Page 11

Chapter 11

Emmy

I t'd been a few days since I gave Cooper my phone number and I still hadn't heard a peep. Nor did he show up at the next AA meeting.

Which was a damn shame.

I reminded myself, not everyone was ready to open up and could stay clean. He probably wasn't ready just yet.

I turned on Hockey Night in Canada for some background noise. I folded myself on the sofa with my laptop so I could work on my novel and truly unwind.

My cell phone rang. I reached for it, and it surprised me to see it was a blocked number. Not unknown but blocked. I didn't think that was truly possible, but there it was.

I was tempted to send it straight to voicemail, but I was curious.

I thumbed the accepted button and raised it to my ear.

"Emmy Symon at your service."

I heard breathing on the other side, so it wasn't a robocall. But I wished whoever it was would just announce themselves already.

"Is it too late? I can hang up if it is."

His voice was so distinctively smooth and American that I knew it had to be Cooper.

I pushed my laptop off my lap and sat up straighter. This was the call that I'd been waiting for.

"It's okay. I'm awake and I'd rather have you call than for you to be lost in your thoughts."

He sighed, but there was just enough relief to his voice. "How did you know I was lost in my thoughts?"

It was refreshing how open he was with me, despite being so new to the recovery process. I was so used to people who were jaded, unwilling to change or put in the work.

"Cause nobody chooses to drink themself to death because they want to drink. They're running from something, and more often than not, it's their feelings or thoughts. So what is keeping you up tonight?"

I heard the poof of a pillow, which made me imagine him being half naked and resting on a bed. Just that image alone made my panties wet. I wanted that tall ginger hockey god.

Then I mentally slapped myself for even thinking about Eoghan in that way since it was so inappropriate. But fuck, he was gorgeous.

"Frankly, being traded sucks. I can't be my true self with the new guys, and drinking was one of the few things that made me forget how much it sucks to be here."

That made me ask the most obvious question since I was clueless what he was talking about and often just naming the problem can be therapeutic. "Why can't you be your true self?"

He sighed. "Believe it or not, I'm a major introvert. It's hard for me to connect with new people. Plus, I left home for the first time in my life. It was my pack, and it sucks."

One word that I picked up on but wasn't sure what to make of it was pack. He must have been super close to his friends and family. To be in your thirties and forced to leave home for the first time had to be really tough.

While I was sure he was holding something back, this was still a good breakthrough moment.

I loved how honest he was being with me. So many hockey players were bigger than life and really filled a room. I'd noticed how he was much quieter than those guys during any interviews.

"Let me guess, you could relax a little bit when you drank?"

"Not quite. More it numbed so much of the outside triggers, and it felt like I could open to the new guys. Sadly, it was easier to be numb, and despite going out with the guys, I never opened up to them."

My heart went out to him since you could feel the loneliness in his voice, and I just wanted to make it go away. At least, he realized why he was using alcohol. I really wanted to ask more, but I didn't want to push too hard and have him shut down.

Instead, I pointed out, "Well, I'm no hockey expert, but I watch more than my fair share. It seems like you're connecting with the guys more and there's better chemistry than a couple weeks ago."

He grunted out an agreement but didn't say anything more.

I wanted to make a joke about getting adopted by an extrovert and that was why he was opening up to others. Instead, a yawn escaped. He was a couple hours ahead since he was playing in Dallas.

It was time to dig into his problems so both of us could get some much-needed sleep.

"Sorry. I'm crashing. So Mr. Introvert, did you want me to talk you out of drinking tonight, or is the call about something else?"

Eoghan was quiet, but I could hear his breathing. I let him have the space to think about what he was saying. "Would it be weird if I told you that I wanted to hear your voice since I missed seeing you today?"

The thought of a big, famous hockey player being interested in little old me was flattering yet unbelievable. I was younger than him and only conventionally pretty. He could have any girl that he wanted.

Besides, the bigger issue was the fact that his words were verging on the flirtatious. We had a working relationship. I was supposed to be helping him to get clean and sober. We can’t be dating even if I have that fantasy.

"Not weird, but it's surprising."

Didn't he realize I wasn't anything special? Just an ex-addict who liked hockey and was trying to build a life in Vancouver.

"Why's that?"

He really didn't know, but I didn't want to sound so defeated or terrible. Instead, I told him about my other truth.

The truth that I continued to fight with. It was entirely inappropriate to date him. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was in my group, he was just starting to get clean and he should wait before he got into any relationship. Yet there was something about his soul that intrigued me and I started to fantasize and loved our nightly chats.

"Well, I've thought about you too, so it's fair play."

Something about his tone shifted and I could imagine his beautiful face. "You have? All good things too?"

"Of course." It was fun to flirt with him, and another yawn escaped, but it was even longer than the last one.

"Well, I'll let you go. It was great to hear your voice. Don't be afraid to call."