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“You didn’t correct me when I asked if you planned to drown out their moans with mine.” My stomach twists uncomfortably. I desperately want him to open up, to give me something to work with. To show me he cares enough to try, even if it makes him uncomfortable.
He looks like he wants to bolt. His gaze darts to the side, and his fingers go to his lips. He looks like a scared boy, not a badass hockey player. “If that was what you wanted, I would have done that. But that wasn’t how I meant it. I didn’t want you to have to listen and think about how I’d been involved the last time. I didn’t want that shoved in your face.”
“Why didn’t you say that, then?”
“I started to, but you were so upset with me.” He pushes a piece of tomato around his plate. “You were always going to leave. I didn’t want you to. But if I asked you to stay and you said no… I couldn’t handle that. And I would fuck things up again eventually. I always do.”
It’s heartbreaking the way he holds on to blame, like everything was his fault. Like he’s the problem, when really the whole thing was doomed from the start.
“You didn’t even give it a chance, Tristan. You told Flip all we were doing was fucking.”
“Because that’s what we agreed on.” His jaw works. He looks so uncomfortable.
“But was it the truth?” I ask.
He shakes his head. His gaze lifts, and his voice is barely a whisper. “I have feelings for you. And not just I-want-to-fuck-you feelings. I have a lot of those, but I have other feelings, too.”
“You were awful to me when I moved out.”
He drops his head and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You treated me like I meant nothing to you.”
His swallow is audible. “You were leaving me, and I couldn’t get you to stay. It hurt, and I couldn’t handle it.”
“So you hurt me back?”
His head snaps up, and his eyes go wide.
I hold up a hand. “Not physically. With your actions and your words. You were cruel.”
He drops his head again. “I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.”
“It’s about more than that, Tristan. You discarded me. You treated me like I meant nothing to you, and it gutted me. It wasn’t just about the sex. It was how easily you turned off your feelings. You made me feel used. Do you understand how awful that was? You can’t do that to me again. Not ever. I won’t stand for it. I deserve better.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and do that differently.” He wrings his hands, then hides them under the table. “I hated myself for what I did and how I acted. Everything was changing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But I care about you, Bea. A lot. More than I know what to do with sometimes. It scares the shit out of me.”
And there he is, that broken boy I’ve come to know well. “I care about you, too.”
“Yeah?” The way his face brightens with hope makes my chest ache.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good. That’s good.” He fidgets with his fork. “I, uh, I was hoping you’d want to do more of this after tonight.” He motions between us and almost knocks his glass over.
“More talking and dinners?” I won’t make this easy for him.
“Yeah. Exactly. We don’t always have to go out for dinner, though. We can hang out and not just naked hanging out. But we could do that, too. Whenever you’re ready.”
“So you want to go on dates?”
“If you do, yeah.”
The table is jiggling like there’s a low-level earthquake happening under it. For as cocky as he is in the bedroom and on the ice, he’s definitely unsure of himself off of it.
“We can go on more dates.”
“Yeah?” His eyes light up, and my heart clenches.
“Yeah.”
We spend the rest of dinner talking about the upcoming games, and my job, and how he misses hanging out with me in the kitchen while I prep food and all the other little things he’d gotten used to with me living there.
At the end of the night, Tristan offers me his arm as we go down the stairs. He opens the car door and helps me with my dress. Instead of dropping me off at the front door, he parks and walks me to the elevators.
“I’m not inviting you in tonight,” I inform him as we get in the elevator.
He nods. “I know. I want to make sure you get in okay. And I want every minute I can get with you.” He leans against the mirrored-glass railing as we ascend, and I fidget with my purse strap. The doors open, and he laces our hands as we walk down the hall.
