CHAPTER 5
Raffi
My arm burns as I step out onto the street.
Brash? Absolutely. Impulsive is my middle name. It’s not really but it kind of sounds cool to just go do something because it feels right. But this… Shit. Mom’s gonna kick my ass over this one. I’ve always wanted ink, but never been brave enough to take the plunge. This… Fuck. This was kinda stupid, right? Definitely stupid.
The brightly colored firecracker emblazoned on my inner forearm with yesterday’s date underneath it pulses. It’s not huge, a couple inches at most, but Sigyn is the woman I’m going to marry.
The woman has been consuming my every damn thought. I should message her.
No. I should wait. I should definitely wait.
After significant deliberation on her part, I left with her number this morning. I don’t want to seem too needy and clingy. She strikes me as the kind of woman who enjoys a bit of space. How long constitutes an acceptable amount of time passing before I can reach out?
I already miss her acerbic wit. And those captivating eyes.
Jesus. I got a tattoo of a fucking firecracker on my arm for her, and she’ll probably slice my arm off when she sees it. But the heart wants what it wants.
My gut has never led me wrong. Never. I mean, occasionally it gets confused between decision and indigestion. But it hasn’t let me make a bad call yet.
When I was applying for college, I was offered a hockey scholarship to a few different places. My gut told me to stay local, to stay home, to stay close to Mom. Two weeks after the term started, my grandpa suffered a major stroke and died.
Like I said, my gut is never wrong.
And my gut tells me this woman is important.
As I make my way to the ice rink for our game, I can’t get her out of my head. The smoothness of her skin, how ticklish she is, twitching and jerking under my featherlight touch, and how she responded to my tongue.
If I had the choice, I’d still be in bed with her. Swallowing down a yawn, I loosen my shoulders. My muscles are heavy with exhaustion from a long and active night. Making Sigyn come is almost as good as playing hockey. Maybe even better. But if my teammates ever heard me say that they’d never let me live it down.
Rein it in, rookie.
So I’ll tuck it inside my chest, and message the new woman in my life as soon as I get off the ice. Another few hours won’t kill me.
With a groan, I grip the back of my neck.
It might actually kill me.
I want to know everything about her. From the moment she was born. Who is she? What does she like and dislike? Who are her friends? Her family? What does she want to do with her life? Who’s the asshole that hurt her?
I want to thank him for being such a stupid fuck and letting her go.
Warm up is a blur. For the first time in a long time I’m distracted from the game that lives inside my veins.
“The fuck was that?”
“Leave him alone, Coop.” Our captain, August Cade, smacks Cooper Duke on the ass with his twig.
“We’re all thinking it.” Coop points at me as he retorts. “Get your head in the game or their defense will destroy you.”
They’re the last words he says to me before he disappears into the locker room. No one else says anything, but I do get a couple concerned glances. Didn’t think I was quite that bad in warm up, but I guess I was more distracted than I thought.
Fuck.
August takes me aside before we walk into the locker room. “You need to talk about anything?”
Definitely not. “I’m good.”
