Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Seeing her vulnerable side had changed everything, though. When she’d opened herself up to me like she did on Christmas, I couldn’t have stopped myself from kissing her if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t.
I was pulled to her in a way so magnetic I was powerless to stop it. When we’d kissed, it lit me up from the inside out. I’d never felt anything like it. Stopping things with her that night was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
She didn’t believe me when I’d said I wanted her, but not like that. Not when she just wanted me to make the pain go away. Her wounded pride told her lies, and she wouldn’t listen to the truth.
I got it. She’d been hurt and lied to a lot in life. Not by me, though. I was being punished for other people’s mistakes.
“You planning on playing tonight?” Dalton asked me.
“Huh?” I looked up at him from the locker room bench, where I’d been lost in thought. “Yeah, just thinking about something.”
“Something or someone?”
I shrugged. “Both, I guess.”
“Check out my niece,” Horner said to Dalton, showing him the same photo he’d shown me.
“She looks like you,” Dalton said.
“You think?”
“Yeah, you make that same face when you get pissed about something.”
Horner gave him the finger and moved on to show his niece’s photo to someone else. Dalton seemed to sense that I wasn’t in a mood to talk, and he moved on, too.
I didn’t just think of Shelby often, but also the baby she was carrying. It was the size of a big leek now, according to the weekly notifications I got. He or she could smile.
Was Shelby still getting sick all the time? Had her mom ever left? I had lots of questions, but no answers. My family had stopped asking about her a while ago, probably assuming we’d been a thing and weren’t anymore.
It fucking grated on me, the way things had gone down between us. Shelby hadn’t given us a fair chance. I knew it was a bad idea for us to get involved, but something had clicked into place that night and I couldn’t undo it. She was on my mind all the time, still the object of every sexual fantasy I had. And she wanted nothing to do with me.
“Gentlemen,” Mila said, storming into the locker room like she owned the place.
Which, she kind of did. The team at least. And when she had something to say, she didn’t ask Coach when would be a good time. She just showed up and said what was on her mind.
This time, she stood near the center of the locker room, just to the side of the team logo on the carpet that she knew better than to step on. Everyone quieted to listen.
“We have a twenty-three-man roster,” she said, looking from face to face. “That’s forty-six balls, if my math is correct. And yet…” She raised her voice. “I’m not seeing any balls out on the ice, guys. Where are the balls? The guts? The heart?”
We’d dropped our last two games, both on the road, and I couldn’t deny she was right. We’d played like a team phoning it in, me included. If we wanted to make the playoffs, we were going to have to turn things around fast.
“I care whether we win or lose,” she said sharply. “Does anyone else?”
Coach stood to the side, his arms crossed and his expression grim. None of us liked Mila in here busting our balls, even if she was right. It wasn’t her job.
“Show me something out there tonight, guys,” she said. “I don’t even care what it is, just something. Something that makes the game feel more hockey and less like a piano recital. This is your home ice. Give our fans something to get excited about. Balls out, for fuck’s sake.”
No one responded, but she never waited for a response. As soon as the last word was out of her mouth, she stormed back out of the locker room, her gaze on the door until she was gone.
“She’s a sweetheart,” Colby muttered from nearby.
It was almost time to leave the locker room for the game. Though it had been almost three months since Shelby and I had talked, something made me grab my phone from my locker and send her a text.
Me: I’m thinking about you. I miss you.
I had more to say, but for now, that would have to do it. If she didn’t respond, I’d stop by her apartment. I knew in my gut that things weren’t over between us.
She might never give me another shot, but I wasn’t giving up without a fight.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shelby
“So there I am, finally about to get the D, when that motherfucker says ‘Guide me in, baby,’” Marlowe’s podcast guest said. “Like what the hell, bro? You’ve got one job here. I’m not grabbing your dick and sticking it in for you.”