Page 55

Olive

W atching Alex’s press conference is nothing like watching him on the ice.

The man who reeks of confidence when he’s in uniform skating across the rink is nothing compared to the subdued version of him answering questions from the media right now.

He doesn’t look uncomfortable to the naked eye, but I see right through the facade. I always have.

He wants to jump out of his skin.

But he’s doing it.

For me.

“Mr. O’Conner, what would you like to say about the recent photos that have surfaced of you and Sebastian Henderson’s sister?”

My fingers curl into themselves as I watch Alex’s shoulders square. “She has a name, you know. It’s Olive. Olive Henderson. Which you all know, since I’ve seen more than one of your papers share some interpretation of the news fodder over the last two days.”

The room is silent, not denying the accusation or apologizing for any of their part in spreading the news.

“What I choose to do with my life should be up to me and the person I’m with,” he tells them firmly. “And us only. I understand we all have careers that we need to build, but I don’t want my relationship or personal life to be at the expense of it.”

I find myself smiling at his no-nonsense attitude.

“It’s not often you have people who are willing to call off the dogs for you,” someone says from behind me.

I’m surprised when I see Thomas Moskins leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He isn’t looking at me, he’s watching his teammate.

“I’m sure you have people who would be willing to do the same for you,” I say. Although, I don’t know that for sure. I can talk stats all day long, but I barely know anything personal about most of my favorite players. The last I knew Moskins was married, though. That must mean he has someone.

He pushes off the frame and walks in, tucking his hands in his pockets. “You’d think so, but not all of us are that lucky.”

It’s hard to fight the frown, but I do. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who likes sympathy.

“Look, I was an ass the other day.” He scratches the back of his neck. “The cap and your boy tore into me over it. But I didn’t have anything to do with those photos.”

Poking the inside of my cheek with my tongue, I turn from Alex to Moskins. “I believe you. For the record, I didn’t mean to be a bitch. I get a little amped up when I’m talking about hockey. It’s sort of in my blood.”

Growing up watching Sebastian play makes me excited when I’m around other players, especially professional ones. But nobody likes hearing that they’re not as good as others, so I get why he was so defensive.

He studies me. “Ever since I was younger, I’ve always been the top of my game. I took pride in the praise I got from people; in being told I was the best. That changed when I came into the league.”

It’s competitive when you enter the NHL. They only want the best, which means you stop being number one like you were in your hometown. Sebastian experienced it too. “You should still take pride in the fact you got in. You said so yourself, you’re good. Not everybody who gets drafted can say that.”

There’s something passive in his dark eyes, like he doesn’t quite believe me.

But how could he get so far in this career if he didn’t at least believe in himself at some point?

Sure, some people’s cockiness is fake. Fake it ’til you make it and all that.

But I don’t believe that’s him. “I’m sorry you don’t have the kind of support you deserve.

Everybody should have someone in their life who cares. ”

His lips press into a thin line as he dips his chin and glances at Alex. “Yeah, they should.”

Where is his wife? I know better than to pry, as much as I want to. “Did you come here to apologize? Because you didn’t need to.”

“I didn’t have anything better to do. Heard O’Conner was holding a press thing here, so I figured I’d stop by and see what it was about. And I figured you’d be here with him.”

There’s something else, but I don’t know what it is. And if I asked, I’m positive he wouldn’t tell me the truth. “Does this mean we’re good? No hard feelings?”

He studies me.

I stick my hand out in front of me, waiting for him to shake it.

It feels like forever by the time he extends his and firmly grasps mine. “We’re good.”

I smile at him. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to apply to intern for the team, so I don’t want to get on anybody’s bad side if they choose me for the position.”

“If you know as much as you say you do, they’d be dumb not to have you. You’d be an asset. The interns we’ve had in the past just try sleeping around with us. Most of them don’t even know what a slapshot is.”

I wince. “It couldn’t have been that bad. They must have been qualified enough to get it.”

He deadpans. “The last intern asked how many points was scored when the ball went into the goal.”

At first, I think he’s yanking my leg. Then I realize he’s completely serious. “Oh.”

He only nods grimly.

My attention is pulled away when I hear Alex say, “Thank you for your time and understanding.” I watch him stand, scraping his chair back and walking off the makeshift stage set up for him.

When he sees me and Moskins, his shoulders draw back like he’s ready for war.

Moskins must sense it too. “Chill, O’Conner. I’m offering your girl an olive branch. No pun intended.”

I grin at the right wing.

Alex stops beside me, his hand going to my lower back as his shoulder brushes mine. “You okay?”

“More than,” I promise him. “You were great out there. You didn’t look nervous at all.”

Moskins makes a thoughtful noise. “I hate public speaking too. Makes me get the nervous shits.”

My brows go up at the information I probably could have lived without. “That’s unfortunate.”

Alex’s head cocks. “I thought you lived for these things. You love attention.”

“I like attention when it’s on my terms,” Moskins corrects.

“There’s a difference. You can’t always control what people are going to bring up when you’re talking to them.

They’ll do anything for a quick buck, and the stories aren’t always accurate.

Say one wrong thing, and they’ll twist your words and make you look like an asshole. ”

I frown. I’ve never seen anything bad about him online, not that I’ve looked into him.

“I’ll make you a deal. If I get the internship, I’ll be here when you do media interviews.

Not just because it might be part of my job, but because everybody deserves to have someone in their corner cheering them on. ”

His eyes widen for a millisecond before narrowing. “Why would you do that for me?”

Alex makes a noise like he’s wondering the same thing. Isn’t it obvious though? “Sometimes we need someone to be there. Not because we need to be fixed or anything, but because we’re human. We all need support once in a while. I’ve been told I give good pep talks.”

Both boys look at me, so I just smile at them like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And, right now, it is. Because I’ve been lucky enough to have a family who’s always been in my corner.

They’ve showered me with love and support.

Even my brother, who questions my choices, will always be there.

One day, he’ll see that Alex is there too.

He’ll get over being mad at me and realize my choice isn’t a bad one.

If I can spread some of that to people who need it more, then I’ll do it.

“It’s a deal then,” Moskins tells me.

My smile spreads.

He looks at Alex. “You’ve got a good one, O’Conner. Make sure you don’t fuck it up.”

The man beside me gapes at his teammate. “I won’t.”

Moskins shifts on his feet, looking like he might want to say something else. He doesn’t. Clearing his throat, he nods to himself and then walks out of the room.

“That was strange,” Alex murmurs.

I shake my head. “I think there’s more to him than you might think. You two are probably more similar than you know.”

Under his breath, he mutters, “I hope not.”

I elbow him. “Be nice. Not everybody has a good support system, and that’s important. I don’t think his marriage is a happy one.”

Alex doesn’t confirm or deny that. “I’ve never met his wife, and barely anybody talks about her.”

Which tells me all I need to know. “I think that’s sad, and exactly why Moskins could use some friends. And he apologized.”

“He did? Huh.”

I’m not going to force somebody to be friends with anyone they don’t want to be, so I don’t push it. “Do you want to celebrate your interview being over? We can go out to eat. My treat.”

“You’re not paying for a meal.”

“Then it wouldn’t be my treat.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“But I’m yours,” I counter, poking his side.

His eyes lock with mine. “Damn straight.”

*

I’m not sure what time it is when I’m awoken by the gentlest strum of fingers against my core, playing me like an instrument until my limbs are on fire.

Darkness still casts into the bedroom, leaving only a subtle light streaming in from an outside light post through the crack of the curtain, which tells me daybreak is still some time away.

The softest breath escapes my parted lips as my legs subconsciously open to grant his hand more access to the nerves he’s toying with.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs against my lips. “I love the sounds you make when I’m touching your pussy.”

His words make my skin buzz.

“I want these off,” he says of my leggings.

He doesn’t give me time to strip them myself before his hand moves away from me to start peeling them off myself. I make a sound of disgruntlement at the lack of touch that makes him chuckle until I’m bare to him.

Then I feel him, hard and hot against me.

“If I touch you right now, I bet you’d be soaking wet for me,” he says against my shoulder, kissing it. “Would I be right?”

God . The husky tone of his voice definitely adds to what’s happening inside of me. I don’t have the words to tell him that before his hand slips between my legs and feels for himself.

He groans, his dick twitching against my butt as soon as he feels the dampness greeting him. “I fucking knew it.”

His teeth bite into my collarbone as two of his fingers enter me. My head tips back, giving him better access to my throat. He makes quick work nipping the crook of it, then swiping his tongue along my pulse as his fingers pump into me.

The sounds they make should embarrass me, but he seems to get harder from the slick noise that tells him what he does to me.

His scent.

His touch.

His everything.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, retracting the digits and making me squirm. He doesn’t make me wait before his dick replaces his hand, thrusting into me in one go. “I’m going to miss you putting me into my place and telling off my teammates.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, because that went over so well before.”

“He forgave you.”

I hum. “What else are you going to miss?”

“I’m going to miss the way you moan and squeeze my cock with your tight pussy. How you say my name when you’re coming around me.”

He lifts my leg and picks up the pace, grinding into me until I can feel him deeper. God, it’s almost unfair that this man knows what he’s doing. It’s torture in the best way, if waterboarding dicks is a form of it. Then I’d be guilty for how much I love it.

“I’m going to miss your warmth,” he says, hooking an arm around me. “And waking up to you.” His nose nestles into my hair as he takes a deep breath. “I’m going to miss the way you smell like me from using my soap. I’m going to miss you being here, being mine.”

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he goes harder. His free hand moves lower until it’s tweaking my nerves, pinching and pulling and rubbing them as his cock works me from within.

It’s too much.

His words.

His body.

His fingers.

I lose it.

“Alex,” I call out. “Oh, God. I’m—” My mouth opens as the hottest, purest orgasm racks through me, preventing me from finishing the sentence.

Not that I need to.

Alex can feel me breaking apart, jumping off the cliff to oblivion. The low sound he makes in the back of his throat drives him forward, following my lead and coming undone.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his sweaty forehead resting against my shoulder. “I forgot to pull out.”

Panic doesn’t seep through me because I’ve always been careful. “I’m on the pill,” I tell him, slowly catching my breath.

I roll over when he pulls out, watching as he stares at me.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “Good.”

I wet my lips. “I should go…” I gesture toward the bathroom across the hall.

He clears his throat. “Yeah. All right.”

It’s hard being sexy under the current circumstances, so I don’t bother trying. I get to the bathroom and wash up, redressing and finger combing my messy strands of hair before crawling under the blankets with him.

He’s quiet, his breathing calm as one of his fingers finds mine and wrapping around it.

“I can take the morning after pill if it makes you feel better,” I tell him to break the silence, and the tension I feel radiating from him.

Alex lets out a breath. “Only if you want to.”

I turn to him. “I don’t want kids, Alex. That’s something important that I think you should know. I don’t think I’m going to change my mind about it either.”

He turns his head to meet my eyes. His eyes study my face—my eyes, my mouth, then back up again.

Even in the dim lighting, I can see his throat bob.

“I don’t either. Maybe that makes me a shit person, but I just don’t see that life for me.

I don’t have whatever gene makes people want to be a parent, and I don’t know if I’d be a good one to begin with. ”

The finger wrapped around mine twitches.

I have no doubt he’d be a great father, just like I’d be a great Mom, but I understand where he’s coming from. “I’ll take a pill tomorrow. Just in case.”

That finger squeezes mine.

I lean forward and press my lips against his, letting them linger for a second or two. “I…” I swallow the words that threaten to slip out. “I’m going to miss you too.”

His nose rubs against mine. “Come to our first home game. I’ll get you a ticket. I want you there.”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Consider it done.”

His lips touch the tip of my nose.

We fall asleep holding pinkies.