Page 44

Tobie

My ass is freezing as I sit with my eyes glued to the players on the ice.

They throw their heads back when they laugh and dive into each action, seemingly without a care in the world. When they go down, they spring back up again like the toughest elastic I’ve ever seen.

Their entire existence is physical, raw, and alive.

They make me feel alive. Like I’ve been sleep-walking through life all this time.

I crave them when I don’t see them. I miss them before I’ve said goodbye, and I shouldn’t be doing any of that when none of this is real.

They’re not mine, but I don’t want to let them go.

This practice, one of their last before spring break, has been intense. More so than the others I’ve been to. Sweat slides down their faces at the end of a drill. They gulp from bottles of water, their chests rising and falling as they recover.

They’ve been so focused on the three coaches leading this practice to spot me when I slipped into the arena and took my seat nearer the back than the front. I remember what Hallie said to me before, and I have no intention of provoking another confrontation.

Reid spots me.

A radiant grin transforms his face. “The most beautiful girl in the world has come to watch me.”

Good Lord, that man is beautiful.

And he doesn’t even try to keep his voice down.

Javier and Caleb had their heads bent together but turn to face me, forgetting all about their conversation as Javier smiles and Caleb nods.

And it hurts.

Because every time I see them, I’m counting down to the last time.

Heartbreak will bounce right off them. When we go our separate ways, they will have a line of women eager to mend their pretend broken hearts.

But I don’t, and my heartbreak won’t be pretend.

When Marc shattered my heart, all I could think to do was crawl under the covers like a wounded animal nursing its hurt until three hockey players offered me the promise of revenge. If they hadn’t, I would still be under my sheets, eyes red-rimmed, and pillow soaked with tears.

The coach blows his whistle, and their quick break is over. They return to practice.

I brought my grad school application with me.

I thought I would find it easier to make a decision about the rest of my life in a place where I’m watching these men living and breathing their dreams. Yet, I seem incapable of taking the first step toward mine.

There’s no doing my master’s in library science at the school near Marc. Not now.

Do I apply for another master’s in a different school, or do I go after the dream I’ve spent the last ten years pretending I don’t want?

I open my laptop and stare at my half-completed grad school application.

I’m still hesitating when someone drops heavily into the seat next to mine.

I snap my laptop shut and turn to my right.

A blonde-haired woman sits in the seat next to me, her eyes on the players and saying nothing.

Hallie.

She called me a puck bunny the last time she found me here. I start stuffing my laptop into my bag so I can leave before she turns even nastier.

“My brother fell in love with a girl who dumped him when he refused to get tickets for all her friends. That’s all she wanted him for. Tickets and access to parties.” She does nothing to hide the rage in her voice.

I pause.

Hallie flicks a rapid glance my way. “My brother’s nickname is Sweet. The team doesn’t just call Lincoln that because of his addiction to sweet things. She broke his heart.”

I stop stuffing my laptop in my bag.

After a brief pause, Hallie continues, “I’ve been to almost every game the last few years. I’ve been here for the wins, the losses, most of the heartbreaks, and I would do anything for those guys on the ice. When you spend that much time with people, they become family. No. They are family.”

I get where this is going. “So when you called me a puck bunny…”

“I thought you would hurt the guys, but seeing you with them, seeing them with you…” She turns in her seat to look at me.

“You care. You’ve been good for them. Even Caleb isn’t as highly strung as usual, and Lord knows that man has been walking around with a solid titanium stick up his ass for most of this year.

Getting him to unclench takes some doing, so I commend you.

If someone told me I’d see him take time away from practice to watch kids play street hockey this close to the championship, I’d have told them to stop smoking whatever was causing their delusions. ”

After the kids won their game at the rec center, I’d caught her looking at me. “So, you came to the street hockey to?—”

“Apologize. What I said to you without knowing the first thing about you wasn’t right. I can understand if you don’t want to accept. I was just trying to watch out for them the way they have for me over the years. Instead, I was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it.”

She gets up before I can respond. “I’m Hallie, by the way. I understand if you don’t want to forgive, but I just wanted to say I should have given you a chance instead of judging you.”

And she walks away.

Practice is over.

Javier had to run to class because he was late, and Reid is meeting with his professor to go over a question he has about his paper. Not all the guys have left, though. Five guys are still on the ice, chatting and laughing.

I pick up my bag and move closer to the ice instead of leaving like I know I should.

The coaches are standing near the side, arms crossed, speaking quietly to each other when Caleb skates over with his bottle of water to my side of the rink.

And he kisses me. Soft, lingering, as if it’s something we’ve always done. “Hey.”

“Hey.” My eyes drift over his shoulder to find his teammates staring, their mouths hanging open. “Uh…”

He turns around and snorts. “Ignore their ogling. They’ll stop soon. Weren’t you bored? I thought you’d bolt the second practice was over.” He takes a long gulp from his bottle, and I watch his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Surprisingly, no. It’s more fun than I thought it would be watching your coach scream at you,” I joke.

One corner of his mouth lifts as he twists the lid back on his bottle, sets it on the ground, and steps off the ice. I watch him curiously as he picks up two long blue pieces of plastic from the side of the rink’s entrance and slips them onto the blades of his skates.

“What are those?”

“Skate guards to protect the blades and stop me from embarrassing myself in front of a beautiful woman.”

My breath hitches as he looks right at me when he speaks. “And how would you embarrass yourself?”

“Trip over my own feet. So you can understand why I’m wearing them.”

“Why don’t you just take the skates off? Practice is over.”

“Not for me. I have to go through a couple of things with some of the guys in a bit.” He leans against the plexiglass and crosses his arms as he looks down at me.

“Captain’s responsibility?”

He nods and points his chin up to the stands. “What were you working on up there?”

I cock my head, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“You had your laptop out.”

“I thought you were focused on practice.”

“And I was.” He pauses, eyes hooded. “Some of the time.”

Our stare extends, and I look away as the tension ramps up between us. “My grad school application. That’s what I was working on.”

Maybe if I wasn’t so frazzled by his heated stare, I might have come up with a lie instead of talking about something I never talk about with anyone.

“You didn’t mention that before.”

“I’m still trying to decide what to do.”

He’s silent for a beat. “Because that future was tied up with your ex?”

My eyes fly to his. “How did you know?”

His lip quirks. “Most of the people in my class going to grad school decided what they’re doing and where they’re going weeks ago. A couple of them, months ago. You seem the sort to have that figured out early rather than later unless your plans have changed.”

After a moment, I nod. “We had a dream. Marc would take over from his dad and be the new attorney in our town, and I would be the new librarian.”

“And was this dream yours or his?”

“Ours. Both of ours.”

Caleb’s gaze is intense and probing. “Then why do I get the impression it’s more his than yours?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’d have found another grad school instead of me catching you staring into space, so confused I could feel your confusion from the ice.”

I don’t have an answer for him. I don’t even have an answer for me.

Because I don’t, I bend to grab my bag. “I should?—”

Two seconds later, he has me pinned to the plexiglass, muscled arms caging me in, the intoxicating scent of his skin and the hard, warmth of his body making this a prison I don’t want to escape from.

He’s still wearing his skates and is remarkably steady. Maybe those skate guards make balance easier. To me, it still seems like trying to walk on razor blades.

Even though he’s six-foot-four and practically looms over me, and he used that size to intimidate Marc into leaving my dorm, I’m not the least bit afraid.

His head lowers, and I have to fight with myself not to run my fingers along his shadowed jaw. “What’s your dream, Myers, and why aren’t you chasing it down?”

I look away so he won’t see how much I like it when he calls me Myers. It’s weird, I know, but I’m used to being on my own, studying on my own, and occasionally going out with my friends, but more often than not, alone.

A team of one.

He makes me feel like I’m a part of his team, and I like it. I like it a lot.

I snort. “You make it sound like I’m a squirrel going after a nut.”

His fingers are surprisingly warm. The tips are calloused as he angles my face back to his. His head lowers farther, closing the distance between us and making the breath catch in my throat. “I want to hear it.”

“No, you don’t. You think this fake dating is a waste of precious practicing time.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” His gaze flicks to my mouth and turns hungry. “It won’t be the first time you’ve changed my mind about something.”

“Like what?”

The guys on the ice shout something at Caleb.

He shouts back, “Ten minutes” Then he turns back to me and in a quieter voice, says, “I want to hear your dreams, Myers.”

“You have practice.”

“I have you, and I’m not finding it as easy as I thought to let you go.” His surprise at the softly spoken words mirror mine.

“I wanted to be a teacher,” I tell him quietly. Then I shake my head, my cheeks burning. People dream of being doctors, finding a cure for cancer, or being the best hockey player in the world. “I know it’s stupid. It’s not a big dream like?—”

His thumb on my mouth silences me. “With dreams, there’s no comparison. You want what you want. Why’d you want to teach?”

My eyes flick behind his shoulder. “Your coach is looking.” I thought his coach would be screaming at him to get back to it. But he seems surprisingly chill about the team captain casually pinning me to the side of the rink.

“If he wanted me on the ice, I’d know about it. Tell me.”

I look at him, trying to figure out if he means it.

He’s serious.

I shrug, twisting my fingers together. “I don’t know. It wakes something up inside me. It feels like something I would never get tired of doing. I love sharing what I know and helping people understand something they don’t.”

“So you’ve done it before, but you stopped. Why?”

I avoid meeting his gaze. “I just did.”

“But you still want it.” There’s no doubt in his voice.

I peek up at him. “What makes you think that?”

“Dreams don’t die for no reason, and I got a good look in your eyes when you were telling me yours. That fire is still burning. You need a Chinese takeout and energy drink intervention to figure out your next steps?”

I smile and try not to notice his eyes lingering on my lips.

Last night, we stuffed ourselves with Chinese food, cracked open energy drinks, and went to work ensuring Reid got his paper done.

We passed Reid books, skim read, highlighted sections, asked him questions, and bounced theories and arguments off each other. It was like taking an intensive crash course on public policy.

The tension in Reid’s shoulders eased as the hours crept by. He nodded his head, typing faster, nodding more, fingers flying over the keyboard, asking us to pass this or that book, or remind him which relevant section we’d discussed before.

The birds were tweeting when we stopped, sunlight bleeding around the sides of the blinds, and soft thumps and doors banging in the hallway announced students heading to class.

At six this morning, Reid had a fully fleshed-out solid second draft with evidence to back up his arguments. It still needs some fine-tuning like all good papers do, but the bones are there, and the bulk of the labor-intensive work is done.

He hugged Caleb and Javier goodbye. Me, he kissed and asked me to stay.

I said no. We both needed sleep, and nothing affects my Hashimoto’s like not getting enough sleep can. But I wanted to stay.

Caleb and Javier walked me to my room, and after taking my meds, I flopped into bed, exhausted, bones aching, and shivering as I desperately hoped my sleepless night hadn’t triggered a flare-up.

Even knowing I needed sleep, I barely got any because being with them is so perfect that I can’t imagine it ending. And it will end.

Let’s be honest. Even if we stay together after the championship, we’ll have, what? A summer of fun before they join the NHL. They already have girls throwing themselves at them. What will it be like when they’re professional athletes?

How can I ever compete with the beautiful women who will want them then?

Easy. I can’t. And I won’t be able to.

So I shed my first tear, knowing so many more will come.

“I have to go,” I tell Caleb, the backs of my eyelids burning.

His forehead furrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I don’t meet his eyes as I step around him and grab my bag.

“ Tobie ?” he calls after me as I hurry away.

“I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

But we won’t. Not once I’ve done what I need to.