledging the unspoken emotion roiling through Tru. “Why didn’t he get in touch before? He could’ve contacted you guys at any time over the past twenty-plus years. Why now?”

“Perhaps he’s sick and wants to see us all before it’s too late.” God, he sounded desperate. Pathetic.

“Possible.”

Tru slumped into a chair. “But you doubt it.”

“I think he’d have mentioned a terminal illness.”

“He might not have wanted to play the sympathy card.”

Jake sighed and sat next to him. “You’re giving your old man way too much credit.”

His friend was right. Perhaps Tru was eager to believe the best of his father because he’d always hoped he’d have a chance to put things right for his family one day. Because, since he’d opened the envelope, he’d wanted the letter to be that chance.

“He’s still my father,” Tru said softly. “He deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

“Does he? He didn’t care that much about you guys when he was around and until now he made no attempt to reach any of you for all these years. This sudden change of heart stinks. I’d be wary about his motives, bro.”

Tru hated to admit it, but Jake was right. He sighed with frustration. “My mind has been working overtime trying to figure out what to do.”

“That’s your problem. You shouldn’t think.”

Tru punched Jake in the arm. “Like your nickname’s Einstein.”

“Hey, I can use my brain.” Jake hit him back, harder.

Chairs scraped as the two men jumped up and squared off.

“We all saw what using your brain did. You almost lost Maggie with your stupid ideas.”

The mention of Jake’s wife brought a big goofy smile to his friend’s face. “I was smart enough to go after her and win her in the end.”

“With a little help from your friends.”

“I know.” Raising his hands in mock surrender, Jake sat back down. “You didn’t do so well with Melanie, though.”

“I tried.” Not hard enough. He should feel worse; couldn’t explain why he didn’t. “Probably for the best.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Jake made it sound like definitely.

Tru went to the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of soft drinks. Passing one to Jake, he popped the top on his and took a long swig, before grabbing a chair and straddling it.

The letter lay on the table between them. Demanding his attention. Demanding action.

They both stared at it. The silence lengthened.

“Are you going to tell your mom?” Jake asked finally.

Tru shook his head. “Not until I’ve checked my dad out. I don’t want her upset unnecessarily. If he turns out to be on the level, I’ll consider telling her then.”

“Ike may disagree with you.”