Page 57 of Tricky Puck

“That would be fantastic.” I say the words with uncharacteristic enthusiasm and no hesitation. Shit. I’ve missed having girlfriends to hang around with. Or anyone besides Link, and it gets lonely when he’s away.

“Perfect. I’ll text you the deets.”

I barely get back to my seat in time for the end of the game and then it’s time to says good bye to both families. We hug it out and I’m left with waiting for Link in the restricted area outside the locker room. This time I feel satisfaction when I show the security guard my credentials and he nods respectfully at me.

I almost stop and wait for an apology for the last time, but I realize he might not even remember me. Why would he? It looks like I’m one of a hundred people who come and go through here every game.

Maybe one of a thousand who tell him they’re with Link.

Shit. Why does that thought bother me so much?

Nineteen

LINK

Back at the condo after the game, we eat a stilted dinner of take-out pizza from Regina’s sitting at opposite ends of the couch watching a re-run of Saturday night live. We agree that meeting the families went well.

Maybe too well. The lie seemed too easy to pull off. I don’t dare say this out loud, but I do wonder if she thinks the same.

“What did you think of the game?” I finally bring up hockey which has strangely been absent from our sparse conversation. I’m used to post game replays with the guys. Maybe we should have gone out with them, but it didn’t seem like the right thing to do at the time, like maybe we had to regroup on the family meeting.

She turns to me. “Fishing for compliments?”

“No, but you haven’t said a word about the game and wasn’t that the whole point?”

“The game was fast. And I admit it, you were great. Congrats on the two goals.” She smiles like she means it and I feel that spark of satisfaction, but I push it aside. “You coach must be happy with you, right?”

I nod. She knows I’m having trouble with Coach since the fight with George went viral, which was predictable.

It doesn’t take long for my exhaustion to catch up with me and I say the words that is guaranteed to expose the topic that’s causing our uneasiness, the proverbial elephant in the room.

“I’m heading for bed.”

She looks at me like I’ve startled her and freezes for a beat, then she reverts to her wiseass persona.

“Good. You need your rest. I’ll be sleeping in the office on the floor.”

“The hell you will. No way is that happening. How about if I sleep on the couch and you can sleep in my bed?”

“Alone?”

I nod even though it kills me. Some sick need in me forces me to think of her first.

“That’s chivalrous of you, and unexpected, you being a pirate and all.”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

“There’s a lock on the door, right?”

I raise my eyebrows, insulted, until I see her smirk appear. “You’re too much of a smart ass for your own good, you know that?”

“I’ve been told. By my brothers.”

I grunt. Why am I glad she qualified that statement with her brothers? Shit, I need sleep. I get up from the couch and she follows, taking the empty pizza boxes to the trash.

I grab some pillows and a blanket and bring them back to the living room while I watch her sashay into my bedroom. Damn.

Luckily my couch is large and comfortable. It’s not the first time someone has slept here—usually Jason.