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Natalie
My stomach is in knots, and it’s not because we’re 2-2 with a minute left in the third and Boston has control of the puck. No, it’s the man ready to vault into the action that has me all tied up.
“See you after the game.”
Not maybe he’ll see me. Just that hard, level stare that spoke louder than his words.
God, what was I thinking kissing him like that?
I know better. For myself and for him. I’ve spent half my life in the shadow of a star that burned too bright for even my own parents to notice me behind it. Half my life finding out that too many friends weren’t reallymyfriends at all, just fans looking for an all-access pass to my brother. Half my life being forced to give up the things that mattered most to me for the sake of Greg’s skyrocketing hockey career.
When it comes to the rest of my life, I’m going to be more than a supporting character. That’s why I’ve never been interested in an NHL player… well, except for Vaughn. But even with him, it wasn’t like I wanted todatehim. I never wanted to score a permanent position on the sidelines of his life. I just wanted—I wanted to know what it was like to talk to the guy who’d caught my interest back when he was still a boy, and then I wanted to know what it felt like to give in to the only attraction that has ever completely overwhelmed me.
But just once.
After that I was supposed towantto walk away. But walking away that night in Vancouver was brutal. And the only way I managed it at all was counting the ways I was never going to let anyone’s hockey career make me take a backseat in my life again. I’ve been doing it since the trade at the start of the season. And today I’ve been grasping to hold on to the most brutal sacrifices made on the altar of Greg’s career because the second I stop, I’m thinking about Vaughn.
About the way he plays with little kids and how his own generosity embarrasses him. I’m thinking about the rare smile I’m fairly certain I’ve seen more than everyone else in this city combined, and how it makes me melt every time I get a peek at it. I’m thinking about the way he looked at me before he kissed me today and even more… the way he looked at me after. I’m thinking about the feel of those powerful arms closing around me and how I can’t remember anything in my life feeling as right as being within them.
Enough.I’m smarter than this.
Eyes on the game.
Greg takes a hit the refs miss, and the crowd erupts around me, screaming at the officials as he skates toward the bench. But what I’m focused on is Vaughn blasting onto the ice like a force of nature, cutting around one player and then, lightning fast, changing direction to intercept a pass. The puck is his, and with three Bruins players right on him, he moves it between his skates and then theirs, passes to O’Brian who gets it to Diesel. Back to Vaughn. My heart stops and I’m out of my seat as Chicago’s least popular player charges into an opening a sliver wide and, with fifteen seconds left on the clock, turns an impossible play into a Slayers win.
The fans go wild, pounding the glass to cheer as Vaughn’s met with a clobbering hug from O’Brian and Diesel as they pass the bench in a growing cluster of celebration.
And all the while, he’s watching me.
See you after the game…
It’s in his eyes. It’s in that cocky half smile he so seldom lets off the leash. It’s burning low in my belly, making me ache. Tingling over my still-sensitive lips.
Everyone is talking about Vaughn as the stadium clears out. There’s something different in the way they say his name tonight. Same is true when we get to the Five Hole.
Vaughn’s not standing at the far end of the bar, warding off bunnies while he talks to one of the few guys on the team he manages to get along with. No, he’s surrounded by seven teammates, all laughing and clapping his shoulders and treating him like—heck, like he’s part of the team and not just the jerk who took a swing at their captain a week into the season.
It looks like he’s doing exactly what his agent told him he needed to. He’s getting his team behind him and reminding Oregon why they want him.
Vaughn’s eyes come up, unerringly finding mine with that shiver-and-burn intensity. My mouth goes dry and, for a beat, I can’t move. I can’t do anything but wish things were different.
I take a steadying breath and give him an apologetic smile I know he understands from the way his brows dig together, and then I leave before either of us does something stupid.
When I get home, I kick my Chucks into the corner by the closet and look around my empty apartment feeling at loose ends. I don’t trust myself with the replay of the game I just watched. I can’t handle seeing Vaughn Vassar looking at me like that again tonight. Not without risking things neither of us ought to risk.
Closing my eyes, I slowly lower myself to sit at the stepdown to the living area and try to focus on all the reasons leaving the bar was the right thing to do. Telling myself that kiss from this afternoon was a mistake, no matter how good it felt.
So good.
I could be back at the bar in—
Knock, knock, knock.
Sucking in a startled breath, I push to my feet. My heart speeds as that restless feeling in my belly turns into a kind of instinctual pull that draws me to the door.
I don’t have to check to know this isn’t my brother.
It’s not George looking to chat, or Helene showing up with snacks and office gossip.
