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I can’t stop thinking about Aurora and our baby. I find myself wanting to know how the meeting with her agent went. Is she eating? Does she still have morning sickness? Does she need anything? I wonder what she’s doing with Jackson.
I have a strong suspicion it’s the same I’d be doing if I was with her.
My thoughts move in that direction—to her candy taste and honey scent, to having her in my lap, to those damn expressive eyes as she peers up at me from her knees.
And God, the way she clings to me as if I’m hers. And I am. The little brat has me wrapped around her finger.
I’ve never been easily distracted by a woman. I’ve only ever focused on hockey. If it didn’t pertain to hockey, it wasn’t relevant.
There was a brief period of about two seconds when I considered devoting my time and attention to my wife, to salvaging our marriage.
But that was about as appealing as testicular cancer.
This thing with Aurora? It’s not physically possible to ignore. The loneliness of her absence intensifies with every passing hour.
I didn’t even sleep last night. I stayed awake, trying to resist the urge to text her while she was with Jackson. I catch myself mentally scouring my schedule for any opportunity to fly to New York to see her, which, considering I have eighty-two games in six months, seems highly unlikely.
Still, the thought of a distraction-free night in bed with her is tempting enough to warrant me making time.
“Seriously?” I glance down at the pulsing erection that fully supports the idea of Aurora sprawled naked beneath me. I have assistant coaches and managers, after all. I could convert those fantasies into reality and let them do my job—not a game, but a few practices won’t hurt. Right?
The moment I reach for my phone, I realize how utterly fucked I am.
Me: Come see me.
Baby girl: Not a hi, hello, how are you?
Me: You can tell me all that when I see you.
Baby girl: I’m with Jax. Aren’t you getting ready for the game?
Me: Tell him he has practice.
Me: Come see me. Now.
Baby girl: And you don’t have practice?
Me: I’ll have someone run the first half if you come see me.
Baby girl: At the arena?
Me: Yes, have Jackson show you my office.
A few minutes go by without another text, and my stomach knots with disappointment. She’s with Jackson and doesn’t want to see me.
I’m about to give up and toss my phone to the side when the cockblock himself texts me.
Captain Diva: Fuck off.
Me: I heard you missed team breakfast this morning.
Captain Diva: So?? I was balls-deep in your girl.
Me: Maybe your balls need a rest on the bench tonight.
Me: You have an hour. Don’t bring her through the locker room.
I have nothing against being seen with her, nor am I embarrassed by her, but I’d prefer to keep our relationship away from the team.