Page 184 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“That’s shit, man.”

“I’m trying to give her space, but I really want to smash her door down and force her hand.”

“I probably wouldn’t recommend that,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“I don’t know how to make this better,” I confess. “I’ve never done any of this before. I’m well out of my depth.”

“But you want her, right? She’s the one?”

“Yeah. She’s the one. I’ve known that since I was twelve.”

His brows pinch in confusion. “Then you need to show her.”

“How? She won’t talk to me.”

“I don’t know. But all the books have grand gestures for a reason.”

“You’re saying that I need to get her to a game and then get on one knee in the middle of the ice?”

“Uh…maybe not exactly that.”

“Because I would,” I assure him.

“I don’t doubt that. I don’t know what’s gone down, but she needs to see that she can trust you. That you’re the man she thought you were a week ago.”

I nod as if he’s just given me the best piece of advice, but when he leaves the room, I quickly realize that he hasn’t helped at all—I’m still clueless.

Pulling my cell from my pocket, I try something new.

If Sienna won’t reply, maybe someone close to her will. And maybe, just maybe, she might have an idea about how I can win back her best friend.

Calvin: Is she okay?

I stare at my cell for a few minutes, waiting for those ticks to change color. But nothing happens. I get it—the salon is busy. We’re racing toward the holidays, and everyone wants to look their best. But that doesn’t help me right now.

Calvin: I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to give her space, but it’s killing me. I need to talk to her.

I’m still staring at my screen when Darcy pokes his head into the room.

“We doing this or not?”

“Yeah, we’re doing this,” I mutter before shoving my phone in my locker.

Every time someone walks into the weight room, I’m expecting them to tell me Grady wants to talk to me. But it never comes, and while the gossip continues, there’s still no announcement. And worse than that, there’s still no reply from Bea.

It’s not until I’m leaving the arena later that evening that my cell finally buzzes with the message I’ve been waiting on.

Bea: She’s okay. You’re doing the right thing. She just needs time to process. She misses you, too, though. Don’t think she’s forgotten about you.

“My girl’s smart; you should listen to her,” Rett says, having clearly read it over my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I mumble as we head toward our cars.

“We’re going to the Fractured Compass, right?” Linc shouts.

A round of agreement follows, and despite wanting to go home and wallow some more, I allow myself to be dragged along by my friends.

Calvin: How long do I have to wait? It’s killing me.