Page 14

14

RONAN

4 :44 a.m.

I roll to my side.

Then I flip to my back.

I stretch my limbs.

I groan.

By now, my bare legs are all tangled up in the sheets, and no matter what I do, I’m still no closer to falling back asleep.

On the days when I’m having a fantastic dream I don’t want to wake up from, the hours fly by, and I’m forced to drag myself out of bed before I’m ready.

But today, I’m wide awake hours before my alarm is due to go off. And time is creeping on unbelievably slow.

I glance at the clock again and— seriously? How is it still 4:44?

I’m fidgety as hell. My body is exhausted. But my mind keeps spinning. And every time I close my eyes, I feel the weight of Nicky’s lips, I hear her little whimpers in my head, I feel the bite of her fingernails sinking into my skin as she clung to me.

Fuck.

That was the hottest kiss of my life. And we weren’t even naked.

From the moment I first saw her, I knew that kissing her would be explosive. And it was. It was everything. It was more than everything.

But when my mind rewinds further back in the evening, all the sweet memories turn sour.

All I see is the embarrassment on Nicky’s face in the car. I feel the rage bouncing off of her as my mouth blabbered on, saying things I had no right saying to her. Dammit.

Yes, I was pissed that the Saints lost yet another game last night, and that I disappointed everyone all over again.

Yes, I was annoyed that Nicky kept being closed-off and refusing to have a damn conversation with me like a normal person.

But that doesn’t excuse the fact that I went about everything all wrong.

I was a dick to her last night when I brought up her ex-boyfriend. I shouldn’t have done that. After all, I know she’s just trying to help. Nicky’s just doing her job, trying to make me better.

And I do want to do better. I want to be better. I don’t want to leave a hockey legacy that’s a laughing stock of the Sports Broadcast Network. But in the moment, it was just so fucking hard.

I’m no fool. I know that our hot-as-fuck kiss didn’t fix things. It made everything a hundred times worse. And now, Nicky really won’t want anything to do with me.

That’s why I can’t sleep. I’m too damn wired.

I stare at the clock, the glowing numbers mocking me. I even start counting out the seconds, because I’m convinced my clock is not running right. Time has never moved this slow.

Don’t I have better things to obsess about anyway? Namely, my hockey career. It’s safe to say that things aren’t going too great for our season. Losing more than we win is not exactly a good look for a new team. It’s definitely not helping me or The Saints become one of the greats. Sports analysts are already starting to write us off for the year. I even heard them calling us hosers after last night’s loss in overtime.

Yet, all I can think about is some girl with killer tits, honey brown eyes and a sassy mouth. I’m an idiot.

When it finally hits five a.m., I give up on sleep. Even though it’s still dark out, now is a respectable time of day to wake up. At least that’s what those overhyped podcast bros on YouTube are always saying.

I whip off my tangled sheets and slide out of bed. I head into the bathroom and peel off my favorite pajama pants with the Saints logos all over them.

After taking my shower, I still feel like shit. Even after coffee, my mood doesn’t improve. I figure there’s just one thing that will make me feel better. Hockey.

I throw on some sweats and a fur-lined hoodie. I take the path around the back of the house, heading toward my private rink. It was the first thing I had built when I bought this property. I had to live in a trailer for a couple long weeks since I ordered the construction crew to prioritize the rink over the renovations on the house. But it was worth it.On days when I feel like shit, skating around and shooting pucks really helps to clear my head.

Yeah. Practice is important. I won’t be the useless guy on the ice who’s just skating around, hoping to get lucky and put garbage in the net.I want to be the best. The most skilled. I want to stand out.

Not just blend in with every other asshole who jumps on the ice with a stick in his hand. God, no. That's a recurring nightmare of mine.

On the way to the rink, I stop to grab my hockey gear from the shed out back. When I glance toward the guesthouse, I notice a lamp on by the window downstairs. I look more closely and see Nicky curled up in an armchair in front of the fireplace.

At the sight of her, there’s a weird twist inside my chest.

Fuck. I like this girl.

Her head lifts in my direction. I raise my hand in a wave and I keep walking toward the rink. I don’t wait to see if she’ll respond. After the way things went down last night, she probably doesn’t want to talk to me anyway. And I don’t want to further rock the boat.

But then I hear her call out across the distance. “Hey.”

I stop. I glance over my shoulder and she’s standing at the open guesthouse door.

Her hair is curly today. Those messy mahogany curls I love are falling adorably into her face. She’s wrapped all the way up to her chin in a thick duvet, her fingers clutched around the edge of a paperback.

“Why are you up?” she asks, a slight note of panic in her voice. “You don’t have practice this morning.”

“My team doesn’t have practice this morning,” I correct her, turning and taking a few steps in her direction. “But I do. I’m going to skate.” I motion toward my skating rink in the yard. Even after playing hockey for as long as I have, I still take practice seriously.

Nicky frowns at me now. “Oh…okay…”

“Why are you awake?” I ask her, taking a few more steps toward the cabin.

She holds up her novel. “Just reading.” Her lips twist to the side and her voice drops low. “Couldn’t sleep.”

I nod in understanding. “Same here.”

Silence settles in the space between us. Her body language tells me she feels just as awkward as I do.

I hate this.

I’m about to walk away but I stop myself.

I stare at her from where I’m standing at the bottom step. “You wanna come with me?” I feel the corner of my mouth lift in a playful smile as I point at the rink.

She frowns and pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, taking a step backward into the cozy warmth of the cabin. “What? Why would I come with you? It’s freezing out there.”

“Well, technically, you’re supposed to keep an eye on me.” I shrug. “That’s your job, remember?”

She looks at the skating rink. Then at me. Then back over to the rink. “Ronan. I’m pretty sure I don’t need to come with you. You’ll only be like a hundred feet away.”

“I could get in lots of trouble over there. Like lots . Lots of trouble,” I argue.

She lets out a groan, not at all looking happy with me.

I let the grin slip from my face. “Just kidding,” I say finally.

The situation between us is way too fragile to keep teasing her right now. One wrong word and things between us could very well explode again.

With a sigh, I take a step backward, my shoes crunching on the icy ground. “Don’t let me keep you from your little reading cocoon.” I motion to the cozy corner where she was sitting with her book. “See ya later.”

The corners of her lips turn up into a faint, forced smile. “See ya later.”

I resume my stroll toward the rink. Through the window, I see Nicky go back and curl up in her armchair. Book in hand. Blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

But she pulls her armchair closer to the window, and instead of returning to her book, she props her chin on her fist and focuses all her attention on me.

Excitement surges inside my chest. I hit the ice with a big, cheesy-ass grin on my face. I can’t wipe it off.

Yeah . This grin will be stuck on my face for a while.