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“That fucking guy! His name is Ezekiel Stone. See? He gave a different name, nothing but a player.Pleasetell me nothing happened!”
I’m shocked right now. I don’t know how to feel and I also don’t know how much to tell Rose because she seems pretty angry. But the guy she’s talking about is not the guy I met. Sure, he definitely felt like he was only out for a good time, but he was respectful. And caring. Even if just for a night.
“I didn’t know who he was, so maybe he wanted to keep the fact he plays hockey a secret.”
“Heuseshockey to score women, not keep it a secret.”
“He never said a word to me.”
My mind swirls, remembering how no one bothered us here at the bar. Remembering how easily we got a car. Remembering all the hockey decor at this apartment.
His apartment.
More like a penthouse.
Holy Shit. I had a one-night stand with the Gangsta Goalie of New York.
CHAPTER7
EZEKIEL
I’m watchingthe game from the locker room and I’m pissed as hell. This isn’t the first game they’ve suspended me for, and it certainly won’t be the last. I’m mad because I got caught. It’s rare for a goalie to catch a penalty, but the refs know to look for it from me.
I was pretty blatant about my actions.
I stretch out my legs and lean my head back on the couch, closing my eyes. I listen to the announcers talk about how damaging I am to the team. How I’m skating on thin ice,are they fucking serious with this analogy, and that once my contract here in New York runs out, I’ll most likely get the boot for good. No other team wants to put up with me.
I’m not the first player with a bad attitude, but I am the only player who’s been here for years where my age hasn’t softened me. If anything, it’s intensified. I’m a rough guy that has pent up frustration.
Speaking of frustration, I’ve jerked off every day since meeting Honey ten, no, eleven weeks ago. Yes, I’m counting and no, I don’t give a fuck how pathetic it makes me look. I’m the only one who knows how she turned my life upside down. Luke and Blake haven’t seen me take anyone home, but I put on a good show while we’re out. And besides the one game where I got suspended, they haven’t called me out about it since. The mags are still picking up that I’m a playboy.
Fuck ‘em, I don’t care what they write.
And Honey is just gone without a trace.
I should have given her my number. At least my name. Then she could find me if she wanted to.
I want her to find me.
Spotting her the moment she walked by, I felt something. Even though we only spent a few hours together, I knew she was different. Cliche? Yup. Ask me if I care? Fuck no.
But if they thought I was cranky and salty before? The longer I go without her, I just get worse.
However, she was the one who left. She took nothing. She didn’t look at Luke, Blake or anyone else, for that matter, during the time we spent together at the bar. She didn’t take her eyes off me the entire time that night. And it made me feel ten feet tall. She snuck out, though, like she wasn’t even there. The only thing that she left behind was a memory and sheets that smelled like her.
When my housekeeper came in and washed them? I fired her.
How do I find the one woman who made me feel more in seven hours than anyone else has in seven years? And if I can’t find her, how do I get over her?
CHAPTER8
HONEY
I pulledout my favorite pair of jeans. You know the ones, soft and worn, and make your ass look perfect. I had plans to pair it with my favorite Grateful Dead sweatshirt, compliments of my dad, throw on my chucks, and head out to the game.
But when I tried to zip them up, they didn’t fit. Despite not being able to eat, and throwing up all week, they should have gone on perfectly. In fact, they should have been big.
But they’re not.
