“Dude! Yes!” Rhodes says as I enter the dressing room after all the press meetings. He pats me hard on the back, and I cough up the water I was chugging. “Fucking yes! That’s the shit we need out there all season, man.”
He’s ecstatic, grinning as much as Rhodes grins.
“Yeah, yeah. You scored too,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but you needed it more than I did.”
I did need it. So fucking badly.
I’m hyped I scored.
To have Coach look at me with pride instead of worry, to have my teammates who have been on the fence about me looking at me like I’m not a complete failure…it feels so damn good.
But I can’t get that look on Harper’s face out of my head.
“What’s wrong? Your face just totally dropped. You—oh. Shit. The girl.”
“Harper.”
“Who’s Harper? And more importantly, does she have anything to do with your game tonight?” Lowell asks, flopping down beside me. “Because if so, keep her ass around.”
“She’s…”
Well, fuck. Is she the girl who nearly ran me over? The girl I’ve been messaging? The girl I’m supposed to be going on a date with tomorrow? Or is she just someone I barely knew?
I settle on “It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, well, uncomplicate it. We need your head in the game like it was tonight. Need that magic. And if she’s it, fix it.”
Fucking hockey players and their superstitions.
Some of us tape our own stick before each game. Some want to be the last off of the ice. Some have special routines they need to follow.
We all have something.
Truthfully, it crossed my mind for a millisecond that I scored because of Harper.
She’s the only difference I’ve made.
Maybe…maybe she is my good luck charm.
Rhodes clears his throat, and I glance up at him.
“Fix it for the reasons not running around in your head right now.”
I sigh. He’s right…again.
Asshole.
“I hear you,” I tell him.
Lowell’s gaze bounces between the two of us, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“Slapshots tonight, boys,” Miller says, coming over to join us. He claps his hands together, probably still buzzing from the game. “Gotta celebrate those two points for our favorite geezer.”
Lowell sends him a murderous glare. “I’m older than him and take great offense to that, so I will end you.”
“I’m shaking.” Miller rolls his eyes, completely unfazed by the captain’s threat.
“Need I remind you, I’m older than all of you by a long shot,” Smith, one of our centers, says from down the bench.
He’s one of those dudes who has been in the NHL for years and a guy you want on your team. He doesn’t make fancy plays and gets the job done, a background player you never hear much about but who holds a team together a lot more than most realize.
Miller’s eyes are wide as he stares up at the six-foot-six giant. “Crap. Now I really am shaking.”
We all laugh at the rookie.
“I’m down for Slapshots,” Lowell says. “I can never sleep after a win anyway.”
“Rhodes, you in?”
He looks over at me before he commits, and I shrug. “Why not?”
“Fuck it,” Rhodes says. “I’m in too. But Lowell is buying us all beers.”
“I am?”
“Yep.” Rhodes slaps him on the back. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen your AAV—you can afford it.”
The moment we walked into Slapshots, we were bombarded with fans who were hungry for our attention. We gave our best press smiles and made our way through the crowd to find a quiet table in the back.
Rod drops off our usual drinks, sending a clear Leave them be message to the crowd with a deadly look, and save for a few of the drunker fans stumbling over now and again, it works.
We’ve only been here for twenty minutes, and I think I check my phone at least twice a minute.
Did Harper not see my number scrawled across the stick?
Did she see it and just not care?
I hold my breath as I click on the BeeMine app, expecting to find that we’ve been unmatched.
We haven’t.
All of our messages are right there.
I type out a few different things.
I fucked up.
Delete.
I’m an idiot.
Delete.
I’m sorry.
Send.
“All right, man, what’s with the obsessive phone checking? Oh, crap—what dumbass thing did you say during press this time?”
I flip Lowell off and he laughs.
I might have a bit of a reputation for accidentally cursing during the live press meetings or saying something I shouldn’t. I keep telling Coach to keep me away from the camera, but he never listens.
“It’s a girl,” Miller says, peeking over my shoulder to see what I’m looking at. “It’s gotta be. I see that BeeMine app on his phone. I don’t get it. You’re a hotshot hockey player—you can get laid any time you want.”
I catch Lowell’s eyes from across the table. He doesn’t ask why I’m on the app, probably because he understands it without me saying anything.
We all used to be like Miller once: young, dumb, excited about women throwing themselves at us. Then we got older and jaded and more cautious. Given how the last relationship Lowell was in went, I know he understands.
“It’s nothing,” I mutter.
“Yeah, definitely a girl. I bet—”
My phone buzzes and I check it faster than a middle schooler waiting to hear from their crush.
Shep Clark: Fucking nice job tonight. Good to have you back.
I shoot him back a quick text, then lay my phone down with a sigh.
When I glance back up, all the guys are staring at me.
“What?” I bark.
Lowell laughs, Miller doesn’t say shit, and Rhodes just shakes his head.
“It’s not a chick. It’s—Harper?”
She’s sitting across the bar, her head bent low, giggling at something her friend—the same girl from her profile pictures—says.
I can’t believe it’s her.
I can’t believe she was at my game tonight.
I can’t believe she’s here. Right here. In this bar.
A body steps in front of her table, blocking her from my view.
The dude steps in way too close, resting his elbows on the table, ignoring all her cues as she shrinks away from him.
He turns, and I swear I see red.
I’d know that ugly fucker anywhere.
It’s Colter.
I’m out of my seat and crossing the bar before I know what I’m doing, the guys yelling at my back. I ignore them because there is no fucking way I am leaving her alone with him.
He’s a slimy shit and I don’t trust him.
Harper catches my eye as I approach, and I can already see the relief flashing in her gaze.
I don’t bother sparing Colter a glance as I wrap my arm around her and say, “There you are.”
She sinks into me, and I don’t know if it’s for show or if it’s her body acting on its own; either way, I like it entirely too much.
“I tried texting you.” I lift my brows as if to say Just go with it. “We’re back in the corner.” I flick my eyes to my teammate. “Oh, hey, Colter. Didn’t see you there.”
His eyes bounce between me and Harper. “Uh, you two know each other?”
“Yep.” I pull her in closer, planting a kiss on her temple. “Thanks for checking in with her, but I got it from here.” I look down at Harper. “Come on, ladies. Don’t want the douchebags bothering you for too long.”
Harper rolls her lips together, trying not to laugh, and her friend grabs her drink, looking more than happy to leave Colter behind too.
I pull Harper behind me toward the back of the bar, trying not to think too much about how good her hand feels in mine.
She tugs on it, stopping me when we’re nearly there.
“We’re in the clear.” She slips her hand away, and I instantly miss the warmth. We nearly collide when I turn to face her and she startles, glaring up at me. “Thanks for the rescue.”
“That guy had total slimeball vibes,” her friend says. She juts out a hand between us. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”
I clasp her hand in mine. “Nice to meet you, Ryan. I’m—”
“Oh,” she interrupts, squeezing my hand tighter. “I know who you are. You’re an ass.”
I look to Harper for help, but she just lifts her brows as if to say Yeah, what she said.
“I don’t disagree,” I tell Ryan, pulling my hand back. I want to shake it out because damn did she have a strong grip, but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction. I turn to Harper. “Can we talk?”
“I—”
“Yes,” Ryan answers for her. She points at the table with Lowell, Miller, and Rhodes. “I’m going to find my future husband. You two go talk.”
She gives Harper a look that I have no idea how to interpret and sashays toward the table.
“Evening, boys,” I hear her say, sliding into the chair I abandoned.
They all perk up at her presence, ready to salivate over her.
Not that I blame them. Ryan is gorgeous.
But she’s not Harper.
I turn back to find her peering up at me with wary eyes.
I dip my head toward the bar. “Want to sit?”
She doesn’t answer, just gives me a curt nod and leads the way.
We settle in on two stools, and I signal for Rod. I don’t normally have more than one or two drinks when we go out during the season, but tonight I can tell I’m going to need several.
He brings me over a beer and drops off another of whatever Harper’s having.
I tip my drink back and take a long pull, letting the alcohol do its thing. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and peek over at Harper. Her fingers are wrapped around her straw and she’s stirring her drink, staring down at it like it contains all the answers to life’s questions.
I run a hand through my hair and spin toward her. “Look, Harper, I—”
“Hey, man! Sweet fucking goal tonight,” a guy says, stumbling way too far into my space.
“Thanks,” I reply curtly, inching away. I give my attention to Harper. “I—”
“Oh, man. Who do we have here?” the guy interrupts, leaning into Harper’s face this time. “Damn, you’re hot.”
He reaches out like he’s going to touch her, and I snap.
I shoot to my feet and grab the guy by the collar, tugging him up to his tiptoes.
I faintly hear the scraping of chairs over the floor and I have no doubt it’s the guys, ready to back me up if needed.
There are several people around us, staring in surprise, waiting to see what happens.
I yank the drunken idiot closer. “Don’t even think about putting your hands on her, or anyone else for that matter.”
He lifts his hands in the air, eyes wide with shock. “I-I-I—”
“Fucking got it?” I growl.
The guy bobs his head up and down several times, swallowing thickly. “Y-Yeah, man. S-Sorry.”
“Apologize to her, not me.”
He looks over at Harper, fear in his eyes. “S-Sorry, miss. Had a few too m-many.”
“Not a fucking excuse.” I drop him back to his feet and he stumbles a bit. “Now go. Sober the fuck up.”
“Shit, man,” he murmurs as he scurries to leave. “Think I already have.”
I stare him down until he disappears into the crowd.
“Good?” Rhodes calls out.
“Swear I am so wet right now,” I hear Ryan say.
I drop back onto the stool, ignoring them all.
“Are you okay?” I ask Harper.
“That’s twice.”
“Huh?”
“That you’ve rescued me tonight. That’s twice.”
“Oh.” I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
She just nods, then takes a sip of her drink.
An uncomfortable silence falls between us, and I hate it. I miss that level of comfort we had in the car together. That easy conversation we had when we were messaging.
I don’t like whatever this is, and I know it’s all my fault.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, breaking the tension.
She whips her head toward me, a deep crease between her brows. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes.”
“For what part?” She waves her hands, giving me the floor. “Go on. Elaborate for me. Tell me what you’re sorry for exactly.”
I open my mouth to explain things, but nothing comes out, the words frozen on my tongue.
She scoffs. “Of course. You’re sorry but you can’t admit what you did wrong.” She shakes her head. “Let’s try: Harper, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I am that night in the car. Sure, we had over four hours together and I could have mentioned it at any point, but instead, I chose to lie about it. Or: I’m sorry that when I found your profile on a dating app, instead of just messaging you and saying who I am like a normal person, I lied and led you on for weeks. Or maybe even: I’m sorry I let you believe I was a good guy. By the way, I have two arrests for assault. Try any of those, Collin.”
She spits my name out like it’s the most disgusting thing she’s ever heard.
And honestly, she has every right to feel that way.
I deserve it.
Everything she said is true, and her ire is warranted.
That doesn’t make it sting any less.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was at first. It’s… Well, I’ve had people take advantage of me before because of who I am, and I didn’t know if I could trust you. And yeah, I should have told you who I was when I found you on BeeMine. But the lie by omission,” I say pointedly because it wasn’t an outright lie, causing her to roll her eyes, “was already set in stone at that point.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.
“And, I just want to point out, I was arrested for assault twice but was only found guilty once.”
“Is that supposed to make it okay?”
“Well, no. But it’s not like I just jumped someone for shits and giggles. I had my reasons.”
She waits for me to explain my side of things.
I don’t talk about it a lot, mostly because I’ve never had to with it being expunged. Now that it’s out there, I’ve still stayed tightlipped because at the end of the day, it won’t matter why I did it. They’re going to believe whatever they want anyway.
But with Harper…I want to set the record straight with her.
I lean in close, and unlike with the other two men to get in her space tonight, she doesn’t shy away. She leans closer, too.
She smells like fresh, crisp apples, and I just happen to love apples.
“Remember my brother I told you about?”
“You mean the brother Wright told me about?”
I grind my teeth together, irritated with myself.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Anyway, the shit when I was younger was about him. Some people in small-town Kansas didn’t take too well to the fact that he’s gay. After some kids assaulted him and the school board turned a blind eye to it, I took matters into my own hands. Nobody wanted to believe or cared about what happened to the queer kid, so it was me who got in trouble. I was sixteen. I got adjudicated for assault, got one year of probation, had to pay restitution, got a hug from my brother and a cake from my parents. The other kids? They didn’t get shit for what they did.” I shake my head, disgusted by the treatment they received, like they were fucking untouchable. “As soon as I could, I had it expunged from my record, but once the media got hold of it…” I lift a shoulder. “It didn’t matter anymore.”
She regards me for a moment, eyes flitting across my face, over the cut on my lip from my scuffle with Colter this morning.
I’m sure to her I look like nothing but a hothead.
But I refuse to apologize for sticking up for my brother. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Just like I’d punch out that guy who was touching that woman without her permission.
“Thank you for telling me that,” she says quietly. “Your brother is lucky to have you.”
Her words surprise me and a knot forms in my throat, though I’m not sure why. I swallow them down with a nod.
“How’d you hear about the arrests anyway?”
“Some people were making comments at the game and…”
“You ran to Google?”
“Ryan did.”
I like that she has someone looking out for her. That’s good.
“Ryan seems…fun.”
For the first time since our night in the car, Harper gives me a genuine smile.
I didn’t realize how badly I needed it either.
“She’s the best. Truly. Forces me out of my shell, maybe a little too much sometimes.”
She looks away, her attention back on her drink as she twists her straw between her fingers, that silence I’m really beginning to hate falling over us once more.
It lasts and lasts…and lasts some more.
Unable to take it any longer, I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.
I look over to find her staring up at me with an intense gaze. “I’m really mad at you, Collin.”
I expel a heavy breath and mirror her pose. “I know you are.”
“I hate being lied to. It’s kind of a deal-breaker for me.”
“Kind of?” She nods. “Well, good.”
Her brows knit together and she tips her head to the side. “It’s a good thing it’s a deal-breaker?”
“It’s a good thing it’s kind of a deal-breaker. That means there’s room for me to convince you otherwise.”
There’s a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, like she’s trying to fight the grin that wants to break free. Like she’s trying to tamp down what she’s feeling.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach over and pluck it free, running the pad of my thumb over the indention her teeth have left.
Her breath is warm against my skin, her blue eyes wide with surprise.
I trace her soft lips back and forth and back. I can’t seem to make myself stop touching her, and she isn’t telling me to stop.
The noise of the bar fades away.
It’s just us right now.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I am,” I say quietly, leaning closer. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll show you instead.”
There’s an obvious hitch to her breath, and she swallows thickly.
I run my thumb over her lip again, her eyes darkening before me.
“Go out with me, Harper. Please.”
Another gulp.
Then, a nod.
“Okay.”
