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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Dozer

I spend the next five days walking on air. Marissa comes to my next few home games before we go for an away stint, and as much as I hate being away from her, I’m more excited to take the ice than I have been in a long time. Probably since I got drafted to the pros.

The change in my attitude isn’t lost on my teammates, either. “Dude,” Bouchard says, plopping down next to me in the locker room of our last home game before a week of away games. “Whatever’s got you feeling like this? You need to share.”

Nick barks out a laugh as he walks by. “That seems pretty unlikely. Dozer’s not exactly the sharing type, are you, Dozer?”

Grinning, I toss a wadded up sock at him. He catches it deftly and chucks it back. “Gross, man. What makes you think I want your dirty laundry?”

“Ha ha. It’s clean, asshole.”

“I’m glad you clean your asshole!” Nick quips, heading for his section of the locker room.

“That’s not—” I cut myself off when I notice the guys around me cracking up. “My asshole is sparkling, thank you very much.”

“Good to know!” shouts Johnstone from his spot across the room. “Is this what we do before games now? Swap hygiene recommendations? Do you use a bidet to get your asshole that clean, Dozer? Or is there some other secret we should all know?”

Before I can answer, Jenkins pipes up with, “Bidets are where it’s at, man. If you haven’t gotten one yet, what are you even doing with your life?”

The guys on that side of the room fall into a discussion about their feelings about bidets and recommendations for the best ones, and I shake my head, refocusing on changing into my pads.

“Seriously, though,” Bouchard says next to me, pulling on his hockey pants, followed by his sweater. “You’ve been in a good mood lately, and you’ve been playing like you’re defending your mom from being attacked by the hounds of hell. I haven’t seen you go after guys like that since I started playing here. Did you get a new nutritionist or something?”

Chuckling, I pull on my own sweater, then sit down to lace up my skates. “Nah, man. Just … happy.” Straightening, I shrug. “It’s been a good week.”

He studies me for a minute, then a broad grin stretches across his face. “Oooh, I know what’s going on. You got a new hookup. Who is she? One of the new chicks who’s been hanging around this season? Or did you decide Jenny wasn’t so bad after all?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “No. I haven’t seen Jenny since we broke up over the summer. No way in hell am I giving a second chance to someone who tried to sell my stuff out from under me for extra cash while moving in without actually asking or even telling me that’s what was happening.”

Bouchard’s eyes widen. “Damn, dude. I didn’t realize it was like that.”

I wave him off. “No worries. It’s in the past. Lesson learned.”

“You gotta warn me about these chicks, though. I almost tried to shoot my shot with her after you broke up with her.”

That gives me pause for half a second, and I sit up, eyeing him quizzically. “What stopped you?”

He jerks his chin in Nick’s direction. “Abernathy. Told me it wasn’t cool to go after a teammate’s ex-girl. I hadn’t realized you guys were all that serious, so I didn’t know …”

He trails off when he sees me shaking my head. “ She wasn’t that serious. At least not that serious about me, unless you count pumping me for as much money as she could.” I shrug. “Like I said, lesson learned. You should thank Nick, though. While I would’ve probably been pissed at you for getting with her so soon after she and I broke up, he was really just watching your ass.”

Bouchard’s eyebrows raise. “Why? You’da called me out? Beaten my ass?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “No. But Jenny’d’ve taken you for as long a ride as she could manage.”

He looks in Nick’s direction again. “I’ll have to thank him, then.” He refocuses on me. “But who’s the new chick? Anyone I know?”

I’m a little hesitant to tell him, just because I know he said that he wanted to ask her out and also because I made such a big deal about the two of us just being friends. Standing, I scratch the back of my neck and reach for my helmet. “Well, uh, yeah. You met her at Thanksgiving.”

His eyes narrow, then go wide. “What? What happened to ‘just friends?’” He makes dramatic air quotes with his fingers and scoffs. “I knew you were lying.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d you ask if it was okay to ask her out?”

“Psssh. To rile you up, obviously. You were so deep in denial, I was trying to shake you out. The two of you were staring at each other all night. I almost felt like I was watching the beginning of a porn, you know where they’re doing the bad acting to set up the thin premise that leads to sex? It was like watching that play out in real life.”

I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. “Wait, what?”

He laughs. “It was obvious to everyone that you guys want each other. The most hilarious part is how hard you were both trying to deny it. We even had a whole conversation about it after you left.”

Scanning the room, I find Nick, who’s finishing dressing and talking to some of the other guys, probably discussing the upcoming game, and decidedly not looking at me. “I don’t … I can’t …”

“Look, I’m just glad you finally figured it out, that’s all. Good for you, man.”

“Thanks,” I say absently, still stunned and staring at Nick.

He finally glances my way, cocks an eyebrow, and goes back to his own business, totally unconcerned with me and mine.

I guess that explains why he was so ready to help me fix things with Marissa, though.

Huh.

Pulling out my phone, I send Marissa a quick text.

Hope you enjoy the game. Looking forward to seeing you after!

It’s not quite what I really want to say, but this is still so new that I’m not ready to dive off the deep end. Not yet.

I’m glad she’s here, though. And even if Bouchard’s kind of a dick, he’s right that it’s good we finally figured ourselves out. Because this past week has been the best of my life, and I can only see it getting better from here.

The game is hard and fast, with all of us scrapping hard for every goal. It’s tied 1-1 early in the second period, and it stays there until the bitter end, when the Hawks score a goal right before the buzzer.

“Good game, Dozer,” Nick says as we head back to the locker room. “You played hard. I think that’s the best you’ve played all season.”

I nod my acknowledgment, still annoyed at the loss. Even if I played my best, it doesn’t change the fact that we have another loss added to our tally. With our mid-range ranking so far, Coach isn’t going to be happy when we come in tomorrow to review game tape.

It’s a quiet and subdued locker room as we all get showered and changed. My disappointment over losing can’t dim my happiness that Marissa’ll be waiting for me when I get out.

Bouchard nods to me before I leave, and Nick follows me out, smacking me on the shoulder as we go. “Glad you got your shit figured out, man.”

“Ha. Thanks for your help. Tina’s too.”

He shrugs. “We didn’t do much. And when she mentioned the kiss, I was worried that might’ve blown everything up. Glad it didn’t cause too much damage.”

I shake my head. “Nah. If anything, it was the opening we needed to actually talk about what happened. You guys helped more than you know.”

“Good. Happy to hear it.”

We exit the player’s area together, and Nick quickly walks over to where Tina’s waiting for him. No kids tonight. Sometimes she brings them, but just as often she has them stay home with the nanny.

It takes me a second to find her, but I don’t even try to repress the giant grin that comes to my face when I spot Marissa. And it’s gratifying to see her face light up at the sight of me, too.

She maneuvers out from behind the women blocking her and puts herself in my path. “Hi,” she says when I reach her, sounding shy for some reason.

“Hey,” I murmur before wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her close. She lets out an adorable little squeak of surprise, her hands going to my shoulders, but she sinks into me in the most gratifying way when I kiss her. God, I love that I get to just do that now.

When we part, she darts a look around, subtly running a finger under her lower lip, her cheeks a delightful shade of pink. I can’t stop grinning, and she shakes her head at me, though she’s still smiling too.

“Are we going out for a drink like normal?”

I study her face to see if there’s more to the question. “Or?” I prompt when she doesn’t say anything else.

Her smile grows wider. “Or we could go home,” she murmurs.

A surge of blood goes south, and I genuinely have to think for a second. But this is so new, and I’m hitting the road again tomorrow, so I don’t want to waste any time we have together right now. “You know I love going out after a game, but tonight let’s just go home.”

“Home it is.” She steps back and laces her fingers through mine. “I took a taxi here, so I can just ride back with you.”

My eyes widen, and I dart a look at her. This is new.

She shrugs. “It seemed like a good idea. Was I wrong?”

I shake my head in a firm denial. “No. You’re perfect.”

Her head turns sharply in my direction, her look incredulous, and she lets out a bubble of laughter. “I’m glad you think so.”

From her response, I know she’s thinking of all the ways she’s been told she doesn’t measure up in the past, but I mean it. For me, she’s perfect.