not leaving you.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead, holding it until he was certain his voice was steady. “I love you. I’ve never said that to a girlfriend and I don’t use the words lightly.” He shifted back to study her reaction, heart hitching at the tears shimmering in her eyes. “Nothing is going to change that.”
She sniffed, blew out a breath, blinking rapidly before a rough chuckle tumbled out. “Damn you, Henrik.” She wiped at her eyes and dug out a tissue. “You’re not supposed to make me cry.”
His smile grew from deep within his chest, heart bursting with the depth of his commitment to her and the love he swore he’d cherish along with her. Her false anger was just one more thing for her to focus on instead of the threatening cloud hanging over her.
“Jacqui?” a nurse called from an open doorway.
Jacqui stood, stuffed the tissue in her pocket, movements precise.
He rose, enfolding her in his arms for a last hug. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Her single nod was firm, determination coming over her expression when she smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
She went to the nurse, back straight, chin up. The door closed and he stood there, thoughts churning through his own actions. His convictions had solidified the second he’d opened his door that morning to find Jacqui standing there. Her cancer threat was only one more reason to back up his motives, but it wasn’t the driving factor.
He’d have to ensure she understood that. That everyone did.
A glance around the waiting room showed a possible glimpse into his—their—future. A woman with a scarf covering her head. A man forcing down a chalky-looking drink like Jacqui had downed an hour ago. More people waiting, worried, wondering what their future held.
A smile formed at the thought of her indignation over him missing a practice or ruining his career. She didn’t care about the clout his pro hockey player status brought. No, she was truly worried about him and the impact her illness had on others.
He left their coats on the chairs and strode into the hallway. The building was fairly empty, a lot of the offices closed for the long holiday weekend. He found a quiet spot by a window overlooking the parking lot and started in on his calls.
His agent answered on the third ring, a clipped “Roller” offered as greeting.
“Patrick.” Henrik took a deep breath, certainty filling him with a confidence he’d faked for so long it was shockingly powerful to have the real deal settle in. “We need to set up a meeting with the Glaciers. Tomorrow.”
“Wait a minute.” The serious note from his agent was followed by a shuffling and muffled “excuse me.” Another round of background noise intruded before it faded away. “Okay,” Patrick came back, all business. “Is this about the fight? I haven’t heard of any unexpected fines coming down. Are the Glaciers reacting badly to it for some fucked-up reason?”
“No,” Henrik reassured him. His reflection peered back at him in the glass, a faint image of a man he was only starting to be proud of. He tucked his free hand in his pants pocket, pulse remarkably normal. “We need to define my retirement plans.”
“Your what?” The man’s sputtered exclamation only widened Henrik’s smile. “What are you talking about? There’s two years left on your contract.”
“I’m aware of that and it doesn’t matter. This will be my last season.”
“What?” The stunned shock came through the phone. “Now wait a minute. We need to talk about this. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever issues you’re having, we can work them out. You’re still strong, playing great. There is no reason for you to retire. If you’re unhappy with the Glaciers, I’ll get working on a trade. There are a lot of clubs who’d love to have you.”
“No.” The simple word was empowering. “This has nothing to do with the Glaciers organization. I’m very happy there. This is a personal decision.”
“Henrik.” The tone had switched to a pained plea with the use of his first name. Like most of the people who knew him through hockey, Patrick rarely used it. “Let’s talk about this. Tell me what’s going on.”
Patrick was a decent guy. He’d always respected Henrik’s demands when it’d come to contracts. He could’ve gotten more money—had had offers with more money—from other teams after his entry level contract had expired with the Glaciers, but Henrik’s allegiance to that team had already formed. He hadn’t