Page 92 of Body Check

thirty-three

. . .

Jason

I want to punch Parker Jenkins in his stupid fucking face. And since that’s not a thought I should have toward my teammate, I decide to punish myself by setting up shop in the stands overlooking the rink.

There’s still a half hour before practice starts. The barn is quiet, empty. I like it like this.

Jenkins is young, in his second full season with the team. He’s still learning. He might not have intended to proposition Amelia, or maybe he did and had the sense to walk it back, but who will teach him if I’m not here? There’s still so much to learn, both on and off the ice.

The fury that laced through me when he asked her out… She shouldn’t be subjected to that, not at work.

But she shut him down. Without a second thought, she shut him down.

Maybe she doesn’t have one foot out the door, after all. Maybe she really is as invested in this as me.

What am I going to do with her? How long will she want to keep us a secret?

Derek knows I’m seeing someone. Jenkins knows she’s seeing someone. How long until someone puts two and two together?

I want to be with her. I want a future with her. When I told Tyler I wasn’t ready to consider marriage, I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I’m afraid of commitment. If anything, I’m afraid of over committing. What if I want this more than she does? What if this is simply a fun way for her to pass the time, and now that I’m not on the road with her every week, she forgets about me?

I did the long-distance thing. I did the heavy travel thing. The road gets lonely, but being left behind hurts more.

Will she still love me when I’m home all the time? When I don’t have hockey occupying my every thought?

Wait a second. Love? Who said anything about love?

But immediately, I shake my head. I can’t kid myself.

I’m in love with Amelia Owen. Even though half the time she drives me crazy, I’m still one hundred percent irrevocably in love with her.

Now, I only have to figure out how to tell her.

Footsteps announce the arrival of another person, and I nod at Coach Turner as he approaches.

“How you doing?” he asks, taking a seat beside me on the uncomfortable metal bleacher.

“Hanging in there.” I still feel hollow at the end of my hockey career. I don’t know what to do next. There are too many options rather than not enough.

The world is my oyster, but all I want is to be a happy little clam with Amelia.

Hockey, health, and Amelia, that’s all I want. And not necessarily in that order.

“Doc says you’re out for the season,” Coach says. “And I know with the contract situation…”

“I think I’m done,” I admit quietly. “I haven’t told my agent yet, but we all know I can’t get the type of deal I want.”

“And what is it you want?”

Coach isn’t involved in contract negotiations; that’s between the GM and my agent. But he can give input.

“I don’t want to give up hockey. I’m not ready to lose that chapter,” I tell him. “But I want to stay in Boston. My life is here. I don’t want to start over with a new team, jockeying for playing time in a new system. I don’t know that my knee will hold up much longer, not to mention this mess with my Achilles.”

He hums. “When you zoom out and look at your life, what do you want?”

Amelia.