“So you gave it up? All that work? How’d you do it?”

Kate had asked herself the same question over and over. She had thrown away fifteen years of hard work. Fifteen years of sacrifice. Fifteen years of her identity. But each of those things were part of the reason she quit. Kate wanted to be normal. She’d never had a boyfriend, had never had a normal social life, or a normal family life for that matter, because of skating. Walking away from it was easier than she’d imagined.

“After not making the team, I let the dream die.”

David didn’t say anything but kept hold of her hands. At one point he brought one to his lips for a kiss.

“I enjoyed school, made friends, but I was still pretty broken. I did everything possible to put the fall out of my head. And then one day Richard walked into my life. I was young and inexperienced and vulnerable. Easy picking for a guy like him. I became the center of his universe. Or so I thought.”

“Why you?”

“My parents think money was the prime motivator. My family is very well off. But I don’t know if that’s the only reason he pursued me so relentlessly; there were a lot of girls on campus with more affluent families.” She drew a deep breath. “I think it was about control. He gets off on it. Richard is very charming when he wants to be. He’s also handsome and intelligent, and he read me like a book. I was smitten by our second cup of coffee.

“After a year or so, I started missing my skating, and I thought about going back—even contacted a coach. Richard discouraged me, saying I wouldn’t have time for him, and by that time, he was involved in every part of my life. I did what he wanted. I’ve had skates on maybe a half dozen times since I was twenty.”

“If you went back to skating, he’d lose control over you.”

“I thought I’d made my own choice. He wanted me to believe that. It was his way. Insidious. Manipulative.” She’d never told anyone as much as she was telling David, and as terrified as she was that he’d think she was too damaged, freedom came with every word. “But I loved him. And I wanted to make him happy, so I said yes when he proposed and then we eloped because my parents were so against it.” She chuckled at the irony. “I accused them of trying to control my life. I was so stupid.”

“You were young, not stupid,” David replied.

“No, I was stupid. He was so much older than me, and I figured he knew more about everything. But as time passed and I grew up, I felt caged. I should have seen the warning signs. Red flags should have been popping up when he wanted me to drop out of school and follow him to some job on the west coast. I didn’t go, obviously, but whenever I did new things or tried to take control, Richard put me down. Once we were married, he went from subtle to straight out intimidation.” Kate stopped to compose herself before continuing with the story.

“He landed a job at a college in upstate New York, teaching chemistry, and when I graduated I was admitted to the writing program at Cornell. God, I learned so much. But he taunted me, insulted me in front of his colleagues and friends, so I kept what I was doing to myself. I didn’t finish the program. He got a job here and we moved. When Laura was born, he controlled her, too, getting me help because I was too ‘incompetent’ to care for my own child.” Thinking about Laura brought the tears. “She got older and I was only working part time, so I wrote to give myself something else with meaning. I needed to feel, to have control over something.” Kate looked at the hands that held hers and used the strength he gave her to continue. “I never expected my writing to take off like it did. Richard hated my books, calling what I wrote garbage, making me use my maiden name and swearing me to secrecy.” Kate bit her lower lip. “He hated it until the money came in.”

“And then you couldn’t have done it without him, right?”

“Exactly. That’s what he’ll tell the court again. That I was too busy for Laura then, and that I’m too busy now. He came by the house a few weeks ago and that’s basically what he said.”

“He’s a real son of a bitch,” he said.

“I think that’s too good for him. Do you know he’s still never read one word of anything I’ve written?”

They paused, while the revelations of the past few moments swirled around them. “You know I’ll never treat you like that, don’t you?” he asked.

“It’s so ironic.” She looked in his eyes. “Richard poses as this suave intellectual, who’s nothing more than a thug, and you’re such a physical man, in a violent sport, but you’re so gentle and…”

He didn’t hesitate for a second, pulling her into his arms. She burrowed in, holding him tightly. David felt such contempt for Richard Nicholls he thought he might lose himself in it. Up until now, he’d kept the women in his life at arm’s length, but not her. Kate, he wanted to draw in, keep close. He couldn’t explain it, but as she held onto him, it was like she grabbed onto a piece of his heart and he knew he was never getting it back.

Chapter 10

‡

Kate rose early and looked out the window at the quiet city streets. They’d come back to bed after their late night meal and he’d made love to her again. Did real people live like this? Because Kate felt like she was caught up in a romance novel. David knew what she wanted, what she needed. Every time he touched her, it was like an electric charge going through her. But more than that, she had a feeling this relationship had the potential to be something life changing.

Looking at him, asleep in the big bed, Kate sighed. David’s dark hair lay tousled across his forehead and his muscular frame was relaxed, but still exuded power. He had a large bruise on his right side that had just started to fade, and his breathing was slow and steady. It made Kate wonder if he could be like that with her—slow and steady. If he could, they might have a chance.

She’d told him everything. Told him about her past, and how she’d gotten to this place. Once upon a time she was confident, competitive, and even a little reckless. But Richard had broken her spirit on many levels, and it was only now that Kate understood not only how far she’d come, but how far she needed to go. Her writing was so much more than the hobby she’d made it out to be. It had saved her. It gave her something to be proud of and it gave her an identity. It gave her the ability to be independent. David, on the other hand, was something else. Talking about her past made her realize he was helping her rediscover the person she used to be.

If ever there was a contradiction, David was it. He presented a fierce and violent presence on the ice, but with her he was warm, caring, and understanding. He personified the dumb jock in interviews, giving short, clichéd answers, but in reality he was intelligent and articulate. The most remarkable thing was this man, who had the most beautiful young women ready to throw themselves at him, was with her—a middle-aged divorcée with custody problems and a pending nervous breakdown.

She glanced outside again and saw the newspaper on the front stoop. She figured a cup of coffee and the paper was a good way to pass the time while David slept. He had another game that night and had to be at the arena around ten for a morning skate, which meant he still had a couple of hours to sleep.

Grabbing his robe, Kate headed downstairs so he could rest.

*

In the daylight, she could see that the kitchen opened onto a deck that led into a small yard. The house was the biggest surprise. She never expected him to have such a refined home. Everything was tasteful and classic. There were few frills, nothing trendy, and only one flat panel TV that she could see in the whole house.

His den gave her the clearest picture into his personality and his history. There were some pictures of his family, and one of him and some of his teammates when he played hockey for Canada in the last Olympics. But the most dramatic thing about the room was that it was filled, floor to ceiling, with books. All of her titles were there, which she found flattering, as well as volumes of history, philosophy, and literary fiction. He wrote notes in the margins; as she flipped through a copy of Thomas Paine’s The Rights of Man, she marveled at his insights. His degree from Boston College hung proudly on the wall, from which she discovered that David earned a B.A., summa cum laude, in history. This man who cracked heads on a nightly basis was a deep thinker, a scholar, and most definitely an enigma.