Page 52 of Unrivaled Love (D.C. Renegades #2)

"What's that?"

"It's like the Stanley Cup but for the whole world and way harder to earn." Ivanna says with a wink.

"See, you get it!" I say with a smile and the girls all laugh.

***

“Oh, c’mon babe! You fanned on that shot.” I grumble after Crosby basically swings and misses a clean set up from Emmett. He’ll be regretting that one. I know I would be.

“I have learned so much about this game watching with you.” Harper says as she pulls a fried pickle from Caroline’s plate. We decided to meet at a bar tonight to watch the game together.

Training is in full swing and Bryson and I have found a balance. We wake up, make breakfast together and go our separate ways for the day. It was almost like we both were getting ready for work on Monday. Like a normal couple.

My skincare treasures and cosmetics cover the bathroom counter. My books mix with his on the shelves. We meal prep together and lay on the floor to foam roll together.

Not as sexy as it sounds.

This was his first away game stretch. It’s weird being in Bryson’s place alone. I still call it Bryson’s condo but, if I’m being honest, it feels like our place .

When Harper and Caroline asked if I wanted to come out to watch the game with them I said yes. But now, the Renegades are down three with nine minutes left in the game. Not looking good.

“I bet Aiden appreciates you’re not all up in his game though.” I say with a sip of my sparkling water.

“It’s actually a bit of a sore spot.” Caroline says. When Harper gives her a I-can’t-believe-you-said-that look she shrugs. “What? Jo is a Stick Handler now. Vault is open.”

“It’s cool, I don’t need to know.” I say, quickly trying to smooth things over as the game comes back on. I keep my attention there while Harper continues.

“Aiden beat this random record last year and he didn’t tell me about it and I wasn’t paying attention either. We’ve learned to share more with each other.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Harper was deeeeeepressed for two weeks and Aiden moped around like an abandoned puppy.” Caroline informs me as she rubs her growing baby bump. “But, now they’re as solid as can be.”

The game goes to commercial and the bar starts pumping music through the speakers. It’s a casual but spiffy sports bar with huge T.V.s on each wall. Games are playing all around us and there are quite a few Renegades fans.

“Ivanna just texted about the score. A reminder of how to cheer them up after losses.” Caroline says as she thumbs through her phone.

“I wonder if Aiden will figure it out?” Harper muses.

“You’d have to make sure you only offered head after losses. I don’t have that kind of control.” I tell her. “And, knowing Bryson he’d probably throw the game to get more time in my mouth.”

Caroline cackles. “Do you think Ivanna thought of that?”

“Is Vlad superstitious?” I ask.

“I’m not sure, but I mean they all are to a degree. Right?” Caroline says.

“Aiden is.”

“I suppose.” I ponder. “Bryson has some habits but I haven’t really seen him be rigid about anything.”

“Are you?” Harper asks.

“I have a few quirks.” I smile. “I have a particular order I follow to put on my gear. But that’s mostly it.”

“How do you get over a loss?” Caroline asks.

“Well, I don’t give myself a blowie.” I joke and they both chuckle. “I umm, usually just go back to the tape of the game and study it. Then I will focus on where I fell short in practice the next day.”

“Huh,” Caroline huffs out.

“What?” I ask because it definitely seems like she’s got more to say.

“I just wish you had someone at home to give you head after a loss is all.” She says.

The game resumes and I quietly let her words sink in as we watch the boys play. D.C. gets a power play but they can’t capitalize and eventually the final buzzer sounds and a loss hits the books.

“Okay, well home we go to wait for our men!” Caroline says with a mock salute after she zips her big puffer coat.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Harper says with a smile as she gives me a hug. Our rideshares arrive and we go our separate ways.

I pull out my phone to text Bryson about the game.

Tough one. Do you want to talk about it?

Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he isn’t like me after a loss. We haven’t actually talked about his mental state before and after games as he got back into the season.

Yeah, that one sucked. Do you want me to talk about it?

I do if you do. I watched with Caroline and Harper.

Did you have fun?

Yeah, they’re great girls.

Even though we lost.

I guess I don’t live and die by your game scores.

Brutal Killer. And here I thought you were trying to be the world’s best WAG.

Nope. World’s hottest? Maybe.

Definitely.

The loss was tough. I could have put my fist through the boards for fanning on that shot in the third. But, I’m gonna shower and grab a meal for the trip home.

Kay, what’s your ETA?

Midnight, maybe 1 a.m.

Will you be up?

I can try. Practice was tough today and I’m exhausted. We can talk more about your game in the morning.

I’m still going to wake you up when I get home.

Obviously, but I won’t be able to talk since my mouth will be busy.

Jesus. I’m gonna be hard in the shower.

Learn to control yourself, Svoboda.

Impossible when it comes to you.

***

Bryson did in fact wake me gently when he got home and when I tried to give him head he insisted on sixty-nining so we both settled into sleep satisfied.

I’m letting him sleep in a little bit but neither of us have today off. In the kitchen, I turn on some music and start to make noise with the pots and pans; hopefully stirring him from his slumber in a gentle, but also urgent way.

The talk about losses last night is still with me.

I keep wondering where Bryson’s headspace is.

It’s December, early in the hockey season that lasts until April, and the Renegades are trading third and fourth spots with New Jersey in their division.

It’s too soon to really talk about the playoffs but there’s also plenty of attention on the reigning champs.

And Bryson, the reigning MVP.

“Mmm, morning.” Bryson hums as he steps out of his bedroom. His physique is as cut as ever but, eight weeks into the season, his torso is also spotted with bruises from clashes on the ice. One particularly ugly one under his ribs from a cross-check has started to yellow .

“Morning Bry, how are you feeling?” I ask as I start to mix up some protein pancakes.

“Good, can I make some coffee?” He asks as he steps into the kitchen.

“Of course.” He gives me a kiss on the cheek as he passes behind me and I can’t wait to spend every day like this.

Someday.

But we both have to retire from our professional careers to get there.

“Can I ask you a question?” I start. We’ve gotten to know each other so well over the last few months but this loss mentality thing won’t quit.

“You already did, Killer.” He sasses and I bite my tongue to hold back the sassier response. “Okay, okay,” he laughs, “go ahead, what do you want to know?”

“How are you feeling after the loss?”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, like are you good or are you dwelling?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

“That’s it?” I ask turning away from the bowl to face him.

“What else are you expecting?” He asks as he pulls two mugs out of the cabinet.

“I dunno, a sour mood, frustration, drive to fix the mistakes.” Not that I’m describing myself at all.

“It stings for sure, and there’s always some frustration on the ice when things aren’t going our way.

But we’ve got 82 games to get through, some are going to be losses.

All I can do is show up and do my best with my boys.

” He pops a grape into his mouth. “Plus, Coach Bradford gets frustrated enough for all of us.”

“So, you’re like, fine. That’s it. Not concerned about losing by three goals last night?” I ask because I can’t really believe he’s so chill about it.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I give everything on the ice so there isn’t much left afterwards.

And if I sulk then I have to spend more energy getting back into the right mindset for the next game.

And I’ve got a game every couple of days, sometimes back to back.

I don’t have the luxury of a week to mope and get out of it. ”

“What?”

“No, I mean. Like-”

“Oh, no, I think I get what you mean.”

“C’mon Jo, I’m tired. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sure, no problem.” I say as I turn back to the bowl. I measure out the cinnamon to add as I continue. “It’s good to know you can just pop right back from your losses. Water under the bridge. And I guess that makes sense, you were a headcase after winning not losing.”

“Hey, c’mon that’s not fair either.”

“You’re right. I just don’t understand how you can be so relaxed about losing.”

“You want to know why?” He demands from behind me. His tone has shifted so I turn around to face him.

“Why?” I ask quietly.

“Because, Jo, losing reminds me I’m human. Winning makes me feel invincible. And in the last several months I’ve added something to my life that makes me feel whole in a way I never could have imagined.”

“What?”

“You.” He steps forward and holds my face in his hands.

“Jo, you know and love me regardless of my stat sheet. And I love you regardless of yours. I want to be the one to help you bounce back after losses and learn to not take yourself too seriously. I want to help you channel that intensity into your practice and games. I want the time we spend together to be full of laughter and fun.”

His thumbs caress my cheeks as he speaks and I feel my knees get wobbly.

“Makes sense.” I shrug .

“It does, doesn’t it.” Bryson presses a kiss to my forehead. “Now, let’s get cooking. Bry Guy is hungry!”

I laugh and turn to the bowl. As he slides up next to me with two steaming cups of coffee I decide to have a little harmless fun with Bryson like he so obviously wants.

“Can you grab the eggs?” I ask as I turn back to the batter bowl.

“Yes, chef.”

When he returns to the counter and sets the carton down I attempt to lift the bowl full of pancake mix but it’s stuck.

“Oh shit.” I grumble and try to pull it off the counter again.

“What’s up?” Bryson asks as he pulls out some more fruit from the fridge.

“Well, it’s like this bowl is stuck to the counter. I can’t get it up and I need to move it.”

“Really? That’s weird.” He says as he steps over. I let him observe me trying to get the bowl off the counter.

And maybe I sell it a little bit with a straining sound like I’m attempting to lift a car.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Killer. Here.” Bryson steps up to the bowl. “This is so weird.” He mumbles as he sets his feet.

I step back and bite my lips between my teeth.

“Do you want me to count you down?” I ask.

“No, I’m just so surprised this bowl is stuck. Like how would this even happen?” He asks as he leans from one side to the other to investigate.

“Beats me. But I need to move it so, can you try?”

“Okay, yeah.” He says and he positions his hands on the side of the bowl.

Adorably he exhales and then POOF! The bowl sails off the counter and sends two cups of pancake mix all over Bryson’s face, chest, and the floor .

The laugh flies out of my mouth and I actually wheeze because I’m not getting enough air.

“You, little.” Bryson says slowly as he blinks away the debris and swipes the flour from his face.

“You’re the one who asked for more fun and laughter.” I throw back at him.

“Don’t be bratty.” He warns as he scoops me up over his shoulder, spanks my ass, and marches us to the bathroom. “You need to clean up the mess you made.”

Still laughing, I respond, “Gladly.”