Page 34 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

T yler

“You're an hour late, Tyler,” Coach shouts at me as I exit the locker room and head to the ice. “What the fuck is going on? You know tomorrow is the most important game of your life, and you’re fucking around?”

“Look, I'm sorry,” I say, stifling a yawn.

I should be mad at myself. I should be upset. I should take what Coach is saying to heart. But I don't care. I stayed up until four o’clock in the morning chatting with Erica on the phone—and it felt amazing. Her voice is sweet, and I feel like I know her in ways I never imagined. And she knows me.

We talked about our favorite TV shows, our favorite movies, our favorite books, our dream destinations to travel to.

We talked about our fears. We talked about movies that had scared us, movies that had made us cry.

We talked about what animal we would be, our favorite foods, the foods we hated, our best friends in childhood—the ones that had made us feel like we weren’t good enough.

We talked about everything and anything, and I didn’t even think about hockey once.

Of course, she reminded me that I needed to get off the phone, but I didn’t want to. All I wanted was to hold her in my arms. But talking to her on the phone was just as good—hearing her voice in my ear. It was lyrical. It was sweet. She had the voice of an angel.

And yet I knew I was going to pay for it. Today.

“Do you not give a fuck about this team, Tyler?” Coach says to me. “Hey, guys, come over here!”

He calls everyone from the ice, and they all skate over to me. He looks at me and then at them.

“Does anyone think we need Tyler here in the game to win tomorrow? Should I sit him out?”

I know he’s trying to prove a point, trying to say that I’m expendable—and I most likely am. I’m not the only hockey player in the world, and I’m certainly not the best. I’m skilled, I’m fast, and I think quickly. That’s a skill that’s helped me. But I’m not the only guy who can do what I do.

“If you think that’s what’s best for the team, Coach,” I say.

He glares at me. That’s not the answer he wants to hear.

Elliot is staring at me. There’s murder in his eyes, and I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he always knew—from the first time he saw us together—that there was something between us.

Of course, I wouldn’t ask him that. I didn’t want to make him angrier than he already was.

Not that I cared. He deserved everything that he got.

He was a jerk. And when I protected Erica from him, it wasn’t because I wanted her.

It was because I didn’t want her to be assaulted or put in a bad position because she was with him.

I didn’t trust Elliot. I didn’t trust that he knew how to stop when a woman said no.

“So you want to sit out then, Tyler? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“No, Coach,” I say. “I’m sorry I’m late. It was a late night.”

“Fucking another bimbo?” Elliot says.

I just stare at him. “I’m not you. I was home. In bed.”

I look over at Coach.

“Coach, I’ve been on this team a long time. You know me. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to be late. Life is just... life-ing right now.”

His face twists for a second. “Is everything okay? Your mom? Your sisters?”

I nod. “They’re fine. There’s just... a lot going on right now.”

Which is true—but probably not in the way he thinks. He probably assumes something devastating is going on. But in fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s quite beautiful.

Not that I’m going to tell him that.

“Get on the ice. Guys—Tyler.” He looks at me. “Tomorrow’s game is important.” As if I don’t know.

“I know, Coach. It’s really important. I know. And I’m going to play the shit out of some hockey.”

I stare at him.

“You got my word.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

I get on the ice, and I feel like a different man. I need to focus. I need to focus on the puck. I need to focus on the net. I need to?—

I can see Erica’s smile in my mind.

She’s so pretty. With her brown eyes and her long hair.

I just want to hold her.

I just want to pay attention?—

“Kane!” Coach shouts, just as Harrison comes crashing into me.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I skate away.

“They’re going to get you tomorrow,” Harrison says. He’s not happy that he was able to take me down so quickly. Normally, I evade him every single time. And if I’m not evading Harrison—who’s not even our best defenseman—then we’re in trouble.

“I got this.” I hold my hand up. “I got this, Coach. Don’t worry.”

Practice goes on for another thirty minutes, and I know I’m distracted. I just keep hearing Erica’s laugh. I keep hearing her telling me the things that make her happy. I keep hearing her talking about soulmates.

And then I think about how she said that I’d won the bet.

But I didn’t want to win the bet.

I wanted her to win the bet. I wanted her to be victorious—not just because I wanted her to win, but because if she won, it meant I was winning, as well.

“Let’s take a break,” Coach says. He doesn’t look at me.

As I skate off the ice and take a seat to drink some water, I know that he’s pissed. I know that he’s worried. And I know if I don’t get my act together, we’re not going to win the game tomorrow.

I close my eyes and rub my forehead.

You need to be in the game. You need to be in the game.

I repeat the mantra that I’ve used anytime I’ve been distracted.

“One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four…”

My eyes flicker open. I can see Erica’s face in the stands. I shake my head.

I’m hallucinating now. I’m going crazy.

And then I realize—I’m not.

Erica is here. And she’s with Sabrina.

What the fuck is she doing here?

I get up and hurry over to the side.

“Hey,” she says, offering me a small wave. “I hope you don’t mind. We came to see the practice. Wes and Miles are here, as well, but they just went to grab something.”

“Oh. Hey.”

I smile at her and look at Sabrina. I give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and she giggles.

“You can kiss me on the lips. Sabrina knows everything I do,” Sabrina says, staring at me with a wide smile. “And I know everything. Like, everything everything.”

“Well, I hope it’s all good.”

“It’s good,” Sabrina says. “And with that, I will go and find my boyfriend.”

She gets up and walks away. I take a seat next to Erica, and she frowns.

“You okay?” she asks, squeezing my arm.

“Yeah. Why are you asking?”

“Because you weren’t playing so well, and your coach looked pissed. He was shouting at you, and… is this my fault? I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”

“Girl, it’s not your fault.”

“But if you weren’t on the phone with me all night, then maybe you’d be playing better today.

I distracted you. And I don’t want to be a distraction.

And maybe that’s why you’ve not really dated, or you’re not looking to date, because you don’t want distractions, and—oh, I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve just stayed at home.

I overstepped. I’m acting like a girlfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend.

I’m just your friend of the evening or whatever?—”

“Erica, stop.”

“No, I feel really bad. You’re playing like shit, your coach is mad, you might get fired, you might lose the game tomorrow—and all because of me. Why am I even here? I don’t know. I should have stayed home. I’m stupid, stupid, stupid. I?—”

“Erica,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I’m glad that you’re here.”

“You are?” she asks softly. “Really?”

“Yeah. I stayed up all night talking to you on the phone because I like you.”

“You do?”

“I mean, it’s not like I was banging you all night,” I say with a chuckle. “We were talking. We were getting to know each other.”

“Maybe because you felt guilty…”

“Erica, I don’t feel guilty.”

“Just like that? No.”

I look over at the ice and see Coach looking around for me.

“I just want you to know that this”—I point at her, then at me—“is something real. This is something special. And I’m glad that you’re here. I want you to stay until the end of practice. And then maybe we can grab a bite to eat.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Oh my gosh, Erica—I—stop being so self-deprecating. I really care about you. This is not when or how I wanted to say this, but… I don’t want to win the bet.”

“What?”

“I said, I don’t want to win the bet.”

“Because you don’t have anything you want to win?”

“I don’t want to win the bet because I want you to win the bet. I want you to find your soulmate. I want you to have found your soulmate.”

“You want me to have found my soulmate… while I’m sleeping with you?” Her eyes narrow. “What sort of twisted sick comment is that?”

"Oh my gosh, Erica. For someone so smart and so beautiful, you can be awfully dumb sometimes. I want to be your soulmate. I want to be the one you think is the one for you—because I think you are the one for me.”

“You're just saying that,” she says. “You don't have to do that. I know you're a good guy. I know you're nice. And maybe you're feeling guilty because you took my virginity, and now my brothers are here and my best friend knows about us, and maybe you just don’t…”

“Erica, grab your phone.”

“Okay… why?”

“Because I need to see it.”

She hands me her phone and frowns. “There are no more dick pics on it, if that's what you're wondering.”

“No. I need to log into my email.”

“Your email?” She wrinkles her nose. “Why?”

“Because there's something I need to show you.”

“Okay.”

“Hey Tyler, Coach wants you on the ice now!” Henderson calls.

“I’m coming,” I say, as I log into my email account quickly.

“Now, Kane!” Coach calls.

“Coming, Coach.”

I stare at Erica, and she looks nervous.

“You should go. Whatever you?—”

“No, I need to show you this.”

I scroll down until I find the email from the gallery. I click on it, open it, and hand the phone to her.

“Read the title.”

“It says ‘Heart Painting.’”

“Okay.” She shrugs.

“I want to show it to you.”

“I don’t need to see an anatomical heart right now,” she says, laughing. “I’m sure it’s amazing.”

“No, you goof.”