All or Something

  Carolina Rebels

  Book 9

  Lindsay Paige

  All or Something

  A Carolina Rebels Novella

  Copyright © 2023 by Lindsay Paige

  * * *

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Lindsay Paige

  One

  Sergey

  My focus is so intent on giving my studio apartment a good scrubbing that I nearly miss the banging on my door and someone shouting from the other side. With an irritated sigh, I storm over and fling it open.

  “Finally. What are you doing in here?” Scotty asks as he steps inside.

  “Cleaning.”

  His nose wrinkles as the smell of bleach hits him. “Why?”

  “Because. Why are you here?” I ask, grabbing him a beer and tossing it his way.

  “I was nearby and Sylvie called. Long story short, we wanted to invite you over today. The girls, particularly, are anxious to see you. You haven't been over in a bit.”

  “I'll think about it.” Ignoring him, I return to my cleaning. I'm almost done.

  “What? Are you too busy cleaning? That's what you want me to tell my girls? Take a break. The dust will be here tomorrow.”

  I appreciate Scotty's friendship. He doesn't understand what it has done for me, what his family has done for me, during this time without my wife who isn't my wife.

  “Serge,” he starts, and I can tell he's about to start in on me.

  But a knock interrupts him before he can. I huff, even more irritated now. If another teammate is on the other side of this door, I'm going to punch someone. When I open it, my heart stops and falls to the ground. It can’t be. The cleaning products must have me hallucinating.

  “Galina,” I breathe. Could she really be here? My wife stands with her luggage next to her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Either give me a baby or give me a divorce,” she demands, her tone full of annoyance.

  Behind me, Scotty chokes on his beer and coughs. Right. He’s here. At least that confirms Galina really is standing in my doorway.

  Galina peers around me. “Oh, I'm sorry, Sergey. I didn't realize you had company. Hello,” she says to him with a tight smile and a small wave.

  He waves and says hi back. His eyes bounce back and forth between us. Not knowing what exactly to do, I grab her luggage and bring it inside.

  “Galina, this is my teammate, Scotty. Scott, this is my wife, Galina.”

  His eyes nearly burst as he reaches out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you. We'll have to get together at some point, so you can meet my wife and kids.” He clears his throat. “I'll talk to you later, Serge.” He slaps me on the back as he walks past me and lets himself out.

  “So, this is your place?” she says a moment after he's gone as she gives my apartment a once-over.

  “I'm sorry.” I know she is used to grandeur and fancy things. This apartment doesn't even have a proper bedroom.

  Galina turns to face me with a smile. “I like it. Simple.” She glances down at her luggage. “Where should I put my things?”

  “You're staying here?”

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “You want me to stay at a hotel?”

  “Well, there's only one bed.”

  She waves a hand at the couch and plops down on it. “There's also a couch. Come sit; we have much to catch up on.”

  “Yes. You show up out of nowhere and demand a baby or a divorce? What the hell?” I take a seat next to her. It's crazy that she's actually here. My brain hasn't begun to wrap around the complications of this yet. It's so odd to see her after so long without her. My eyes drink her in over and over, looking for what's the same and what's different. “You look amazing, Galina.”

  She pushes her hair back behind her ear. It's an almost shy move, which is a bit of a wonderment because there isn't much that is shy about Galina. “You have a beard,” she says in response.

  I laugh. When she last saw me, I always kept my face clean-shaven. I'm sure it is startling for her to see me like this. “I can shave.” Why I'm offering to do such a thing for a wife who is a wife in name only, I don't know. But without a doubt, I’d do it if she wanted me to.

  She shakes her head. “I don't want to change you.” She looks around again. “How do you like it here? In this state? With this team?”

  “Better than the last on both accounts.” We do keep in touch. Sparsely, but in touch. “How are you?”

  “Good. I actually have a job here in the States now.” Galina's shoulders sag as she clasps her hands in her lap. Her entire demeanor changes. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know she’s circling back to her earlier demand.

  “I can't take it anymore, Sergey; that's why I came. We’re married, but we’re not. My parents haven’t given me a moment’s peace since we went our separate ways. We need to resolve this one way or another.” She gives me a quick glance, but then focuses on her hands again. “But there is something I must tell you before we go any further.” Her breaths have turned shaky. Between that and her words, I brace myself. Something bad is surely coming. “I feel that you have the right to know that...that I was with someone else.”

  I clutch the edge of the couch cushion. All this time, I remained faithful to our vows, sham of a marriage or not. It’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I’ve done it. Yet she was out with someone else. My sense of betrayal is unwarranted, I know, but it’s there all the same.

  Our parents insisted on pairing us together with a matchmaker all those years ago. While I wasn't thrilled about it, I also didn't mind all that much because I'd always had a crush on Galina. We even hung out some and fooled around a little. Our parents setting us up, to me, meant I might have a real chance with Galina. She’d have to give me the time of day; she’d have to spend more time with me. I always just hoped that by doing so would mean she would like me back and it could grow from there.

  But Galina? She was abhorred by the idea of her parents wanting to pick her husband. I could have been a king and she still wouldn't want me. That's how much she hated the idea. She didn't dislike me; she disliked what I represented, and that was enough for her to sever ties with me aside from the occasional text.

  But me? I hoped she'd come around. Letting go of that hope was futile. Even now, there’s hope. She’s here, after all. Seeing her on our wedding day, grumpy and upset, she was still the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. That image haunts me frequently.

  “We were separated,” she says, bringing me back to the present.

  “Is that why you demand a divorce? Because of this other person?” I should have tried harder during our time apart to bring us together. I’ve lost her already.

  “No,” she says with a shake of her head. Relief fills me. “Have you heard from her parents lately?”

  Muparents? This is the second time she’s mentioned them and I’m not sure why. “No,” I reply.

  Galina smiles. “Of course you wouldn't. Why bother Mr. Success with the troubles of our fake marriage?” She sighs. “Ever since I moved here, they have it in their heads that I've come to my senses and have come here for you. They keep talking about how I need to step up, perform my wifely duties,” her nose scrunches in distaste, “and worst of all, it's apparently time to have a baby. I’m tired of hearing it, Sergey. So, either help me give them a baby or give me a divorce so I can move on with my life.”

  “Why don't you have a baby with the person you've found?”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Because that would cause more trouble and,” she pauses briefly, “he's not the kind of man you want to have a baby with. I’m not with him anymore either.”

  That makes me want to ask all kinds of questions, but I don't. It doesn’t feel like it’s my place to ask more. “So divorce or a baby? Those are our only options?” My brows furrow. Those can’t be our only options, can they? Does Galina truly think either of those will solve her problems? “You honestly want to raise a baby alone?” The idea makes me cringe. I'll divorce her before it comes to that. I won't allow her to do such a thing and certainly not with my child.

  “I just want this to be over with, Sergey,” she says with a heavy, defeated sigh.

  “I guess I'll see if I can find a lawyer to draw up the paperwork for us.” That seems to be the only option remaining. My heart breaks a little at the thought. There’s something about Galina that is hard to let go of
. She never wanted to get married, but she did. This is the first time she’s asked for an out. How can I not give it to her?

  Galina blinks in surprise, as if she wasn't actually expecting me to do as she wanted. I start to stand, deciding to take Scotty up on his offer because a little space from Galina sounds nice right about now. My attraction to her has only grown; it’s obvious her stance remains unchanged. I'm stopped in my tracks when Galina reaches out and grabs my wedding band that has slipped out of my shirt, exposing itself when I leaned forward.

  “You wear it still?” she breathes in surprise.

  As I glance over her, I see that she wears a necklace, but it's of the decorative sort. The ring on her finger is not the band I gave her.

  “I take my vows seriously, Galina, even if the marriage isn't.”

  She releases her hold on my necklace.

  “I'm heading out,” I say. She's been back in my life less than twenty minutes and I'm already walking away from her. She already has my emotions in a tangled mess. Am I even a man? “Make yourself at home.” Hurrying out, I leave before I can worry any more about this situation I've found myself in.

  Before long, I find myself knocking at Scotty's door. Sylvia's surprise is annoying.

  “Where's the baby?”

  “Uh, Sergey, why are you here?”

  “Baby, Sylvia. Where?”

  She watches me nervously. “He's upstairs asleep. Lucky for you, the girls are in the backyard.”

  I brush past her and hurry up the steps. I love her girls, but babies don't talk. That's what I'd like right now. She follows after me. “Serge, I really don't think you should bother him; I just got him down.” She huffs when I carefully pick up her sleeping baby. It pisses Sylvia off, but she never stops me either. Mostly because not once have I ever managed to wake the babe up. I take a seat in the rocking chair and she sits in the small recliner.

  “What are you doing here, Serge?” she whispers. “Shouldn't you be reuniting with your wife?” Good to know that Scotty came back and told his wife about what happened at my place. “Is everything okay?” When I still don't respond to her, she sighs. “I feel like you're going to steal my baby.”

  That makes me smile. “I wouldn't,” I promise.

  “Why do you like him so much?” she asks me curiously.

  “Seth doesn't talk back to me; he just listens,” I admit. Why not? The world is falling apart. Who cares anymore?

  “I can listen.”

  I laugh quietly, doing my best not to jostle the boy. “You gossip.”

  “I can keep secrets.”

  “Can't you leave me alone?”

  “I would, but normally, you come over, spend some time with my girls, and then ask to see Seth. Serge, you literally stormed into my house and took my baby out of his crib. I know you well enough by now to know that sometimes, for whatever reason, you spend time with my kids to feel better. Seth may be a good listener, but maybe you need someone to talk to. Do you want me to get Scott?”

  I shake my head. Sylvia allows us to sit in silence for a few minutes until she can't take it anymore.

  “What happened with you and your wife?” she asks gently.

  Most people don't know I even have a wife. I take my privacy to the extreme sometimes. Because of that, it makes discussing my issues even more difficult. But I'm at a loss right now. Holding baby Seth has helped me relax some. It’s hard to hold tension in when holding a baby,

  “My wife and I were set up by our parents. She hated the idea so much, but couldn't manage to find a way out of it. I liked her, so I didn't mind. But the moment we were married, she skipped out. She wanted nothing to do with me or our marriage. I had hockey to deal with by that point, so we easily went our separate ways. We keep in touch here and there. But now she's here for either a divorce or a baby because our parents are bothering her about that.”

  Sylvia's eyes widen and she clutches at her chest. “Maybe you two can actually give it a shot.”

  That makes me smile. I would like that, but I don’t see it happening.

  “I doubt Galina wants that. Besides, I already told her I would give her the divorce.”

  “Love always finds a way, Sergey.” She stands and pats my shoulder. “Stay as long as you need with Seth, but you are going home to your wife.”

  Two

  Galina

  I don't know what I'm doing here. Or if I should stay. My head and heart have been a constant jumble for years. I wouldn't know what was up if there was a neon sign pointing in that direction. My stomach grumbles. One thing I can do right now is cook something for dinner. I don't think Sergey would mind. But maybe I should put away some of my things.

  I don't even know if he'll want me to stay, though. Curious nonetheless, I find that Sergey has three empty drawers and space in the closet. Has that space always been empty? Did he reserve that for me in the event I might show up one day? Has he been waiting for me to return all this time? What kind of man does that? Our marriage doesn't even mean anything. Scared to death that I'm yet again making the wrong choice, I hurry and unpack my things before tucking my luggage away in the closet. I'm not sure how long I'm staying, but might as well be comfortable while I'm here.

  Then with a little hesitancy, I look through his kitchen to see what I can put together for dinner. Grabbing something here and something there, I slowly begin to put together a meal while feeling thoroughly out of place. As if I'm an intruder. I hate popping into Sergey’s life like this, but I need peace. Coming to see him with a set of demands seems like the only way to achieve that. Already the tightness that has been clenching my throat seems to be loosening.

  My mind returns to when I told Sergey I’d found comfort from someone else. It was only a fling, but the look on Sergey's face when I told him and to see that he actually wears his ring astonished me. It may just be on a necklace around his neck, but it was more than I expected. My ring has been tucked away in a ring box for years. Sergey looked so betrayed to learn we weren't on the same level with the most basic of things. I can't say I blame him. He can’t blame me either, though. Our lives are entirely separate.

  He's made quite a nice home for himself. Even though we never truly lived as a married couple or behaved as one, he sent money to me every paycheck. He didn't have to do that, and it felt weird for him to do so. I never spent the money. It's been in a savings account ever since the first check came. I need to make sure I give that back to him.

  Now, I'm in his kitchen cooking dinner and our relationship is more of a mess than it was when we were first married. Or even when we first met. Sergey and I hung out together when we were younger. There was palpable chemistry then that led to some kissing and touching here and there. The chemistry smacked me in the face when he opened the door today. It seems to still linger in the air now, though he's not here; I'm trying to ignore it.

  However, once my parents told me he was the one I was to marry, it was like everything shut off between us. He was colored in a new light and one I didn't like at all. I couldn't find a way to wiggle out of the wedding, but thankfully, I found excuses not to leave with Sergey when his hockey career took off.

  Just as I plate my food, the door to his apartment opens. He walks back in, seemingly more relaxed. He stops short upon seeing me as if he forgot I was here.

  “I hope it's okay; I got hungry.”

  He nods, but doesn't move or say a word. An awkwardness and uneasiness hangs in the air between us.

  “Would you like some?” I ask.

  “Okay.”

  I fix him a plate and then walk around to the other side of the bar and sit down. After a moment, he sits next to me. I almost want to ask him where he went, but I'm not sure I have that privilege. Maybe I don’t even want to know.

  We eat in silence. No talking. Just the clinking of of silverware against plates. A second after Sergey finishes his meal, he looks at me full of conviction. “Divorce is off the table, Galina. So is a baby.” I open my mouth to object, but he raises his hand. “You know I've always cared about you and I know you hate being married to me, but we've never attempted to make it work. Don't you think we should try that first?”