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That right there should have been a clue that it was never going to work.
I’d kill to have Stevie come on the road with me. Away games are tough because you’re battling that extra member of the opponent’s team—the fans. Just having that one fan in the stands cheering you on can make a huge difference. Even if you can’t hear them, you can feel them. At least that’s what some of the guys say when their girls come to cheer them on.
I can believe it with Stevie. She’s the type of woman that if she were in your corner, you’d never have to worry about what might sneak up behind you. That has become super apparent the more I’ve learned about her, which includes how she was raised by a single father, a biker tattoo artist who, by all accounts, is a phenomenal dad, after her mom decided it was too hard to be a parent.
I mean, what does that do to a child? And yet, Stevie is very stoic about the entire thing. She understands her mother probably better than the woman understands herself. On this side of adulthood, Stevie has become strong and independent with a tremendous capacity for care, tenderness, and kindness. I’ve seen all those traits so far during our deep talks about her lack of mother figure and me losing my sister.
And the thing that touches me the most, and also makes me a bit fearful for Stevie, is that there’s still a part of her—that little girl inside—who wants her mom to be a mom to her. She’s an optimist, and she’s holding out hope that maybe one day they’ll have something meaningful.
“My man.” A hand comes down on my shoulder, and I jolt to find Bain there. “You are lost in some heavy thoughts.”
“Just thinking about Stevie.” No sense in lying.
I half expect him to rib me about it, but he says, “She’s cool as fuck.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“But… she’s not here. So come join our sedate little party and celebrate.”
Grinning, I grab my beer from the bar top and follow Bain to where everyone’s gathered at the back. To my surprise, several girls have mixed in with the players, sipping glasses of champagne.
“Puck bunnies came out of the woodwork,” I observe as we draw closer.
“Not puck bunnies.” Bain nods to the right, and I see a few women at the bar, one wearing a crown on her head and sash across her front that says Bride To Be. “Bachelorette party starting up. They’re apparently staying here at the hotel to party the night away. They’re having a pre-party drink here.”
“Hundred bucks says they don’t head out as long as there are hockey players here,” I muse as I take in the heavy flirting going on between some of my mates and the women.
I follow Bain over to where Kirill, Boone, and Camden are holding court with a group of bachelorette partiers. We’re introduced, and because I’m good with names, I remember the tall redhead is Harper, the equally tall blond is Mimi, and the short blond is Marisol.
“You ladies should just stay here for your bachelorette party,” Kirill says, and I cut a grin at Bain.
“Well,” Mimi says with a coy grin. “We were hoping to see some male strippers tonight. I suppose if you guys were willing to take off your clothes…”
“We can absolutely accommodate that,” Kirill says, and I’ve come to know him well enough the last nine months to know he’s not kidding.
Shaking my head in amusement, I take a sip of my beer and angle my body to watch one of the large TVs on the wall, currently tuned in to ESPN. They’re showing coverage of tonight’s league games, specifically a bench-clearing brawl between the Montreal Wizards and the New York Phantoms. My knuckles tingle as I watch for when I dropped the gloves tonight and landed a solid right jab into my opponent’s jaw before we both crashed to the ice. It was a satisfying five-minute penalty, and we held off the power play.
“Are you a fighter for your team?”
I twist my neck to see the redhead, Harper, standing beside me. She’s wearing a barely there silver dress, sipping on a fruity drink through a straw.
“A defenseman,” I say genially, turning her way. “And I’ve been known to throw a punch or two when the time is right.”
She stares at me appraisingly. “We’re thinking about just hanging here tonight. Maybe you can buy me a drink?”
I blink at her in surprise. Not that I’m being hit on, because that’s happened plenty in my life. Being a professional athlete has its perks.
The surprise is more of a slight panic, not knowing how to respond. I’ve been on two dates with Stevie, and we’ve had sex.
Plenty of spectacular sex.
I plan on seeing her when I get back.
