Page 73 of Golden Goal

My mouth falls open.

“Why do you think you’re broken?” I finally manage to ask.

“I don’t think I am. I know it. Kat saw to that.”

My heart cracks in two. Madison was right; Kat was a bitch. If she ever shows her face around here, she and I will be having words. Maybe more than words.

“Holt . . .” I whisper.

He’s silent for a few seconds, and I think he’s going to change the subject, but he doesn’t.

“She didn’t want me anymore. If I wasn’t good enough for her, and she’s known me for years, how am I ever going to be good enough for you? Someone new. I couldn’t keep her attention. Keep her interested. Keep her from wandering into another guy’s bed.” He sucks in a deep breath. “How am I going to be good enough for you? It was stupid of me to ask you to date me.” He runs a hand through his hair, roughly tugging on it. “I second guess everything between us. Wondering if you’re going to be mad at me for something I do or say. The way she would always be.”

“Holt.” I put my hand on his arm to stop him from ripping out his hair. “Look at me,” I whisper, blinking back the tears that form at his confession. He does as I ask. “It’s not your fault she couldn’t keep it in her pants. That’s on her. Not you.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “We dated in high school. She cheated on me with the captain of the baseball team. Told me she needed someone to warm her bed while I was at practice, but it wasn’t serious between them. Then I went and took her back, like the idiot that I am, when she showed up here a few years ago.”

“Why did you break up this time?”

He barks out a laugh. “She broke up with me because I refused to ask for a trade to Vancouver. Her job is headquartered there, and Vancouver’s chances of making the finals were better. I refused. These guys are my family. My brothers. I sure as shit wasn’t going to ask to be traded away from them. We’ve won one Stanley Cup together, and I hope we win another one, but if we don’t, that’s okay, too.

“She didn’t take it well. Told me I was picking the Storm over her. Which, according to her, was a mistake because I was probably at my peak as a goalie. She claimed I only had a few good years left. Asked me if I even wanted to win another Cup. Insisted she was simply trying to help me by ‘suggesting’ the trade. She didn’t understand why I got so angry about her ‘suggestion.’” He tips his head back against the wall. “Then she told me I was useless in bed, and that she wasn’t satisfied. That she never”—he cringes—“finished. Told me her vibrator brought her more sexual pleasure than I did.”

“What the fuck,” I hiss. “She’s wrong. You have a long time left of your career. Your body is in great shape. I should know, I am your physical therapist. I can’t attest to the sexual pleasure thing, but I don’t believe her. If she was unsatisfied, she should have talked to you. Told you what she liked, and didn’t like. For fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah . . .” He looks away.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Sorry she treated you that way.” I grimace. “I hope I’ve never made you feel the way she did.”

“No. Never, Becca.”

“I like you, Holt. I enjoy spending time with you, and with Hazel. I want to see where things go with us, but I’m scared. I haven’t dated anyone seriously in a long time. Part of me is afraid I’ll hurt you. Even before I knew what she did to you.”

“I like you, too. I’m sorry I overreacted.” His voice hitches, and he stares down at the ground.

I reach over, cup his chin, and stroke his cheek with my thumb.

My poor broken goalie. I want to protect him and make him feel better.

“Don’t apologize for how you feel.”

He turns his head, kissing my palm. “I know you’re not her. That you won’t treat me the same way she did. I just get scared that I’ll fuck things up with you.”

I blow out a breath. “Maybe it’s good for both of us that we’re taking things slow.”

He nods. “Promise me you’ll tell me if I do or say something you don’t like.”

“I promise.”

His lips tip up into a small smile, and he tugs on my arm, pulling me into his lap. “Good. Now are you sure you can’t hang out tonight?” He wraps his arms around me, and I sink into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut.

“I wish.”

He brushes my hair aside and kisses my cheek. “Okay. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

I’m folding laundry on the couch a few hours later when my phone rings.

“Hey, Dad.”