Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Mick holds out his drink, and I knock mine against it.
“How long do you think you’ll need to continue shadowing him?” Mick asks. “As much as I love that this plan has worked, it’s not the greatest message for the team to have our PR manager out of action on one player. It also weakens some of the argument that Voyjik is a changed man.”
That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?
If my professional self were to answer, it would be easy. Oskar understands the position he’s in; he’s putting in the effort, and with all his focus currently on hockey anyway, there’s no real reason for me to keep this up. I should be loosening the reins, pulling back, giving him freedom to prove he can do this on his own.
The emotional, private side of me says fuck that. I’m not done with him yet.
The scary part is it’s not even entirely about the sex. Oskar hasn’t completely opened up to me yet, and I want him to. I want him smashed open like a walnut. I want him to break down that huge-ass barrier he surrounds himself with and let me in willingly.
I clear my throat as the pregame show starts and lift my voice above all the noise. “I’m being cautious. I think we should ride out the rest of this season, and then we can work out where to go from there.”
“I don’t know, Lane.” Mick’s eyebrows pull together. “We’ve got Emerson’s divorce that needs to be managed, and I wasn’t happy with how Carlov’s two-week ban was handled by Keerson. The sooner you’re back full-time, the better.”
“I disagree,” I bite back. I shouldn’t have, but I can’t stop my mouth.
A heavy silence falls over us, despite the roar in the arena all around, and it’s like I can feel his disapproval from here. His annoyance at being argued with.
“It’s probably best you’re free for playoffs,” Mick says. “We’ll need all hands on deck to make sure the team is focused and talked about for the right reasons. Voyjik isn’t our only player.”
“Could have fooled me.”
We hold stares for a moment, because while I knew we were getting to that point, I’d told myself I could drag this out until the end of the season. I’d counted on having that time. A few weeks isn’t enough.
Enough time for what I’m not really sure. I just know the weight sitting on my chest is making me feel reckless.
Mick shifts. “I’m glad we agree. Game’s starting.”
I turn to the ice and pretend to concentrate when really, I’m trying to devise a way for Oskar to get enough attention that he’s not in trouble but still clearly needs me. And how fucked-up is that? He’s finally taking the steps everyone wants him to, and I’m sitting here selfishly wanting to jeopardize that to keep him all to myself.
It’s not like I can tell Mick the only reason he’s stopped sleeping around is because he’s doing it with me instead, can I? I’d actually like to keep my job.
No. There are no options. Oskar wants me as much out of his business as Mick does, no matter how much he might enjoy being railed by me. Sex is easy to come by for Oskar Voyjik, and I’d foolishly hoped I could offer him something else.
Now, it’s too late.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, as the game gets started.
My scotch is forgotten, and instead, I give Oskar my full attention. I let myself watch him shamelessly, drinking in every powerful move, every steal, every time he rams another player into the boards. He belongs out there. It’s beautiful.
The stress of playoffs might be building, but you’d never know it with the way he moves. It’s like he can do no wrong. With the first line change, Chicago sneaks one past our goalie, but as soon as our first line returns, Oskar sets up the perfect assist, allowing Aleks to sink one in the back of the net.
They hug, along with half of the team, but my stare only follows them. The reminder of their kiss causes this pang in my chest, and I clench my jaw hard against it.
Just a few weeks.
Once I’m out of the picture, Oskar can do whatever and whoever he likes. Though with Aleks’s divorce, I’m sure I can interfere between those two, at least for a little longer. My lips hitch in a half smile as I picture all the ways I can cockblock Oskar without him even knowing.
Game passes quickly below, and we’re approaching the end of the first period with the score tied up at one apiece when Chicago takes off on a breakaway. Oskar flies after Rostel, pushing fast to catch up, Aleks right behind him. Rostel makes the shot—my heart hits my throat—but the puck rebounds off the crossbar.