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Hendrix got back in the early-morning hours from an away game in Vegas, so he spent today catching up on sleep, doing laundry, and paying bills. That means I haven’t seen him in a day and a half, and it’s felt like a month. I don’t ever want to unlink my arm from his.
Yes, it’s been a whirlwind romance, but there’s nothing flighty about my feelings for Hendrix. They are deeper and more grounded than anything I’ve ever felt for another human, except for my father.
I feel it in return. Hendrix is a man who isn’t afraid to be open about his emotions, and he’ll say what’s on his mind.
The only problem with us growing closer is that my fear of abandonment sometimes flares. The more I feel for him, the more I know how hurt I’ll be if he leaves me. It’s times like these I have to be logical because deep down in my gut, I know he’s not that type. He’s looking for a solid, committed relationship, and I’m ready to give it to him.
But if a mom can leave her little girl, then…
“… to get your dad a gift.”
“What?” I say, glancing over at Hendrix and realizing I zoned out, lost in my intrusive thoughts.
“Is it appropriate for me to get your dad a gift for Christmas?” He unlinks our arms as we approach the grand porch and grabs my hand. “I don’t want to make it weird for him, and I don’t expect anything back, but I wanted to give him a ten-pack of Titans’ tickets.”
“My dad would love that,” I assure him. “And he’ll totally be weirded out, wondering if he should have gotten you a gift, which he won’t. He’s not good about stuff like that, but if it helps, he really does like you.”
Hendrix laughs and squeezes my hand. “That’s good enough for me.”
We trot up the porch and step into Brienne’s house. We’re about ten minutes late, and the party is in full swing. The first five minutes, we walk around, my jaw hanging open at the grandeur of the place. Crystal chandeliers, high-end art, beautifully carved furniture. Stunning silk rugs grace every room, and the trim molding has intricate patterns hand-etched into the wood.
At one point, Hendrix actually puts his fingers under my chin to nudge my mouth closed.
I laugh and whisper, “Never in my life did I think I’d date a professional hockey player, and now here I am surrounded by them, in the home of one of the richest women in the world.”
“But your favorite part of all that is dating me, right?” Hendrix asks.
“By far,” I say with a firm nod.
“Good.”
Hendrix and I grab drinks from a bar and check out the food stations set up throughout the house. We decide to eat after we mingle.
It’s funny, because I know some of the tighter bonds run right down the lines on which the guys play. Hendrix is on the second line with Foster Macinnis, Liam Nicholson, Darius Cermak, and Camden Poe, and that’s who he usually pals around with in off-hours.
But tonight, we seem to be congregated around the female bonds on the team.
I’ve been invited in and made one of them. Brienne hosted us all in the owner’s box for the game, and there’s apparently a monthly lunch get-together they want me to join with them. I’m standing with Brienne, Harlow, Tillie, Jenna, and Sophie.
And with these women, so go their men—Drake, Stone, Coen, Gage, and Baden. Three players and two coaches, all the lines blurred as we’re gathered in friendship and Christmas cheer.
“There’s the man of the hour,” Gage says, and we all turn to see Coach West walking toward us, holding hands with his girlfriend, Ava. I have yet to meet either of them, although the other ladies clearly know her as they move in for hugs while Coach West shakes hands with everyone.
He reaches us, and Hendrix introduces me. “Coach… this is my girlfriend, Stevie.”
We shake and he says, “It’s great to meet you, Stevie.”
“It’s really great to meet you, Coach West.”
“Cannon,” he says sternly, then grins. “At least when we’re at Christmas parties.”
I’m pulled over to the ladies and introduced to Ava, then the men filter back into our group. We break off into smaller conversations, make plans to get together, and eventually decide to get some food.
Hendrix and I fill our plates, refresh our drinks, and tuck ourselves into a corner with Tillie and Coen.
“We’re thinking of coming to your bar after tomorrow’s game,” Tillie says.
“Oh, that would be awesome. I’ll reserve you a table.”
“Tired of the crowd at Mario’s,” Coen says, and Hendrix nods. “They’re great and all. The fans are amazing, but it’s also just…”
“Overwhelming,” Hendrix supplies. “Sure, if we were single dudes wanting to party under the accolades of the masses, Mario’s is the place to be.”
