Page 12 of Wake Me Up (New England Bay Sharks #5)

A s I walk outside to the parking lot to wait for Cash after the game’s over, I’m painfully aware of the man standing beside me.

I don’t know why Tripp isn’t leaving, but I wish he would.

If people see him standing beside me, they are going to talk.

I don’t want the rumor going around that I’ve moved on.

I can’t do that to Jamie or my kids. I vowed forever, and I don’t want others thinking I broke my vow.

I don’t want my kids thinking that either.

Not to mention, he makes me incredibly nervous, and my legs almost forget to work when he’s beside me. I glance nervously at Tripp, not really understanding why he’s still here. Don’t get me wrong; he’s nice to look at, but he should really go.

“Thanks for coming.” I smile politely. “I’m sure it meant so much to Cash to have you here.” I dig in my purse to find my keys. “And I bet Cane enjoyed seeing you again too. Wherever he is.”

“You played one helluva game, kid.” Tripp pats Cash’s shoulder just as Cane catches up to us all. “If you’re ever up for it, I could work with you a bit. Give you some private lessons?”

“Hell yes!” Cash says and snaps his eyes to mine before I have the chance to tell him to watch his mouth. “Sorry.”

Tripp surprises me when he looks over at Cane too. “That goes for you too. If you ever want to get back in the arena, I’d love to see whatcha got.”

For a split second, Cane almost looks excited. But then he shrugs it off politely. “Thanks, but I’m focusing on baseball. But I appreciate it.”

Cane is coming off more standoffish than usual, and I just hope it’s not because he thinks I’m getting too close with Tripp. That is the furthest thing from the truth because I don’t even know the guy.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know,” Tripp says, waving to all of us. “Have a good night, y’all.”

“You too,” I say lightly. “Thanks again for coming to watch the game.”

“My pleasure,” he drawls before slowly spinning away from us and walking away.

I have to tear my eyes away from his body, not wanting to be a pervert, checking him out—because I have no business doing that.

“Mom, can we go to Maria’s?” Cash asks, slinging his duffel higher on his shoulder. “I want chicken Alfredo.”

“Meaning I won’t have to cook? Sold!” I say, looking at Cane. “What do you think?”

“Sure,” he answers with a shrug. “As long as I can get garlic knots.”

“Mom, we should ask Tripp to come with us,” Cash blurts out, looking in the direction where Tripp is walking toward his truck. “I mean, he came to my game and offered me and Cane lessons. It’s the least we can do.”

I chew my lip nervously. Sitting together at the game was already reason enough for people to start spreading rumors that I’d moved on.

But if people see us all out to dinner together?

Dear God, how awful would that look? And I want to make sure Cane would be fine with it too.

Hockey is sometimes a sore subject for him, and now there’s this hockey-player dude showing up every five seconds.

“Yeah, he’s right,” Cane adds, as if reading my worried mind. “He’s really cool. And he’s been nice to us.” He smirks. “And … he’s famous.”

“I don’t know, guys.” I frown, thinking back to the end of the game when more people started to recognize him and came over. “Everyone there will probably freak out and want his autograph. That sounds … hectic for us.”

“Can’t we at least ask him?” Cash argues, which is unusual for him. His brother, not so much. “Please, Mom? What if he has to eat dinner all alone?”

I inhale, watching Tripp just as his hand reaches for the door handle of his truck. It is kind of sad, seeing him all alone, but maybe that’s just because I’m never alone.

Every now and then, I’d love to be …

“Hey, number thirty-five,” I call loudly, making him turn around and look at me, confused. I hold my hand up, waving him toward us before we take some steps to him.

When we meet in the middle, I swallow down my nerves, hoping he doesn’t think I’m coming on to him.

I’m sure he’d find great humor out of that, with me being a mother of three with leggings and an oversize crewneck sweatshirt on.

I can’t even imagine the type of women he’s used to surrounding him. Models, I’m sure.

“We’re going to Maria’s, the Italian restaurant, for dinner,” I say, forcing the nervous words from my mouth. “Care to join?”

He doesn’t smile, but instead, he looks a bit concerned, which instantly makes me regret asking.

“I’d love to, but, at the risk of sounding like a complete toolbag …

it’s not easy for me to go to dinner in Portland without people asking for pictures and autographs.

In the arena, I could get away with it because we weren’t super close to anyone.

But at a restaurant … it’s hard.” He pauses, looking at Cash and Cane as they stare hopefully at him.

“I know the owner a bit, and he’s a Sharks fan.

I’ll call and figure something out.” As he talks, he seems to relax more and more, and his lips turn up in a small grin. “Let’s do it. It’ll be fine.”

Tripp’s eyes connect with mine, and he waves toward his large, dark-colored truck. “Do y’all want to take my truck? I’ll bring you back to your car after.”

My body tenses, and the voice in the back of my head reminds me that this is wrong.

Even if I only asked him because the boys had practically begged and even if his intentions are solely to help my kids out—which I know they are—the fact is, I find him attractive, and he makes my stomach have butterflies.

Therefore, it would be incredibly wrong of me to ride in a truck with him to dinner with my kids.

With our kids—as in my and my husband’s.

But when I see my boys’ eyes light up with excitement, I know I can’t take this from them.

“Sure. Why not?” I say, shifting uncomfortably.

It’s almost as if he knows because his eyes remain on me for a few seconds, like he’s making sure I actually want him to come with us.

“Holy sh—” Cane stops himself from swearing, thankfully. “We’re going to ride in Tripp Talmage’s truck.”

“Wait till my friends hear about this,” Cash whispers excitedly, starting toward Tripp’s truck. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

The boys take off, but Tripp stays beside me as we walk. “You know, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I can tell them something came up. That way, you don’t have to be the bad guy.”

It’s crazy to me that he can read me enough to know I’m uneasy right now. I hid it as best I could, but apparently, I’m not a good actress. I could play it off like I’m fine, but the warmth in his voice tells me I don’t have to.

I glance over at him. “Is it that noticeable?”

His face softens, and he shrugs. “Well, maybe not to everyone else, but to me, yeah,” he says.

I frown because he barely knows me. I don’t know why it would be easy for him to notice things.

Quickly, he carries on. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Freya. If your ex-husband wouldn’t be okay with this—with us all going to dinner—I don’t want to force you into it.”

“ Husband ,” I say, correcting him because I can’t even stop myself. It’s an instinctual thing, but it’s also out of respect for Jamie.

“What?” he utters, coming to a stop.

“You said ex-husband, but … it’s husband,” I say sharply.

I know I’m being weird right now, and I know I could have let it go, but I shouldn’t have to. He may be dead, but we were very much together when he died.

“Oh, I didn’t …” His sentence dies. “I didn’t realize you were still married. I mean, I saw the ring, but then you said it was just you and the kids, and I guess … I don’t really know what I thought.”

My boys waste no time getting in the truck, but instead of one of them sitting in the front, like I hoped, they both get in the back, leaving the front seat open for me.

“He passed away five years ago,” I whisper, not wanting my boys to hear me. “He’s still my husband. He’s just … not here anymore.”

My cheeks are flaming hot, not because I’m embarrassed to talk about my husband, but because I’m wondering how awkward I’m making Tripp feel right now.

He was nice enough to care about my kids and their future in hockey, and now, I’m probably making him want to climb under a rock.

I mean, what do you say to someone you barely know in this circumstance?

“Fuck, Freya,” he utters, and I don’t have to even look at him to know exactly how he’s gazing at me. With pity, no doubt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t … I had no idea.”

He’s talking to me like we’ve known each other forever, and even though that’s not the case … I feel sort of like it is.

Flashing him a look of reassurance, I shrug my shoulders. “How could you have known? We are basically strangers who have met a few times,” I say gently before glancing at his truck. “The boys are waiting. Guess we’d better go.”

Walking toward his truck, he surprises me when his hand touches my arm. When I turn toward him, his blue eyes stare into mine. “I’m really sorry about your husband, Freya.”

I pull in a sharp breath as tears threaten to spill from my eyes, and I swallow back the lump of emotion. “Me too,” I whisper before I turn and climb into the truck.

I feel like I’m making a mistake, going to dinner with a man who makes me feel so … on edge. But it means something to my kids that we do it. So, here I go.

We all have ordered, and now we’re waiting for our food in the back room of this restaurant, out of sight from anyone else. Cane and Freya talk about the baseball camp he wants to go to, and Cash chimes in every now and then.

It’s crazy to be sitting across from a woman who is undoubtedly one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.

She has raised three kids alone. Her youngest would have been just a toddler when she lost her dad and Cash would have been five and Cane seven.

Sadly, I know the loss they felt because I had gone through it too.

A loss like that, it changes you. It changed me.

And even if they don’t know it yet, it changed them too.

It changes the way you trust people. It makes you keep a guard up—scared that if you let someone else in, the world may take them from you too.

Loss has a way of twisting everything, making it all more difficult. I just hope they don’t turn out like me. Thirty-three years old and alone because I’ve spent my whole life avoiding feeling anything.

“What’s it like, being on the ice? Being watched by so many people around the world?” Cane asks me, taking a sip from his Coke. “Do you get nervous?”

“I used to,” I admit. “Now, the goal is sort of like my comfort zone, and I’ve learned to tune it all out. The chants. The screaming and cheering. It’s not being on the ice that gets to me. It’s never wanting to let anyone down that does.”

“Who’s one competitor you hate to see on the ice?” Cash asks me.

I think about it for a moment and grin. “Probably Cam Hardy. He’s lightning fast and as smooth as they come. When we play the Bruins, we all have to be on our toes. But Hunter Thompson? He’s also a tough one.”

“Has it been hard since Kolt had a heart attack?” Cane blurts out, and Freya’s mouth hangs open.

“Cane!” she hisses. “That’s … kind of rude to say.”

“What? He did have a heart attack.” Cane shrugs obliviously.

I try to fight a chuckle as I watch his mom’s eyes narrow to slits.

“It changed our dynamic, not having him out there, for sure,” I tell him truthfully. “We all panicked, thinking our season was in jeopardy. But the team has stepped up our game, and Kolt has been at every practice, helping with the defense side of things. So, we’ve been okay.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” Cane utters into his glass. “I want a tattoo.”

“You’re twelve. Calm down,” Freya grumbles, shaking her head at her son. “And do I need to remind you that the last time you had blood work, you cri—”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Cane cuts her off, not wanting her to embarrass him. “No tats for me. I get it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says with a smile just before the waitress delivers our food.

It’s not hard to notice their dynamic with it being just them and their mom, and since it’s been like this for five years, I’m sure they’re pretty used to it. It’s more than clear she does a great job and puts them before herself.

I know she’s still mourning her husband. She probably always will be. But I’d love to see her smile again and know I put it there.

Among other things. Things that are probably out of the question, and yet every time I look at her plump lips … I can’t stop the dirty thoughts that rush into my mind, even if I know they are wrong because she clearly still considers herself married .

We all eat and talk about different things. Nothing of importance, but still … it feels important because I know just me being here means something to the boys. I hope it means something to Freya, too, but I know that’s wishful thinking.

I’ve never been one to want to be around kids, but these two? I’d hang out with them all the time and be fine with it. And maybe that’s because I see myself in both of them.