Page 183 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

Just because they’re putting Nash and the Vipers in the same sentence, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s speculation. There are plenty of teams that need to strengthen their back line as we move into the Christmas break. He’s going to have his pick.

I spend the rest of the day avoiding my cell—well, other than sending Sienna a good morning message and asking how she is, just in case she feels like replying to me today.

Apparently, she doesn’t, and I’m forced to continue giving her the space she’s asked for.

It’s been two days, and already my patience is running thin. But while Rett might have mocked my attempts to talk to her, I know that pushing her isn’t going to get me anywhere. When Sienna is ready to talk, to hear me out, she’ll let me know.

I hope.

The guys get back just after lunch, but they don’t hang around the arena. They’re all too desperate to get home, and while I don’t blame them, I can’t help but crave old times when we’d have hit up a bar first. I could use the distraction right now.

Instead, I find myself home alone, miserable, and losing myself in anxiety over my future, which, once again, I attempt to drown out with whiskey.

It’s not the healthiest way to deal with everything that’s happening in my life, but it’s the only way I know.

For the third day in a row, I wake with a hangover pounding at my temples, wishing that the past few days had never happened.

A week ago, life was good. I thought I had it all. Now, it feels like everything has shifted beneath me.

Rolling onto my side, I stare at the photo that’s still propped up against my nightstand.

I miss her.

It’s been three days, and I miss her so fucking bad.

She’s probably beneath me right now—so close, yet so fucking far away.

I grab my cell and write another message.

She still hasn’t replied to any of my previous ones, but I need her to know that I’m still thinking about her. That I’m waiting, and that I’ll wait for as long as she needs me to.

Calvin: Good morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well? I miss falling asleep with you in my arms and waking up with you still there.

My thumb hovers over the send button as I consider the fact that she might have blocked me and isn’t actually getting any of these messages.

I hit send. If she hasn’t, then I need her to know that she’s still my very first and last thought of the day. Even an impending trade can’t take that away from me.

Before rolling out of bed, I check the hockey sites for news. But while the rumors are still hot, nothing has been announced.

Maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he’ll end up on the East Coast, and we’ll get to see him less.

That seems a little too good to be true.

At least things seem a little more normal when I arrive at the arena and discover that almost everyone has beaten me here. There’s no longer silence in the dressing room; instead, there’s boisterous laughter following a successful road series.

“Hey, man,” Linc calls when I throw the door open and join them. “We missed you.”

“Obviously,” I deadpan, pulling on the Killer mask these guys all know a little too well.

I get pulled into conversations about their road games, and I try to focus on what they’re saying, I really do, but it’s harder than it should be.

Before long, Coach pokes his head into the room and demands that everyone hit the ice.

One by one, they file out, but Monroe lingers.

“How are you really doing?” he asks, holding my eyes.

“Fucking shit,” I confess, dragging my fingers through my hair. “She won’t talk to me, and I don’t know what to do.”