Coach Benson’s punishment for my fight with O’Neill consisted of making me sit five consecutive practice sessions in the stands and disallowing me from playing this week’s game. He looks as pissed off about the arrangement as I am, but neither one of us is saying anything about it because we were both in the wrong.
I shouldn’t have brawled with a sore loser who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but Benson shouldn’t have had restrictions on his players’ personal lives when it’s none of his damn business in the first place. So we’re letting our frustrations simmer down before we finally broach the subject with one another.
The free time that I gained from missing this week’s game meant that I could finalise this semester’s essays, along with finishing up my thesis and getting it sent off to my supervisor.
Knowing that I’ll end up sharing what grades I get with Fallon has been the shove that I needed to actually put some effort into finishing my assignments.
Fallon only stayed at the hockey house one night this week because she has a crazy amount of essays to finish, on top of this secret cheer training that she’s refusing to tell me any details about. I could tell that she was barely conscious from how hard she’s been working so we took the evening easy. We watched a hockey replay on my bed and then made out a little before we went to sleep.
Obviously, after a night of no action I woke up harder than fucking steel, but I wasn’t about to try anything on with her when Fallon still seemed so exhausted.
But my week of hockey punishments is now over, as are a bunch of Fallon’s essays, so after my first practice back this afternoon she’s going to come to the rink and let me skate with her for a while.
Before I head to the ice I drive my truck to my mom’s diner. I made the mistake a couple of days ago of answering her FaceTime call while forgetting that I had a whole black eye, meaning that she lost her shit and has insisted to inspect my face.
I pull up into a parking space and flick my keys around my finger as I walk my way toward the diner doors. Fallon only works Sundays so she definitely shouldn’t be here but I’m still nervous as hell about the idea of bumping into her, and then her somehow realising that the woman she’s working for is her boyfriend’s mom.
I’ve been meaning to tell her everything – to explain my fucked-up logic of getting her this job without telling her about it – but it’s so damn backwards that I can’t bring myself to do it.
How the hell do I tell a girl who explicitly told me that she hates involving other people in her personal business that I went behind her back and orchestrated this whole thing?
There’s no justifying something that stupid, not when I could have been upfront from the start. My only option so that I don’t seem insane is to keep on lying to her, even though I’m essentially just digging myself a bigger hole.
I grip a hand through my hair and shoulder-shove the door open, my brain in overdrive.
Fuck it. She needed a source of income and I was able to help her get it. I didn’t want her working somewhere shady, so I did what I had to do. I know she’d hate that I pulled some strings, but I can’t bring myself to regret the decision.
I just hope that when I finally do tell her what I did, she won’t think that I crossed a serious line.
I jerk my chin at the regulars who have been coming here since I was a kid and then I open the counter-door, ducking through the back to find my mom.
She’s leaning over her desk in the small back office, inputting data into a spreadsheet as I rap my knuckles on the open door.
Wren peeks up over our mom’s shoulder and starts kicking her feet excitedly.
“Sup Tiny,” I grunt, walking into the room so that I can steal her from my mom’s arms.
My mom shoots me a look as I heave up the baby, narrowing her eyes on my healing cheekbone and giving me a scolding triple-tut. Then she turns her attention back to the keyboard.
I smush a kiss to Wren’s cheek and then pull the hood of her baby-grow over her head. It’s small and furry and has teddy bear ears at the top.
“Can I bring her to practice?” I ask, only half-joking.
My mom shuts her laptop and turns to me with her arms folded over her chest.
“If your face is any indication of your ability to skate, then absolutely not.” She points a finger up at my eye and asks, “What the hell happened?”
“Some jackass talking smack–”
“Language,” she says in a frantic hush, her eyes wide as she gestures towards the baby in my arms.
“Shit, sorry.” I cover one of Wren’s ears and repeat quietly, “There was a jackass talking smack.”
“Oh my God.” My mom presses her palm between her eyes. “You do realise that you actually just said more curse words, and then repeated the ones that you said before, right?”
She tries to take Wren from my arms but I hold the baby higher so that my mom can’t reach her.
Wren giggles loudly, making me smirk down at my mom.
“See? She likes it when I hold her.”
“Why did you get into a fight that was so bad it gave you a black eye? Don’t you see how irresponsible that is?” My mom squints up at my cut and adds, “How’d you clean it?”
My cheeks instantly flame because technically I didn’t clean it.
Fallon did.
I tuck Wren back against my chest, rocking her so that she doesn’t do her little attention-seeking scream thing, and then I grumble quietly, “That’s a lot of questions, woman.”
My mom stares at me for a beat before rolling her eyes. “Oh Lord, you really are your father’s son, aren’t you? Did you get into a fight over that cute girl you’ve got working here?”
My beet red cheeks answer her question for me.
“Aw, honey,” she coos, breathing out a sigh. “Why are boys so silly?”
She brushes past me out of the office and I follow her into the main room of the diner.
I can’t really justify acting like a brute, but I give it a shot anyway.
“You know I’ve stopped brawling like I used to. The fight was one-sided for a good two minutes before I finally got involved. The guy on the opposing team was talking shi–”
My mom shoots me that you’re holding a baby look so I quickly rephrase.
“I mean, the guy on the opposing team started saying some… real crude stuff, about her. About Fallon. And she was in the crowd too so I was worried that she’d hear him. Then he started pushing on me and when he said this one final thing I just…”
I shake my head at the memory. Wren bats my face with her baby-grow paw.
My mom collects the empty mugs from her patrons and when we get back to the counter she asks, “What did Fallon have to say? Is she the one who disinfected the cut?”
I look down and clear my throat. “Yeah, she cleaned the cut.”
She also kinda told me that she didn’t mind watching me fight, but I decide to leave that part out because I’m trying to not feel good about being a bruiser.
“That’s very sweet,” my mom says, reaching up to take the baby back.
My mom is pretty young for a mother of six. Somehow she always looks even younger when she’s holding Wren in her arms.
I give my mom a peck on the cheek and then jerk my thumb over towards my truck. “I have to get going. I’ve got practice and then…”
My mom raises an eyebrow at me with a knowing smile on her face. “And then…?” she teases.
I scratch roughly at the back of my head, avoiding her eyes.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumble, laughing nervously to avoid her question. “See y’all later.”
“Mm-hm,” my mom smirks, and I hide my smile as I duck out of the front door.
*
Benson blows the whistle, calling time on today’s practice session.
I tear open the fastenings on my gloves as I work my way over to the other side of the rink with my teammates.
“Wilde. A word.”
I pause and turn my head to glance over at Coach. He’s staring out at the rink with his arms folded across his chest, radiating almost as much displeasure at the idea of having to talk out our differences as I am.
Fallon is about to be here in less than three minutes, so I want this conversation wrapped up as soon as damn possible.
“Yeah, Coach,” I say, tucking my gloves and my stick under one of my biceps and then pulling off my helmet so that I can quickly shake out my fringe.
He stays stoically silent for a few long beats and then he releases a sigh, stepping down from the substitution box so that we can talk face to face.
“You understand why I had to freeze your play for a week, don’t you?” he asks.
I nod my head. “Yeah. ’Cause I did some dumb shit at the Larch Peak U game.”
“Even after I warned you at the start of last term to keep your game clean,” he reminds me, narrowing his eyes slightly.
I shove my tongue in my cheek, irritated, but I nod again anyway. “Yeah, you did. I lost my head for a second and it won’t happen again.”
Benson watches me carefully before nodding in agreement. Then he clears his throat and begins, “So about the girl–”
“Coach,” I warn him, because this is one thing that I won’t be changing my stance on.
He holds up a palm, asking me to hear him out.
“I only ever give my players the advice that I wish I’d been given, and telling y’all to not get too invested with anyone was a precaution so that you would never hinder your game. For this exact reason. For the type of thing that happened over at Larch Peak. But…”
He glances away from me briefly and rubs his hand down his jaw.
“I can see now that what I was really doing was hindering my players. I should have been coaching you about how to handle the heat, rather than preventing it from happening completely. I mean, that’s my damn job – to coach you about every aspect of the game, not just the physical play. And there’s more smack talk in hockey than trucks on the damn highway.
“Having some good-for-nothing chip-on-his-shoulder yuppie prick get under your skin when you beat his ass on his home turf is inevitable, and I take full responsibility for going the wrong way around this situation. Jesus, Hunter – you’re one of the best players I’ve ever coached. I know that I’ve always had the ‘tough love’ approach but in this instance I’m gonna give it to you straight. I’m in the wrong. My players’ relationships off the ice are just as important as their relationships on the ice. Don’t think I didn’t notice the fact that when you came to practice after the Larch Peak U shit-show your cheek had been freakin’ tended to.”
My face grows hot, remembering how Fallon took care of me that night, in every way that I needed.
“That’s a good thing, Wilde, to have someone behind the scenes who has your back like that. Not to mention, it’s damn well rare. So,” he says, clasping his hands together like he’s about to wrap this up. “You apologised, and now I apologise. And as long as you can work through the fact that some guys are gonna try and push the nastiest buttons that they can get their hands on, and as long as you don’t try to murder them when they do, I want us to put this shit behind us and get back to winning the damn championship.”
He said exactly what I needed him to, so I don’t hesitate for a second.
“Yes, Coach.”
He nods once before heading down the corridor to his office.
I watch him go until he shuts himself behind the door and when I turn back to the rink I feel like I’ve had a weight lifted from my shoulders.
I set my gloves, helmet, and stick down by the audience seats and then I step back out onto the rink just as the doors push open.
Fallon peeks around the door and I’m immediately skating my way over to her. She pads delicately towards me, a small smile on her lips.
She’s wearing that baby blue two-piece and she has the box with her skates in tucked under one of her arms.
I skid to a stop at the edge of the rink and step out so that I can join her in the stands.
“Hey – ah!” she squeals as I pick her up by her ass and bury my face in the warm curve of her neck.
“How’d you always smell so damn good, baby?” I murmur, walking slowly over to the nearest seat so that I can set her down and help her put her skates on.
Before I get her sat down her hands fly to my face, her fingers moving delicately as she inspects my cut.
Over the days that we’ve been apart this week she’s been texting me for daily updates. I wanted to play it up at first because her petting me is damn addictive, but after around three days the cut was basically completely healed.
But Fallon’s still looking at me like I’m a wounded soldier and – I have to admit it – I’m loving her affection.
“The bruising has almost faded,” she says quietly, stroking a knuckle over the slight mark.
I smirk as I free her skates from the box and lower myself down onto one knee, asking her teasingly, “You gonna miss my black eye?”
She squirms a little on the seat, her cheeks growing pink, because I know damn well that she loved me looking like a bruiser.
I wink at her and she swallows a little gulp.
Then I pull her trainers off and begin sliding her feet into her skates.
“You looked like you were in a good mood when you came in here,” I tell her, wrenching her laces taut so that I can tie the boots as securely as possible.
“I had a lot of closure this morning,” she admits with a smile.
My eyes fly straight up to hers and my fingers pause their pulling, because the word ‘closure’ doesn’t exactly sound great to her new boyfriend.
“Oh my God, no, I didn’t mean with us!” she says quickly, and I drop my head straight down to her thighs, letting out a groan of relief.
She leashes her fingers through my hair and my shoulder muscles immediately relax.
I grind my forehead against the heat of her lap for a few more seconds, calming my breathing, before pulling away and getting back to work on her laces.
“I mean with school stuff and cheer stuff,” she continues, her hands moving down to massage the back of my neck.
I arch into her touch, grunting, and she works her fingers into me harder.
“I got an email from Parker Ward, the professor who I originally wanted to be my referee, and she was all apologetic about not being able to help me with the grant submission. I mean, she could be totally lying but it sounds like she’s had an insane few months, and you never know what someone’s going through, so it felt good to get some closure on that because it also all worked out anyway. My new referee did an amazing job.”
I nod my head and get to work on her other skate.
“And then on top of that I ran into Blair. You know, the girl who kind of gave me two concussions?”
This time, I stop completely, stilling my hands so that I can look up at Fallon’s face. I’ve never met the chick who got Fallon benched from her comp squad and I don’t exactly have great feelings about her.
“What’d she say?” I ask, my jaw ticking slightly.
Fallon giggles at my murderous expression and leans forward to press a kiss to my mouth.
I’m immediately kissing her back full force, wrapping one hand up in her hair as I slide my tongue inside of her.
“Hunter,” she laughs, scrunching her nose like I’m embarrassing her. Maybe she thinks that there are cameras in the rink or something and we’ll get caught on tape.
Seeing as there actually are cameras in the rink I ease up on mauling her.
“Basically,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and exposing the swells of her fucking beautiful breasts. “Basically, she was all embarrassed about what happened. She told me that she ended up dropping Whitney a bunch of times too – not that that makes things any better. I mean, that actually makes things worse – but she told me that, even though she’d always wanted to do competitive college cheer, she realised that she was severely messing things up for the squad, so she’s stepped down off the team and she’s going to take over the managing side of things next year instead. I mean, it doesn’t take away from the fact that I literally couldn’t compete this year and therefore I became ineligible for the Master’s sport scholarship but…” Fallon shrugs and gives me a cute smile. “I guess everything happens for a reason right? If I hadn’t been kicked off the team then I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have met…”
I feel my heart stop momentarily in my chest.
If Fallon hadn’t been kicked off the team, then she wouldn’t have met me.
It’s not an option. The thought of us not being together is something I won’t even let her comprehend.
“Fallon, I promise you, I would find you in every lifetime.”
I caress both of her calves so that she knows I’ve finished lacing her up and Fallon’s eyes finally drop down to my position in front of her. Her irises turn sparkly as she takes in my stance for the first time since she sat down.
I’ve got one knee pressed into the ground and the other cocked up next to hers.
I breathe out a laugh as I realise what’s going on in her head.
“Get used to it,” I grin. “This ain’t the last time you’ll see me down on one knee.”
A little gasp leaves her throat as I drag her up to her feet, feeling way too pleased with myself as her body wobbles in my arms.
“Don’t be silly,” she says breathlessly as I walk us out onto the ice, her soft peachy behind pressed up against my front.
“You think I’m kidding?” I ask her, settling my chin against her shoulder. I wrap my arms around her middle and kick off gently on the ice. “I’m man enough to tell you that you’re wife material, Fallon.”
She stays quiet but snuggles further into my chest, silently letting me know that she likes what I’m saying.
This is the cool down that I needed, in more ways than one. Reinstating my professional relationship with my coach after the fight at Larch Peak, and then reclaiming my romantic relationship with Fallon after almost a week away from each other. Plus, I love that she’s also had a bunch of her academic relationships fixed, so that she has two less things to stress over from here on out.
While I let myself physically unwind on the ice, Fallon gently pushes at my hands that are currently encased around her ribs, and she kicks off away from me, gliding fast to the centre of the rink.
I follow her lead and start circling around her, keeping a slight distance as she wraps one hand around her ankle.
My eyebrows fly upwards and I halt to a stop as she suddenly kicks up her leg into the air and begins spinning like a ballerina.
“Fallon,” I rasp, quickly swooping towards her. It takes about ten seconds before she finally loses her balance so I grip my arms tight around her back and she laughs into my chest, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
“The hell was that?” I pant, clutching her desperately to my pecs. Something catches my eyes in the periphery of my vision, and when I lift my head to the sidelines I realise that half of my team is watching us.
They’re standing there with their jaws on the floor because they just watched Fallon spin more beautifully than a trained figure skater.
Tanner shoots me a smirk because he’s just realised how flexible my girlfriend is.
I give him a long look at my middle finger as I press a possessive kiss to Fallon’s forehead.
When I pull back she grins up at me, looking incredibly pleased with herself.
“I thought I’d watch some skating videos and maybe try it out on you,” she laughs. Then she pats at her blown-out curls and says happily, “I guess I’m a natural.”
“Damn straight,” I tell her gruffly, hauling her roughly against my body.
She senses the eyes on her as I spin her on the ice and when she glances over to my teammates she’s immediately shy.
“How long are y’all staying up on here?” Tanner asks, his eyes straying briefly to Fallon’s cute skates.
“Why?” I shoot back. “You wanna watch?”
Tanner laughs and shakes his head, and I smirk right back at him.
I begin skating over to them with Fallon tucked up under my arm, and she paws at my chest as I rub my free hand around her waist.
“That spin was beautiful,” I tell her quietly before we reach the guys. “Almost gave me a heart attack though,” I murmur, and she laughs prettily into my neck.
When we reach my teammates at the edge of the ice I say, “We’re chilling here for a bit. I’m not heading to the bars tonight.”
Tanner shrugs. “No sweat. Gives us time to plan how we’re gonna fuck you up for your birthday, anyway.”
“Your birthday?” Fallon asks in surprise, and hell if the whole room doesn’t go sub-zero silent.
What is it about a group of guys hearing a girls’ gentle voice, and suddenly the whole pack is pumping testosterone like a bunch of damn cavemen?
I shoot them a hard glare because I can feel their pheromones God damn it, and then I turn all of my attention down to Fallon, stroking at her hair. “My birthday’s next week but it isn’t a big deal, baby. We don’t go crazy for birthdays,” I tell her calmly.
Austin snorts. “Uh, yeah we do – you just can’t remember last year because you blacked the hell out.”
Fallon gasps and looks up at me with wide eyes.
I shove my tongue in my cheek and make a mental note to sucker-punch Austin later.
“That was for my twenty-first,” I say, caressing her waist as she stares up at me. “It won’t be like that this year.”
“Well, I ain’t sure about that…” Tanner says, squinting over at me as he tries to smother his laughter.
Fallon glances at him, horrified, and I give him an I’m gonna murder you later smile.
“What are you doing this year?” she asks him, one of her fists gripping fearfully into my jersey.
“We haven’t decided yet,” he admits. “Usually we just hit up the bars… or the frats.”
“I’ll plan something!” Fallon interjects immediately, her brows arched high.
“Fallon,” I say soothingly, even though I want to kill Tanner right now for stressing her out. “He’s just being an ass. You don’t have to plan anything.”
“But I could,” she says quickly, spinning around to face me.
Way too many sets of eyes drop down to her ass, so I splay my palms over her behind, blocking the view.
“I mean, if you would like, I could host something for you guys. I’d make it good, I promise.”
That little promise strikes me right through the chest.
“Fallon, I’m being serious. You don’t need to do anything.”
“I want to,” she says, shooting a nervous glance to the guys behind her. Each one of those fuckers is getting a right hook straight in the jaw later. “It can be, like, a surprise thing.”
I’m frowning because I don’t want to put her out of her way, but there’s also no way that I’m saying no to Fallon when she’s asking to spend time with me. We don’t hang out half as much as I’d want to so any opportunity to see her is one that I’m grasping with both hands.
“You sure?” I ask her, even though it looks like I’m the person who is unsure right now.
She nods excitedly. “Yes, I’m definitely sure.”
I glance up at the guys and jerk my chin at them because I don’t want them to hear the rest of this conversation. “See y’all in a bit,” I say gruffly before hauling Fallon back onto the ice with me.
When I’m sure that we’re out of earshot I tell her quietly, “I don’t want you spending any money on me, Fallon. If you wanna put something on for my birthday, I don’t want it to cost you a single cent.”
She shakes her head, smiling up at me. “Ash and I will host it at the condo. I’ll text one of your friends the details so that they know what to bring.”
The thought of giving any of my teammates her number makes me hold her even tighter.
“We’ll bring the alcohol,” I tell her, because drinks aren’t cheap, and I refuse to let Fallon spend her hard-earned cash on any of these fuckers.
“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes playfully. “What day is your birthday?”
“Next Friday. We’ve got a game on Thursday and we’re travelling back that night.”
“Would something in the early afternoon work? I don’t have classes next Friday.”
I do have classes next Friday but for Fallon I’ll bunk every single one of them.
“That’s perfect,” I tell her, and I dip down to gently kiss her lips. When I look back at the stands I see that my teammates are still watching her, getting themselves nice and comfortable in the seats with no intentions of leaving.
I can’t blame them.
Fallon Ford is the most beautiful girl that I’ve ever seen.
We skate together until she’s sleepy and then she howls with laughter as I flip her over my shoulder, hauling her off the ice like a proud caveman.
My teammates can’t take their eyes off her for one single second.
