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“BJ, I was expecting some kind of a lecture from you today.”
“Really?” he asks, wrinkling his face. “You know I’m your biggest fan. I’ll never stop believing in you. No matter how much trouble you get into.”
Well, damn. And now there’s a lump in my throat. Which I fucking hate. I don’t mind tearing up on my own time, but in front of others?
It just isn’t done.
I clear my throat, though I’m pretty sure BJ knows I’m close to getting choked up. “I appreciate that. You have no idea how much. I gotta tell you, having her in the next room over is rough. The only nights I sleep well are when she stays at the cottage up in Sonoma. That’s when I can jerk off to porn and not worry about her hearing.”
BJ tries to keep his face serious, but eventually doubles over, laughing. “I’m sorry, man,” he says, gasping for breath. “But that’s funny as hell, knowing that for once in your life, you’re with a woman who’s not throwing herself at you.”
I crack a smile in spite of myself. “I guess it is pretty funny. But I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. She’s a nice girl, BJ. I’m not gonna fuck with her. I’m just following her lead.”
“Damn,” he says. “Somebody finally has you wrapped around her finger. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I lean down to remove my skates. “I know, right? Neither did I. But neither did I think I would have a fake marriage.”
BJ glances at his watch and stands. All the other guys have left the ice and are probably cleaning up. “Welp, just wanted to check in. I have a plane to catch. You know how to reach me, anytime, any day.”
The goddamn throat lump comes back. “Again, I appreciate that, BJ. You don’t know how much.”
We do that guy thing, the half-shake-half-hug.
With his hands on my shoulders, BJ steps back, studying my face. “Something about you is different, Rake Hanson.”
No shit. Something about meisdifferent.
22
RAKE
BJ,true to his word as always, scored great seats for Petal and two of her friends, and when we’re finally out on the ice, I look over at her. She’s paying absolutely no attention to what’s going on, gabbing with her girlfriends. But that’s okay.
Baby steps.
It’s when the crowd goes wild that she finally looks over. I catch her eye, and the corner of her mouth crooks up. She gives me a tiny little wave, probably because she feels like she has to, and I nod back. Then the game starts, and there is nothing else in the world except hockey.
I’m killing it on the ice today, and it’s not going unnoticed by my teammates. I’ve raised the bar, and they are stepping right up, joining me in my determination. That’s one of the things I love about hockey.
How connected you are to your teammates during the game.
We’re working together like we’re all of one mind, anticipating each other’s every move. It’s what the fans come for.
That, and to see us score. Which we have not yet managed to do.
The end of the first period could not come fast enough, because I need catch my fucking breath. When I do, Tyler hands me my water bottle. Parched, I start to gulp.
And I immediately choke, my throat burning and eyes watering. I start to cough, trying to catch my breath. I spew out whatever the hell was in my water bottle, not caring who I hit with my spray. Several of the guys groan.
Why does my fucking water taste like rotten lemons and ass?
While I’m sputtering and gasping, I glance at Tyler, who’s doubled over, laughing.
Ah. Okay. I get it now.
Asshole. He will so pay for this.
He points at the jumbotron, and there I am, larger than life, red faced, eyes watering, trying to get the taste of shit out of my mouth.
