What's Left Of Me (The Firebird Trilogy Book 2) Read Online Free

out is how to tell you how much I love you.”
    Her throat grew thick and in it, her pulse ticked out a rapid rhythm. A career built on words, and she was the one lacking sufficient ability to express her love. “I think you just did.”
    His cheeks dimpled. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep while we can.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    Alex
     
    “Pass!” Alex shouted from the stands. The Chippewa Icemen were leading by one goal with nine minutes left in the third period, and an insurance goal could potentially put the game away for them. “Right winger’s open!”
    Telling Stephanie how to play was what he considered good practice for coaching his own team, even if she despised him doing it. A little extra coaching never hurt anyone. He’d already spent much of his time studying video of the past season’s special teams, the main weakness that had locked the Gladiators out of a playoff spot. Both their power play and penalty kill, essential for a deep playoff run, had dwelled at the bottom of the league for the better part of the season. He had signed up for coaching training and development and read several improvement books as well. The next step was to get out on the ice himself. He had concentrated his recent workouts on lower-body strength training in preparation—lunges, squats, one-leg dead lifts, and ankle band exercises. While it wasn’t similar to actually playing, he’d spend enough time on the ice that maximum ankle strength was critical.
    The Icemen set up in perfect formation for a cycle that should have netted them a goal. From the point, since no shooting lane was available to her, Stephanie whacked the puck to her right-winger, who passed it to the center. She was rubbing her chest. Coughing. The puck sailed past her and into the neutral zone. She dropped to her knees.
    “Steph!” Alex leaped over seats and possibly several people, jumped down to the bench, and hurled the gate open, his ankle screaming. He skidded across the ice but righted himself before toppling into a face-plant. She was waving off teammates and the medic by the time he reached her.
    He knelt beside her and removed her helmet. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
    “I’m fine. Just short of breath.” She pounded a glove against her chest.
    “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
    “You’re overreacting. I just need to sit for a minute.”
    “ Nyet . Jessica, can you take her to the locker room so she can change?”
    “Of course. Come on, Steph.” Jessica gripped her hand and hoisted her up, then skated with her to the gate and walked her down the tunnel. Alex gathered her helmet and stick and waited for her at the rink entrance.
    “This is ridiculous,” she said on the way to the city’s best hospital. Nothing less for her, even if he had to drive across town.
    “My wife collapsing on the ice is hardly ridiculous.”
    “I didn’t collapse. I just…lost my breath after that pass.”
    “Do you suppose that happens often to healthy twenty-seven-year-old women who have been playing hockey their whole lives?”
    She sulked.
    “If it’s nothing, then no harm done. But I’d rather be safe than sorry, especially with that cough you’ve had.” He pulled up to the valet window, handed over his keys, and helped Stephanie out of the car, into the ER. “Excuse me,” he said to the unit nurse. “My wife was playing hockey and started having trouble breathing.”
    “Your name, ma’am?”
    “Stephanie Hartwell.”
    The nurse gave Alex a split-second sideways glance, eyebrows lowered and lips tight. In return, he offered a teeth-baring smile. Fuck her and her silent judgments. She pressed a large green button that opened the door to the exam rooms. “Right this way.”
    Stephanie shot him a look: We don’t have to wait?
    He looked back at the people slumped in the waiting room’s chairs. Wounds, illnesses, probably more serious than Stephanie’s issue. People whose names did not serve as