Page 152 of Power Play

“Then make this make sense.”

“I know the difference between being wanted and being desired.”

She stared at me. “Those are the same thing.”

“No, they fucking aren’t.”

Her mouth parted.

I hated how angry I sounded, but I had spent my whole life learning that distinction. I couldn’t soften it into something prettier because hearing the truth hurt.

“I’ve been desired by women since hockey started putting my name on things. They want the tattoos, the jersey, or the story they get to tell their friends about fucking El Cuchillo. Some want whatever fantasy they built about the barrio kid who made it out and plays hockey now.”

Charm’s face tightened.

“Desire is easy,” I continued. “It asks for whatever part of a person is exciting and leaves the rest untouched.”

“I’m not some puck bunny.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You’re putting me in the same category.”

“No. I’m telling you why wanting me means something different.”

Her arms folded across herself, and I could almost see every defense rising.

“You desire me,” I said. “I know that. I feel it every time you kiss me, and I knew it before you showed up dressed like every bad decision I have ever wanted to make.”

She didn’t smile, and neither did I.

“But I need you to want me when wanting me costs you something.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not wondering whether you want me alone in my apartment. I know you do.”

“Then what are you wondering?”

“Whether you’ll still choose me when somebody you care about doesn’t like it.”

Silence filled the apartment.

Charm’s face went blank in the particular way people did when they had been hit too close to the truth and needed a few seconds to decide whether to deny it or attack.

She chose attack.

“This is about my parents?”

“It’s about you.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It’s fucking true.”

She shook her head and turned away.

I followed her toward the living room. “I’m not asking you to call your father tonight and tell him you’re sleeping with me. I’m not asking you to post a fucking announcement. I’m telling you I’m not giving you every vulnerable piece of me while I’m still wondering whether you’ll act like I’m nothing if the wrong person walks into the room.”