Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
We have a light morning skate before the game tonight, then go over film, before Coach lets us go for what will be a long pregame nap for me.
I head home, warm up one of my prepped meals, then text Hayes while I eat.
Me: Just got home. About to take a nap before I head to the arena for the game tonight.
I really wish he could go. I’d love to see Hayes with a Pierce jersey on, sitting in the stands with my parents. Why does everything have to be so complicated? I hate that by being in the public eye, I have to worry about all these things when dating someone.
Hayes: Good luck.
He didn’t say good pucking luck, something he uses all the time now, if for no other reason than he knows I like it.
Me: I have you…you’re good pucking luck. That’s all I need.
Then, because I’m me, I add a peach and eggplant emoji. I swear, I’m lucky he’s willing to be with me.
I frown when he doesn’t respond right away, but Hayes is a busy guy. He doesn’t always text back immediately, so I finish eating, then go to bed, figuring he’ll message when he can.
When my alarm goes off, I pluck my cell off the nightstand and smile when I see a text from my man.
Hayes: Hockey players are weird.
It’s ridiculous that my chest gets fluttery just reading his message telling me how weird I am, but that’s the effect he has on me.
Me: Wish you could come. We fly out tonight for our last road trip before the playoffs, so I won’t get to see you for a while.
I climb out of bed and take a quick shower, then grab my packed bag and head to the arena. I arrive early because I have an appointment to get a pregame massage.
Before I know it, I’m in my spot on the ice, Volkov at center ice for the puck to drop.
It’s not a good game. Things are off, our communication is shit, but they get a penalty in the third, with a tied game. Volkov scores, bringing us up by one goal. We squeak by with an ugly win and a pissed-off coach, who doesn’t hesitate to tell us that we didn’t win tonight because of our talent, but because of luck. It doesn’t feel like the good kind either.
*
“How’d it go with Hayes’s friends last night?” Mads asks, sitting next to me on our flight. I’m fucking exhausted and can’t wait to get to Edmonton so I can climb into bed. Most of the team is passed out already, but Mads and I never sleep well on flights.
“I didn’t end up going.”
Mads’s brows pull together. “Why not?”
“Oh, just…wasn’t sure it’s a good idea until the end of the season. When Coach pulled me into his office, he talked to me about keeping my nose to the grindstone, how well I’ve been playing, how the team is counting on me…”
Mads frowns, and I must admit, it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. “What does that have to do with meeting Hayes’s friends?”
“Well, I don’t know them. What if they’re not who Hayes thinks they are and they end up outing us? Then we’d have this big media frenzy before the playoffs.” I smile because my reason totally makes sense, and now that Mads heard it, he’ll agree.
“How did Hayes feel about that?”
“He understood. Why wouldn’t he?” This conversation isn’t going how I thought it would.
Mads shrugs. “After what he’s been through with that cheating dickhead, I figure something like that must be sensitive for him. I’m sure Hayes wasn’t meeting the dickhead’s friends or anything like that. They didn’t have a normal relationship, and if it were me, I’d probably be feeling as if my partner didn’t want anyone to know about us.”
My heart sinks somewhere to my feet. “He was nervous when I virtually introduced the two of you, and he didn’t want me to meet his friends at first,” I try to defend myself, though my senses, which seemed to be in hiding until this moment, are now telling me I’m in the wrong.
“That’s true. And maybe he’s fine with it, but he changed his mind. He stepped out of his comfort zone for the two of you. He did something that probably made him nervous, only to have you agree and then change your mind at the last minute.”
I am.
An idiot.
“But that’s not… I didn’t mean…”
“Of course that’s not what you meant, but that doesn’t mean it’s not what he felt.” Mads shrugs. “I could be wrong.”
But he’s not wrong. It’s completely clear to me now, even though it wasn’t five minutes ago. I can understand why Hayes would feel that way. And I already know he has difficulty seeing himself as worthy, that he’s still surprised that I would want to be with him, and this is what I do.