Page 7 of Puck Me Twice Over

Who knows? If I play this right, maybe she’ll walk away with a different sort of memory. Still, rushing her feels…wrong right now.

“You don’t have to be sorry, sweetness. What happened tonight was not your fault.” I twisted a damp strand of hair around my fingers and tugged gently, enough to draw her attention before I released her and walked away, heading for the kitchen. Throwing the lights on, I pointed toward the bathroom. “Most of what you need is in there. Hot water, towels… I’ll get you something to wear. Are you hungry? Need more coffee, something stronger? I won’t judge you.”

Flick stayed right where she stood, staring across the giant room that was glassed on all sides, overlooking the city that was traditionally covered in snow for half the year. Tonight the weather decided to take the boy aquarium metaphor to new heights, bringing the water to the streets instead. Rain battered the windows as she stared. Her single person hug tightened as she wrapped her arms closer about herself. Then her gaze redirected to my giant bed, and the dirty penny dropped.

I fished around for a glass and ice in the kitchen, ignoring the tightening in my chest. “Welcome to my life, sweetness.” Filling the glass with water, I pushed my spartan offering across the bare counter to her. “I’m not home an awful lot.” Actually, this was just one of my residences, but we didn’t need to go into that right now. She was freaked out enough already.

Flick finally looked at me. “Are we—” She closed her mouth and tried again. “Is there another place for…” She looked across the counter at me with eyes that were hopeful, wary, and filled with the sort of scared need that left me wanting to hold her, back the fuck up to give her space, and kiss her quiet all at once.

But there were times to play a defensive game and times to go on the offense. This was one of the latter, even if I suspected she wasn't going to like what I had to say.

“There’s only one bed, Flick.” I braced my forearms on the counter, arching my back to stretch my vertebrae out as cramps that I’d been ignoring started to set in with a fucking vengeance. Tonight hadn’t exactly been one for my usual post-game routine, but I wasn’t arguing. Tomorrow, I’d be sore as fuck, and I’d deal with that then. Right now, she needed to know where I stood. “And after the game I’ve had? I’m sleeping right here. With you.”

Her pretty lips parted. Lips I remembered kissing years ago. Damn, she was lucky I put furniture between us just now.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman and offer me the bed?” She peered up through her lashes and didn’t even flinch.

My breath hitched even as my lower back spasmed. Are you flirting with me, Flick? Tell me I’m fucking dreaming.

A low laugh built in my chest. “Is that what you need, sweetness? Cause I’m pretty sure my Alaskan King is big enough for both of us.”

Her lips twitched, and wide eyes met mine when she figured out I wasn't backing down. “Shower?”

I jerked my head toward the single hall that housed the wet areas. “That way, sweetness.” Thank Christ I had one back at the stadium before I found her in the rain. No chimera was fit for human consumption without a whole lotta soap.

Flick placed the half-filled cup on the counter with extreme care and tip-toed her way toward the darkened hall, feeling about for the light. Once that turned on she disappeared, sparing me a single, enigmatic glance over her shoulder.

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut and the water turned on, I dropped my head to my arms and released a low groan. What the hell was I doing? This was the woman—then girl—who ran away from me years ago, right as my life started to pick up. The high school sweetheart who I fantasized about still no matter how I tried to banish her from my mind.

Thank fuck it was this house we came to, not the cabin. Though maybe later… I swallowed at the thought, right before the memories deluged my mind, like the rain that slammed the windows of my condo outside.

Back then when we were together, talent scouts attended my games. An early offer came in. The Chimeras started sniffing around. The literal definition of my dream team. It would be another seven years before I earned that coveted contract, but earn it, I did.

And the whole time I thought I’d have Felicity Murphy by my side. In my bed. The woman I wanted to share those same dreams with every damn night before we fell asleep together wrapped in each other’s arms.

The real dream.

That was, right up until the day I was ready to ask her to be my date for prom, and she gave me a look that told me the future I predicted for us wouldn’t be happening after all.

She walked away that night and I still had no idea why.

Which was why telling her that she would be staying here tonight, in my bed with me, was a fucking terrible idea.

The water in the bathroom stopped running. I raised my head, ignored the twinge in my back that I deserved for not stretching, and limped my way to my closet. Yanking out a long sleeved tee that looked big enough to pass as a dress for Flick seemed like the right thing to do and the best way to get back into her good graces. I pulled a pair of sweats out just in case she wanted extra cover, and socks that could be long enough to pass for leg warmers on her.

I’d bundled the whole lot in my arms in a neat pile by the time I made my way along the short hall and knocked on the bathroom door.

“I brought you clothes,” I called through the barrier, and pushed down on the handle, sticking only my arm through with the clothing in my hand.

The bundled weight only lasted a moment before she liberated them. Light fingers returned to squeeze my wrist. I guessed that was both my thank you note and my signal to leave. I retracted my hand and pulled the door shut behind myself, stripping my shirt over my head. My mind swam with the image of the naked girl behind the door I didn't dare open, both the metaphorical sort as well as the physical one. I slammed both shut, promising myself that the cleaned up Chimeras image had to stick tonight.

My soggy, achy ass had a damn fine laugh at that.

Keepin’ it real, Vandevere. She hadn’t wanted me back then. What the hell had changed in the last decade that Felicity Murphy would want me now?

Answer: I wasn’t a high school weed full of hopes and dreams anymore. In the last few years I'd become one of the highest paid pro hockey players in the league. The condo she stood in might be small, but it was one of a handful I owned. I’d never had a head for stocks and shit, but real estate? My brain understood that, so that’s what I spent my cash on, not having anyone decent in my life to spoil.

No one came close, not after her. A shitty love story, maybe, but it was true.