Page 25

Chapter 25

All the Other Messy Parts of Me

Wade

“Do you mind if I ask about your relationship with Gabe Finch?”

The question comes from James Bollinger, a clean-cut, middle-aged reporter from the Ottawa Daily’s sports section, toward the end of the postgame press conference.

My eyes search for permission from management and PR. Jules and Elliot nod.

“Go for it.”

“I noticed she’s not here. Is there a reason for her absence?”

Jaeg closes his eyes with a deep sigh next to me. Landon’s knee bounces. Fletch lifts his cap, rubs his forehead, and pulls the bill down to hide his eyes. They know the truth and also that I’d murder them in their sleep if they spilled. Or worse, Gabe would murder me, and then my ghost would come back to terrorize them.

“ Uh .” My finger scratches the itch on the tip of my nose. “I don’t believe she’s covering this game.” Soft chuckles and snorts echo in the press room. I call to another reporter from CSN, “Hey, Adrienne.”

She laughs and waves back.

Bollinger’s face flames, and he shakes his head while typing on his phone. “Does that mean you’re still together?”

I flip my baseball cap backward and relax into the chair, arms crossing with a shrug. “She’s incredibly busy.”

“So you’re no longer dating?”

“I thought ‘a question’ meant one question.”

Jules motions for me to explain further, but Gabe and I agreed to lay low. The contracts we signed expired, and we told PR teams that we parted ways but didn’t want some big press release about the breakup.

It’s a win-win situation. We don’t stop seeing each other, and the press is off our backs.

I lie, this time, to protect our privacy.

“Miss Finch and I have equally demanding schedules?—”

The nosey prick keeps pushing. “So, you confirm you’re still together?”

Coach cuts him off. “Does anyone here have questions about something other than Boehner’s love life?” It would come off as rude, but he’s smiling and his tone is playful, hands drawing circles over the table. “His consistency, maybe? Or extraordinary stats this season? Or anything about hockey?” There’s more chittering. “If not, I think we’re good,” he confirms with Jules and Elliot. “Good night, everyone.”

The rustle of backpacks and shuffled footsteps fade as the press exits one way, and we exit the other.

We change out of the pullovers and back into suits before leaving the arena. Fletch kicks me in the shin for cutting a hole in the blazer pocket where he usually stores his phone. I almost pissed myself watching him drop it in the hallway again and again.

“You’re a douchebag.” He glares as I pass him on the bus.

“It’s a joke .”

“So’s your reading speed, but you don’t see me breaking your Kindle over it.”

Guess he’s still mad at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t finish reading Kingdom of the Feared, okay?”

He harrumphs and slaps on his headphones.

“I said I was sorry!” My index finger jabs into his neck between the bus seats. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

Fletcher returns an angry whisper. “No, that’s the butt plug lodged up there.”

I curse myself for mentioning last week’s exploration and prepare to beat the living daylights out of him when Jaeg growls.

“Move and die.”

“You heard what he?—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have yapped about all the ’glorious backdoor action’ you’re allegedly getting from your not-girlfriend.”

“That was the pain meds talking after I dislocated my shoulder! Wouldn’t have happened if someone wasn’t wanking off against the glass instead of?—”

My defense falls on deaf ears. Our captain remains shut-eyed, cozied into his travel pillow. “Let that be a lesson to you.”

“‘Let that be a lesson to you?’ What are you, eighty? Who says that anymore? Am I right?” I seek validation through a high-five, but no one’s paying attention. Except Theron. The dude would high-five for any reason. I accept it with a resigned sigh.

I lean past the aisle and whisper toward Derrick. “And that was private information.”

“Then stop screaming it from the rooftops. Now go away.” His hand grips my shoulder and jostles me back to my seat. “And stay there.”

The drive to L.A. from Las Vegas gets us to the hotel around 3 a.m., and I text Gabe my room number in case she wants to drop by.

Two hours later, my eyelashes tangle with hers.

What a way to wake up.

I groan happily and roll until she’s on her back, gripping my biceps for support. She flexes her thigh twice against my boner.

“Well, good morning.”

“Hi.” My voice rattles—dry and gravelly from sleep deprivation—against her smooth skin as my lips greet her freckles.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Better now.” We share lopsided smiles. “You get some rest?”

“Not really,” she says. “You know how redeyes go. Nothing caffeine can’t fix.” Her hands glide across my bare arms and back. “Got you a cup, too. It’s by the TV.”

“You’re a genius.” I steal a coffee-heavy kiss and balance on my elbows, getting a better look at this absolutely angelic creature. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in black and gold, and my body retreats, surprised. “What are you wearing?”

Gabe lifts to her knees, uncrumpling the number twelve plastered over her tits.

No!

She rotates slightly to show off the back. “Cute, right? I got the updated one that says Davé-Radek.”

Not cute. It’s not mine.

A possessive fire burns a hole in the feral part of my brain. I press my tongue between my bottom lip and lower teeth. “Nah. It’s no good.”

My fists catch the hockey sweater, yanking and yanking until my fingers bore holes into it.

“ Wade !” she chides. “This was brand new.”

I poke through two of the holes and tear through the knit, ripping a slash into it. “Trash the jersey.”

The little brat notches her hands on her hips. “We’re not even fake dating anymore.”

Ouch. That’s gonna leave a mark.

“You’re right. We’re dating -dating now.” I hop off the bed and dig around my suitcase, recovering a practice jersey and chucking it to her. It lands on her face. “Put it on.” My hands tuck the front into her jeans. “Unless you’re fucking Indi and Landon, the only name on your body is mine.”

She rolls her eyes, but the smile she’s wearing radiates pride. “Did not think you were the jealous type.”

“I’m all sorts of things when it comes to you.” I grasp the small of her back and wrench her closer by the torso, mirroring how she kneels atop the mattress. “Jealous.” Our hands intertwine. “Greedy.” I bring her fingers to each closed eye before kissing them. “Obsessed.”

My heart lurches in my throat when she nuzzles my forehead.

“Gabe?”

“Yeah?” Her expression is soft, yielding.

Somewhere along the way, the pretending switched spots for the real thing. Or maybe it was always the real thing, and the only people who pretended it wasn’t were us.

Now we’re all in, but without the label, and there’s that pesky feeling that craves it. The ownership. To publicly belong to her and only her.

“What are we?”

The crinkle in her brow deepens. “ Hmm ?”

“What am I to you?”

She slots her nose next to mine, speaking into my mouth. “You’re my needy little bitch.”

“Gabe.” I pout, whining.

“Sounds like my little bitch needs a blowjob.”

I resign to the deflection. She’s not ready to address it.

She said she’s yours, fucker. What more could you want?

I can be patient , I repeat internally.

Mischief twinkles between us. Freckles dance along the planes of her high cheekbones, enigmatic smile fighting to break free.

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

Getting sucked dry cleared my head for the game against the Suns. Donovan breaks the tie and clinches the win by scoring in the penalty shootout. Gabe stays level-headed during his on-ice interview, but once we’re in the hallway, she runs up and leaps into my arms.

“White women can jump,” I tease. The skates give me enough height to tower over her.

“I’m not white,” she corrects.

“Apologies, my desi queen.”

A throat clears behind us.

“Hey, Wade.”

The volume of Gabe’s hair blocks my view, and I loosen my hold around her waist. She slides to stand on the cement floor.

Vanessa tucks a thick chocolate curl behind her ear. “I thought that was you.”

“I— hey .” My heart drops into my churning stomach imagining what’s going on in Gabe’s head right now. I find her hand and squeeze. “ Um , this is Vanessa…”

Damn. I don’t know her last name.

She extends a hand. “…Dearborn. Vanessa Dearborn.”

“Gabe Finch,” she answers back.

“Oh my gosh, I’m such a fan!” Vanessa gushes. “Loved watching your coverage of the season so far. It’s been a good season, huh?”

The paddle handle twists in my grip. “It has been.”

There’s no malice or deceit in her voice or eyes. “You look really happy.”

I pump Gabe’s hand twice, hidden behind the panel of her wool coat. “I am.”

“That’s good to hear.”

An awkward lull passes. “What are you doing here?”

“Just waiting for?—”

“Hey, babe.” A suited boy-next-door type sidles up and winds an arm around her waist. Sun-bleached blond waves I once yearned to touch hover over his broad shoulders, framing a tanned face. His familiar ocean-blue gaze throws my heart rate into a tailspin. “ Yooo , Boehner!”

Memories I cast away years ago resurface as he pulls me into a hug. They curdle in my gut, buried so deep I almost don’t recognize them. I’d managed to avoid the thought of Malcolm Montgomery for as long as I could.

“Hey, Mal.”

“It’s been a while, man. Just got traded from Dallas two weeks ago.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that.”

“Just in time to be able to play in the postseason.”

“You two know each other?” Vanessa cuts in.

“Know each other?” Malcolm guffaws. “We played at Harvard together.” His playful glance goes serious when it reaches mine. “This was my boy.”

A shiver gallops down my spine.

My boy.

“Oh, my God! That’s right.” Gabe looks between us. “Weren’t you two roommates at one point?”

“Yep, until I got drafted. Crazy times, eh, Wade?”

“Yep,” I echo through a nervous chuckle. “Crazy times.”

All those unsure, fleeting glimpses during practices that turned to longing late at night. The countless moments of tentative contact pulled away too quickly. A year of unspoken tension where nothing had happened, but everything had bloomed, waking something only to be tucked away like so many other pieces of myself.

“Where are my manners?” Mal bounces the heel of his hand off his forehead. “Have you met Vanessa?”

“Yep. Yeah.” Gabe and I confirm in chorus.

“Isn’t she great?” He goes gooey-eyed looking at her, then kisses her cheek. “Best thing to ever happen to me.”

She blushes pink in response. “We should get going.” Vanessa’s suggestion is met with relieved breaths from all of us.

“For sure. Good seeing you, man.” He waves goodbye and curls an arm around her neck before kissing her forehead. They disappear down the hall and through a set of double doors.

“That was…interesting.” Gabe slices through the silence on our walk toward the locker area.

“Or something.”

My heart wants to rip from my ribs and bare itself in her hands. But there are too many watchful eyes and eavesdropping ears surrounding us.

“Meet you at the hotel?”

“Yep.”

She beats me there and waits at the foot of the mattress, rocking her foot from where it hangs over crossed legs.

I toss my coat and suit jacket on an armchair, then undo my tie. “I’m wiped.”

Gabe perks an eyebrow at me. “Did you sleep with her?”

Right to the chase.

“Yes. Long before you.”

There. That wasn’t so hard.

“Ahh, now it makes sense.” Her head moves through a series of nods, and I relax. She’s not upset. “You’re jealous she’s with someone else.”

The truth is more complicated, but it’s the truth. Gabe deserves that much.

“No,” I confess softly, untucking my shirt and slipping out of my Oxfords. “I’m jealous of her .”

The bobbing foot stills. She straightens, placing both feet on the flooring. “What do you mean?”

I lower until my knees take up the space between her boots, running my hands up and down her thighs in wide strokes.

“Malcolm and I…we weren’t close because we played together or lived together.” Shame fixes my eyes to the ground. “We’re close because…”

We share the same secret.

Why can’t I say it?

“Go on,” she encourages, lifting my head to catch my gaze. “You can tell me anything, Wade.”

The admission is more for me than Gabe. “She gets to have Malcolm in a way I never did.”

Her throat tenses with a swallow before a mousey murmur breathes out. “Holy crap.”

“I thought I could forget he existed.” My head hangs, unable to face her. “Was doing a decent job, too.”

A gracious hand sweeps over my cheek and latches to my jaw, forcing my head to tip back. “Does he know?”

“What I felt about him?” I deny it. “Subconsciously? Possibly. But we never talked about it.” I lean into her touch, savoring every second. Afraid it’ll evaporate, and I’ll lose it forever.

“Do you want to tell him? Do you still want him?”

“No. I only want you. But…” The words evade me. “It’s like, the attraction is still there. This is the first time I think I’ve said it out loud.”

Her thumb moves across my lower lip. “You can keep going, if you want.”

“Oh.”

She means say it.

Say it.

“Gabe.”

Solemn encouragement glimmers in her dusky eyes. “Yeah?”

I grip her forearms, clinging to her. My heart thuds in its cage. I can’t lose her, but I can’t lie to her either. She knows all the other messy parts of me. She might as well know this one. Maybe I’ll get to know it better, too.

“I’m bi.”

Water floods her bottom lids.

One weight swaps for another. The first, a secret. The second, a fear of loss.

Both lift when her arms raise me, hauling my body onto the mattress until we’re lying across it face-to-face.

“You’re incredible.” Velvet lips dote on my cheek, temple, forehead, and nose, peppering my face with the gentlest of kisses and dispersing my panic once and for all. “I’m so grateful I get to see all of you. I understand why you don’t share yourself fully with others, but don’t hide from me, okay?”

“Okay.”

With the finality of the last nail in a coffin, my heart decides.

I am never letting Gabe Finch go.