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Setting out my planner, plugging in my laptop, and readying to start the day.
Then I saw the note propped up on my keyboard.
You can’t run forever, harpy.
“Harpy,” I whispered, crumpling the paper in my hand, shoving it into my trash can. “Harpy.”
I committed that word—and the slice through my middle—to memory.
Then I hit a key on my keyboard, started booting up my computer.
And as I waited for it to load, I gave in, dropping my head to my desk and allowing the tears to come.
Luckily, it was early so no one else was there, and no one would be there for a while. No one would hear me lose my shit, would walk in on me with reddened eyes and tears streaking down my cheeks.
Luckily,I had my makeup right there in my desk drawer…
Andluckily,I was really good with concealer.
Nineteen
Joel
Ihadn’t seen the woman for a fucking month, and now she was standing two feet away from me.
And I couldn’t do a damned thing about it.
She held the puck, gripping it with the same confidence as she’d gripped my cock weeks before, making the organ in question twitch in my fucking cup. Something that—newsflash—didn’t feel good in the least.
Something that wasn’t even in therealmof her fingers around my cock.
It was also something I couldn’t do anything about.
She’d spent the last month playing teleporter or ghost or woman who was supremely good at avoiding things she didn’t want to deal with.
Orpeopleshe didn’t want to deal with.
Menshe didn’t want to deal with.
Me being at the top of that list.
Meanwhile, I’d been at the rink regularly, seeing that trailer parked into the corner of the lot and knowing she was probably still sleeping on that damned couch, though I never saw her car when I was there, never caught her when she was in.
It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d gotten a copy of our schedule from Coach and added avoiding any events with the team to the long ass list of tasks she had in that planner of hers.
She couldn’t avoid the event tonight, though.
Opening night.
The Rush arena was full. River’s Bend was slowly getting back to normal. The first set of repairs had been completed on the houses that were the least damaged and people had moved home.
But not enough to fill the arena.
Nope. Instead, the townspeople of River’s Bend had traveled from far and wide to support our team, to fill the stands.
It was enough to bring a tear to a hockey player’s eye.
If only because theoneperson, the onewomanI wanted to support me was deliberately avoiding my eyes as she held a puck in one hand and the microphone in another.
