Page 69 of Tainted Love

As I descend toward the ice, the game is already in full swing. Jerry had mentioned watching the game from the safety of a suite, but I need to be in the midst of the excitement with the crowd. The roar echoes off the walls, creating a deafening and exhilarating atmosphere.

Every seat is filled, and the energy in the arena is contagious. I sink into my seat, take a deep breath, and become fully immersed in the excitement surrounding me. The smell of popcorn and hot dogs wafts through the air, mixing with the sound of skates gliding across the ice. All worries melt away as I lose myself in the excitement.

I take a moment to observe those around me and notice the sea of oversized hockey jerseys engulfing almost everyone. The fabric hangs loosely off their bodies, creating a comical sight that makes me suppress a smile. Even the women’s and children’s sizes are too big, accentuating their small frames endearingly and humorously.

I jump up and head toward the concessions area, where merchandise is sold. As I browse the limited selection of jerseys, hats, and beanies, my eyes light up with inspiration. I rush back to my seat and excitedly pull out my sketch pad from my bag, eager to capture and develop some potential designs.

As I sit lost in thought, my ears are suddenly filled with a loud roar of cheers. The sound is followed by a loud synchronized “AHHH” and more cheering, drawing my attention to the ice in front of me.

I look up just in time to see Taz, his face contorted in determination, racing toward the goal after having stolen the puck in a pass. He’s not a defenseman, so his chances to get breakaways are always exciting.

His relentless drive is evident as he fires a shot at the net, and the puck sails just to the right of the goalie’s glove for a goal. Fast-paced and relentless. It’s a hockey strategy for him and a powerful metaphor for his life—never giving up despite any initial setbacks or failures.

The rink vibrates with energy as the crowd cheers, their excitement contagious and impossible to resist. I’m mesmerized as I watch him in his element. His skill and athleticism are undeniably attractive, though I hate to admit it, and when he skates by me and tosses the puck in my direction, I can’t help but smile about how some things never change.

With heavy exhaustion weighing down my limbs, I finally collapse onto the plush bed in the luxurious hotel room near the arena. The team has certainly spared no expense in putting me up here. As soon as I arrived, the first thing I did after a long, hot shower was send the outfit I wore today out to be laundered. It was in no shape to wear again - crumpled and stained with sweat after a long day of meetings, traveling, and a hockey game. When I packed earlier this morning, it was only for an overnight trip. But now, faced with potentially staying longer, I’ll have to make some creative wardrobe choices or go shopping while I’m here.

My mind is still buzzing with thoughts and ideas for my pitch on Friday. Despite feeling confident about its direction, there’s still a lot of work to do. It’s almost impossible to shut off my brain, especially in this strange place where Michael lives. Watching him play tonight was a surreal experience. He moves with such confident grace that some may mistake it for arrogance. But I know Taz, and I understand how his mind works.

Growing up, he never felt good enough. As a result, he carries a chip on his shoulder, always skating with something to prove—mostly to himself.

But he doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He’s always been good enough, even when I couldn’t make him believe it. That thought causes my chest to ache, so I push it out of my head, take a few breaths, and try to get some sleep.

Chapter 30

“Linger”

Taz - Age 24, 1994

The guys were eager to head out and continue the celebrations after our win. Normally, I would have been right there with them, but I just couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm for some reason.

As I rushed out of the locker room after the game, I was disappointed when I realized Sascha had already left. I had hoped she would not only stay to watch me play but also want to spend time together afterward. Her sudden absence left me unsure of what to do next, so I went home, paced for about thirty minutes, and then found myself in the car driving aimlessly.

The weather is just getting cold, and we’ve had some snow dusting the top of the mountains, but the roads are clear now. With no direction in mind, I speed faster than I should until I find myself handing my keys to the valet at Sascha’s hotel.

It’s after midnight, and I have no business being here, but my body confidently carries me through the lobby anyway. The young woman at the front desk looks disinterested until her gaze turns up and meets my own. Suddenly, her eyes widen with something: recognition or attraction.

“Can I help you?” she asks with a flirty smile and a little flip of her hair.

I can use this situation to my advantage. “Yes, I’m here to see a friend. Can you please direct me to Sascha Bell’s room?”

She looks momentarily disappointed but then recovers. “I’m sorry. I can’t give out that information.”

Guess it’s time to lay it on. I lean on the desk and drop my voice an octave. “I understand it’s policy. But do you think you could do me a favor? Just this once?” I punctuate my request with a wink.

Judging by the smile that plays on her lips and the blush that creeps up her neck, my flirtation hits the intended target. She bites her lip and looks around, ensuring no one is watching. After a few taps on her computer screen, she leans over and whispers, “Room 813.”

“My gratitude knows no bounds,” I exclaim with a wide, toothy smile as I stride confidently across the lobby toward the shiny elevator doors. My stiff, uncomfortable suit has been discarded in favor of a cozy pair of worn jeans, a soft sweatshirt, and my trusty Nikes. With a sense of anticipation, I press the button that will whisk me up to the eighth floor. As I wait, I tuck my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and contemplate whether she will allow me into her room.

The elevator reaches its destination, and I step out. The hallway stretches before me, endless rows of identical doors lining the walls. My feet carry me closer and closer to room 813, my heart racing with every step. I pause and gaze at the number on the door, my mind swirling with doubts and second thoughts. This was a reckless move. I know it deep down. It’s late, and Sascha has to work in the morning. But my gut tells me she isn’t sleeping right now. She never could when something was weighing on her mind.

My fist collides with the door three times, the wood reverberating against my knuckles. I strain to hear any sign of life from within, but all is silent. With growing impatience, I knock again in a familiar pattern she will recognize.

A muffled curse reaches my ears from behind the door, and I can’t help but grin. I know she’s on her way to answer my persistent summons.

As the door creaks open, I am met with a blazing pair of green eyes. They are filled with anger and determination, leaving no doubt that she is wide awake.

“You remembered,” I say with a teasing smirk.