Page 41 of Any Second Now (Fort Collins Blizzard Hockey #2)

“If you wanted to see her once more, maybe see if you two could talk things out…”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” This time I mean to sound curt. I need to remind Kellen—and myself—that it’s truly over.

Isn’t it?

“Yeah, well, that’s what I thought—” I know he’s about to launch into a speech about my sister and him and how things magically worked out for them.

“This is nothing like you and Lucy, Kellie,” I interrupt. I sigh and run my hand over my face.

“Right. It’s not like me and Lucy.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It’s you and Raleigh.”

“There is no me and Raleigh.” But my objection sounds weak.

“Ready to go, mate?” Lachlan slaps his hand on my shoulder. “There’s a bar across the way we might swing by before heading to the club.”

“Bad choice.” Kellen shakes his head. “There are going to be so many people there who were at the game. You sure you want to deal with that?”

“Yup.” Barrett pops between us like an annoying little brother, draping his arms over our shoulders. Him being taller than me is infuriating. “Hopefully, all the hot women who were in that one section make an appearance.”

“The ones you kept winking at?” Lachlan rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Yep. Those women.”

“Let’s go then.” Lachlan heads toward the door and looks back over his shoulder at me. “Coming?”

That dude is totally burying his feelings about Melissa. There is no way he is over the breakup. This is a complete cover-up. And it’ll be painful to witness how he takes it out on poor girls at the bar.

He’s gonna have so much sex getting over his ex.

And I will too. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

But the idea of sleeping with someone else is revolting. Like honestly makes me want to gag.

“See you next week,” I say to Kellen without another glance, following Harley out the locker room door.

I force myself to leave the arena, heading down the crowded New York street where we all but blend into the throngs of people, and into the bar they’ve chosen.

It’s an Irish pub packed with Friday night drinkers, some dressed in business casual, maybe leftovers from office happy hours, and some in far less clothing out for the start of their night.

A trio of women immediately notice us, and Lachlan and Barrett waste no time going over to talk to them. Harley gets the first round and we stand in silence behind the boys and the two women they’ve descended on. The third woman gives us both interested eyes, but neither of us looks her way.

“Why aren’t you going after Raleigh?” Harley asks me, anger in his voice.

“What?” I turn to him, confused by the hostility.

“If I had a chance to convince the woman I love—because from what I’ve heard, you’re in seriously deep—to stay with me, I would do it in a second.”

“I’m not in love?—”

“Oh, fuck off.” Harley runs his hand over his newly grown beard.

I have a feeling this is going to be an intense year for my friend.

“You obviously are. And by the look on your face right now, you know it. Whatever’s happened with Raleigh this summer has changed you.

You’re different because of her. Yet you’re here at this shitty bar, to get drunk, and I’m gonna guess not hit on women? ”

I swallow and dip my chin. I know I love Raleigh. I’m ashamed I even tried to deny it.

“Yeah. You’re right.” I stare into the amber liquid and drain half the pint.

“I lost Emily. She’s gone. I can’t go fight for her anymore, because I already tried and failed.

I did the whole romantic gesture thing to win her back…

but I crashed and burned. It’s over with her.

It’s over.” I look up and Harley’s clenching his teeth, like he’s trying not to scream or cry or bite something.

“Tell me: is Raleigh in love with someone else?”

I think about her ex-husband. About the flowers he sent her, the way he just showed up at the Pink Palace, all the money she’s been sending him since their divorce.

That shit is complicated. Messy. So much baggage.

But is Raleigh in love with Jacob?

She told me she isn’t. And I believe her.

I think about the way she looked at me the last time we slept together. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, lying out in front of me, all mine. All fucking mine. For that night, anyway.

She’s smart and interesting and knows me. Likes the real me, not because I’m a pro hockey player. Probably despite being a pro hockey player.

Could she love me?

I don’t know. I don’t think so.

But maybe. She texted me earlier because she was worried. She knew how to calm me down.

And I think maybe Harley is right. I’m an asshole if I don’t try one more time. Because what if? What if I could convince her to stay with me in Fort Collins? What if I was enough for her?

“Oh, shit.”

I’ve messed this all up.

“Go get on that plane.” Harley turns me to the door and physically escorts me outside, taking my half empty pint right out of my hand. “Order a car immediately. ”

I do as he says, putting in the destination as the small airport the team plane’s flying out of, with a stop at the hotel to grab my bag.

“Done.”

“Now text Kellen and tell him to hold the fucking plane.”

I huff a laugh and do as he says.

“What about you? You coming?” I look up and meet Harley’s dark, sad eyes.

“No. I might as well stay and babysit these assholes.”

I want to ask him how he’s handing the fact that Barrett might be pushing him to the second line, and how can he even want to babysit his possible replacement? But I don’t, because I don’t think it’s the right time to push him on that.

“You sure?”

“Yup.” Harley nods as my car pulls up. “Good luck.”

I open the car door and confirm that it’s the right one, then turn to Harley.

“Thanks, dude.”

He raises his hand as we pull away.

Thirty minutes and a very expensive ride later, I’m jogging onto the runway and up the steps to the plane with my duffel.

“Finally.” Kellen grins at me from his seat, already half-reclined.

“We were about ten minutes from leaving your ass in New York,” Coach grumbles loudly from three rows back. He pulls an eye mask over his face and sighs. “And Kellen here was starting to doubt you’d show up.”

“Any day now, Atter, whenever you’re ready,” Grayson, one of our defensemen, calls from a seat toward the middle of the plane. He’s got a serious girlfriend back in Fort Collins, one he met while she was secretly driving a Zamboni to cover her father’s shift. Now that’s a good story.

About half the team is spread out on the plane, some with headphones, some already snoozing, a few chatting with each other and snacking on the food distributed by the flight attendants.

These guys are all the ones with girlfriends or families or other plans for the month of August that don’t include getting trashed in New York City.

“Any second now, I was just thinking,” Kellen says as I settle in a comfortable seat facing him, a table between us. “What are you gonna do?”

What am I going to do? I’ve got a couple hours on the plane to come up with a plan. We’ll arrive too late to see Raleigh tonight, but in the morning, I intend on showing up at the Pink Palace.

“I guess I’m going to go and tell her I love her.” Why does that thought simultaneously make me so happy but also make me want to vomit and then hide under a rock somewhere?

“Good for you.” Kellen nods and assesses me for a moment. “But you need a bit more than that.”

He’s right. I can’t just show up at her door. I need to come up with some way to win her over. Because I don’t just want to tell her I love her.

I want to convince her to stay with me in Fort Collins, when she’s already made it crystal clear she intends to go back to Connecticut.