I paced back and forth, hands on my head, puffing my cheeks through slow, deep breaths of air in case I hyperventilated. My adrenaline spiked and I clenched my fists to stop the shaking, fully aware of everyone staring at me.
“Drew…” Freddie reached out to me tentatively. “Are you okay? This is a good thing, right?”
I looked at her face, worry etched across it, and my heart melted.
In the year she’d been living here with Cooper, she’d become one of my best friends. Since the dramatic change in my social life, I’d been pouring all my energy into renovating my house with Freddie’s help. We’d worked closely together and she’d become my confidante, listening to me for hours on end while I talked about Lucky, offering advice, never judging. Although all the boys knew I’d been angry at not finding her, only Freddie and Felix knew the depths of my devastation.
My heartache.
The incessant emptiness I felt like a chill deep in my bones.
“Yes, Fredster, yes it is. Thank you for telling me and I’m sorry I yelled.” I pulled her into a brief hug, kissing her head, before turning to Jas. “Can I borrow some running shorts? I need to get out of here.”
He nodded. “Yeah, man, take what you need. There’s some clean stuff in the laundry room.”
“Thanks.” I stormed down the hall, finding a pile of clothes in a basket ready to be put away. Taking a pair off the top, I stripped down and pulled them on.
Felix walked in, picking up a pair for himself.
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m coming with you,” he said in a tone that wasn’t worth arguing with.
I gritted my teeth. “Fine, but don’t fucking speak to me.”
I took off at a punishing pace toward the park, my raging thoughts pushing me forward.
I’d expected my memories to fade over time, but they’d only got stronger and more pronounced, like barrel aged whiskey or a fine wine.
I don’t know how I remembered her scent - like rain on a hot summer day - or the feel of her soft skin against mine as shefit perfectly into me, or the curve of her lower back as I ran my hands over it and down to her round, firm ass… or the warmth of her exquisite, velvety pussy, as she wrung my cock dry with violent convulsions, clenching over and over while I watched her shatter beneath me.
But I did. I remembered it all. And for nine months, it had been right here.
In this city.
Under my fucking nose.
I pushed on further until my lungs were burning, until I couldn’t breathe. I pulled up on a quiet spot near the reservoir.
“Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?” Felix bent over, his hands on his knees, before collapsing back on the ground. “It’s a good job I’ve stepped up training before actual pre-season starts.”
I walked around him as he star-fished on the ground, a slight smirk curling my lip. “Pussy.”
I wanted to be on my own, but, as always, I was glad he was here, lifting me out of my sullenness, because he knew me better than anyone else in my life.
We’d played together for over a decade, first at college, then the team. It had been so long that we knew what the other was thinking almost before it happened, best friends who could communicate with a single look. We were a pair and everyone knew it, and much to the amusement of our teammates, we regularly appeared in memes which said ‘I wish my boyfriend would look at me the way- insert either one of our names –looks at…’. We’d even had it built into our contracts that if one of us was traded, then we both were.
As power forwards we were an indisputable force when it came to the ice, and between the pair of us, we usually ranked at the top of the annual ‘most goals scored’ list. With Cooper between us, we made up one of the most formidable lines in the NHL, dubbed ‘The C Line Express’ by our fans, down to the factthat our names - Cooper, Crawley and Cleverly - started with C, and that we usually scored within seconds of the puck drop.
He sat up, his arms resting on his knees. “Dude, seriously. Why are you so angry? This is a good thing, isn’t it?”
I linked my fingers behind my neck, pulling on it in frustration. “Because she’s been here for nine months! I could have found her already, and it’s my fault for being a dumbass.”
He looked up at me, his eyes sympathetic. “Give yourself a break. You lost her number; people do it all the time. You’ve definitely done it before.”
“Your point?”
He sighed. “My point is, take the pressure off yourself. Remember what Tate said - you might not even like her when you meet her. This might have been a one-time thing that you’ve built into something more. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment.”
