Last night we played in Calgary, and now we’re off to Vancouver. I feel better about this long travel stint now that I know she’s staying at Rhys and Micky’s while I’m gone. He showed up at my house after the temporary protection order was put in place, so he’s already shown he won’t be deterred by a piece of paper.
Part of watching out for her is getting her what she needs most—and she needs some fucking friends. Jordan had a blast at the game with the WAGs. The guys have solid women who would be good for her.
Motherfucker had her on a short leash for a long time, so she needs some fun. I added her name to the WAGs box so she can hang with them at more games. Not that she’s a WAG or anything . . . but this way she has a place to see them regularly.
I throw my bag in the empty row of seats on the charter plane. Rhys sits across the aisle from me, and I give him a nod.
“Thanks again for letting Jordan stay at your place. You and Micky don’t have kids, it seemed to make more sense until I set up something permanent.”
He chuckles. “Permanent?”
“You know what I mean,” I say, unwrapping a protein bar. “I want to make sure she’s settled. Somewhere I don’t have to worry about her damn ex showing up.”
Rhys furrows his brow. “So, tell me again why it’s better for her to stay with you rather than some building with top notch security?”
“I don’t trust him. I feel better that she’s with me.”
“With you?”
“Fuck off.”
“Dude, quit fooling yourself. It’s fine that you’ve found someone you click with, but at least own up to it.”
Lonan, who’s sitting in the row in front of me, points at Rhys. “What he said. We know you had this playboy persona you leaned into, but it’s okay to grow out of it.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It is,” Barrett says, laughing. “You may have not admitted it, but your actions speak volumes. I saw you watching her talk to that guy at Top Shelf. Looked like you were about to blow a blood vessel.”
“Don’t forget he rejected those other bunnies,” Shep adds. Why the fuck is everybody ganging up on me? I shake my head.
“First of all, that guy was a douchebag—”
“The girls like her,” Lonan says.
“Freya certainly does.” Rhys holds his phone out to me, showing a short video clip of the two girls cheersing with wine glasses, and the dogs laying in a pile next to them. Wait a minute . . . I grab his phone.
“Why’s your dog only have three legs?”
“He was a rescue, we were told he was hit by a car as a puppy. She’s got a thing for the busted ones.”
“Explains why she latched onto you,” I mutter.
“Fuck you too.”
I take in the rest of the photo. Seeing Jordan so immersed with one of the other wives on the team warms my heart. I’ve been waffling back and forth about what we are for a while now. Shit’s starting to keep me up at night. This was only supposed to be sex, but the guys are right . . . there’s something there. I’ve been settling down without even realizing it. The problem is, it seems one-sided.
“She’s cute, right?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off the photo.
“Don’t talk about my wife,” Rhys says.
I roll my eyes and hand the phone back. “I meant mine.”
“There it is!” Barrett shouts from his seat, and Rhys looks up at Lonan with a huge grin like he was in on it.
I grab the Lakes tablet from my bag. “Jesus Christ. Okay, fun’s over. Conway, let’s go over plays.” Their happiness agitates me. They don’t realize I’ve offered myself to her, and she turned me down.
Rhys slides his headphones over his ears with a smug expression. Asshole.
Outside of discussing our upcoming games with Barrett, I don’t speak to anyone for the rest of the flight. I need to focus on my job. I’m the captain of the team, and we need this win to make up for the ass-kicking we had over Thanksgiving. This is more important. She’s not into me, anyway, so there’s no use thinking about it. Maybe I should have her move out, but the thought of losing her companionship leaves me feeling sick.
When we get to the hotel that night, I find my room and kick my feet up. I’ve spent most of the plane ride going over game footage. I need a break.
A few minutes later, Jonesy pounds on the door. “Uber’s downstairs. We’re going to a club. Let’s go.”
I stare at the door for a second but don’t answer.
“Banksy. If you’re not down there in two minutes, we’re leaving without you.”
Opening my suitcase, I grab my toiletries and set them in the bathroom.
“Another one bites the dust,” O’Callahan shouts, slapping his hand on the door. Their footsteps grow quiet as they walk away. A few minutes later, another knock on my door.
“Yo.” It’s Barrett.
I open the door. “What’s up?”
“A few of us are headed to the hotel bar. Wanna grab a beer?”
With the hockey husbands? No thanks.
“Pass. I’m gonna check out the gym.”
“Suit yourself.”
He pushes off the doorframe, and I close it on him looking at me with pity.
The workout room is decent, though smaller than I was hoping. I’m in my third set of squats when the guys walk in with a couple six packs of beer.
I slide my headphones off my ears and throw my arms up. What is it now?
Lonan cracks open a beer and rests his back up against the mirrored wall. “Figured we’d bring the party to you. Ya know, now that—” The other guys lounge on the floor with him.
“Now that what?” I dare him to say it.
My cocaptain smiles. “Now that you’re one of us.”
I hold up my middle and ring fingers, pointing to the bare finger. “Am I the only one thinking about tomorrow’s game?”
Barrett points at me. “Which brings us to why we’re here. You’re acting weird, and it’s gonna manifest into something on the ice if you don’t deal with it.”
“You gotta come out with that shit. If you’re anything like the way I was with Freya, it’s eating you alive inside,” Rhys says.
That’s an understatement.
“Ever since that kiss in the stands shit, you’ve been overcompensating with studying game plays and working out.” Barrett stares at me. “You know I’m right.”
“I’m the captain. It’s my job.”
“Come on, man. Get it off your chest!”
They cross their arms and get comfortable, then wait, laid back, taking sips from their bottlenecks. My weights fall to my sides, and I rack them. Lonan hands me a bottle.
“I brought her home for Thanksgiving.”
“You like her,” Barrett says.
“I like her.” I exhale, and it’s filled with relief. Damn, it does kinda feel good to say it out loud. Lonan fakes a spit take, and Rhys shakes his head with a shit-eating grin.
I laugh. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”
Lonan leans forward. “Look, we know how this shit affects your game if you don’t have an outlet for it. You need to get your house in order.” He gives me a pointed look.
He’s right. At the time, I didn’t want to admit it, but a big part of the Thanksgiving game shitshow was being distracted by thoughts of Jordan with my family and how well she fit in. She’s the first girl I’ve ever introduced to them, even if she was introduced as a friend.
“This the first girl you’ve brought home?”
I nod.
“You scared?”
I furrow my eyebrows and cock my head back. “Of Jordan? No.”
“He’s impossible,” Rhys says to Barrett. He gestures to me. “How do you deal with this?”
Barrett laughs and turns back to me. “You trust us with all the other shit on the ice, but you have to learn how to lean on your teammates for the off-the-ice stuff too. You don’t talk to people about women unless it’s fucking them. And now you actually have somebody you’re taking an interest in. That’s a big fucking deal for someone like you—no offense.”
None taken. I haven’t discussed it before because I don’t want it to interfere with my captain duties. Besides, I talk to Jordan. Just not about my feelings for her. They look at me, seeing right through my bullshit. I groan and take another sip. “This is the dumbest episode of Intervention I’ve ever seen.”
“Does she know you’re into her?” Rhys asks.
“I’ve only been into her a handful of times.”
Rhys scrubs his hand down his face.
“I dunno! Yeah, I’ve hinted at it. We fuck?”
“You fuck everybody,” Lonan says.
“According to Freya, Jordan thinks the only reason you invited her to Thanksgiving was because of her ex.” They already knew she went home with me for the holiday. That would explain this ridiculous bromance ambush. “So you may want to tell her that it meant more.”
“She’s not interested. When I invited her to Thanksgiving, she shut it down right away. I had to convince her to even go with me. When we were there, I brought up being more, but the feelings weren’t mutual.”
Rhys cringes. “Sorry, man.”
“Did she say anything?”
I take a deep breath. “She basically said she needed somebody who she knew wouldn’t be a hoe away from home, which really fucking sucks because she trusts me with other shit. But apparently thinks I’ll be unfaithful like her ex. She acts like being with someone is giving up autonomy. Her relationship with Bryan was so dysfunctional. I think she’s worried she’ll be a doormat, but I’d never let that happen.”
“Then show her. Make it black and white and see what happens. At least you won’t get stuck wondering and you can move on. The unknown of it all is taking up too much space in your sex-addled brain,” Barrett says.
It is. Maybe it’s time I tell her it’s exclusive or nothing. Not only because I’m possessive, but because I want to see what real dating is like. We’re basically there anyway, but I’ve changed my mind about labeling it. Not knowing is driving me up the wall.
“Do you love her?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” they all say in unison.
I’m not answering that for two reasons. One, I don’t know the answer. And two, the fact I don’t know scares the shit out of me. I take a sip of my beer and change the subject. “You aren’t supposed to have open bottles in here.”
Barrett narrows his eyes at me. “You were cooler before you became captain.”
The other two assholes nod.
I suppose I could tell her I want to be exclusive fuck buddies. She might agree to that more easily than asking her to be my girlfriend.
“Jordan’s something else, man. Such a cool girl, but always stuck in my head.”
“Welcome to the club, brother.” I tap the neck of my beer against his.
“Your club sucks,” I say, taking a drink.
“It gets better.”
My lip curls. “You sound like a fucking anti-bullying campaign.”
“God, you’re a dick.” Lonan shakes his head.
“It’s just because I can’t have her.”
Barrett smiles into his beer and takes a swig. “Dude, you’re so full of shit. You know you’ve caught feelings for a girl and it’s freaking you the fuck out because it’s never happened before. I bet you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve fucked the same girl more than once.”
“She’s fucked her way into your heart,” Rhys adds. He tips his beer. “That’s how they do it.”
The door to the workout room opens and a woman walks in. We all look up. She pauses, sees our little Girl Scout circle time, and slowly backs out.
“Okay, so what am I supposed to do now?” I stretch my legs to keep my muscles from locking up on me before tomorrow’s game.
Their eyes grow big. Lonan leans all the way forward, pointing at me, and shifting his eyes from Rhys to Barrett. “He didn’t even check her out!”
I crane my neck around. “Was she hot?” I turn, but she’s already gone.
“She was your version of hot,” he replies.
Impossible. Only Jordan is my version of hot.
Barrett narrows his eyes at me and smirks. I purse my lips, glaring back at him, and shake my head. He better not tell the guys.
“He added her to the WAGs box list.”
“You motherfucker”—I point at him with my beer bottle and a stern look—“I told you that in confidence.”
Like a coward, he leans away from me and looks down, holding up both hands. Rhys and Lonan slowly turn their heads to me.
“Fuck all of you,” I say, laughing and shaking my head as I lift the beer to my lips.
“Okay, okay,” Barrett says. “Here’s what you do—”
“Uh, no offense, but you’re a fucking simp. I’d like to poll other members of the jury, thank you very much.”
He rolls his eyes at me.
“Be straight with her and tell her you wanna do more than fuck.” Rhys shrugs. “It’s not complicated.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text from her, and my heart rate quickens like it does every time her name shows up on my screen.
Jordan: Micky and I are going to be sister-wives.
I grin, it fills my chest to hear she’s bonding and making friends of her own. And yeah . . . I like that it’s with some of the WAGs.
Me: The fuck you are. You stay away from Rhys. He’s too young.
Jordan: He’s the same age as me.
Me: Exactly.
Jordan: You’re ridiculous.
Me: I’m a goddamn delight, and according to my second grade teacher, a joy to have in class. You like me.
She doesn’t respond, and I’m okay with that. Silence is better than denial.
