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Brooke:Do you want to study tomorrow?
Should I say yes? Or no? I need to find out what kind of games she’s playing and who she’s sleeping with on the team?
Me:I’ll be at the café after practice.
Brooke:But do you want to study?
Me:Depends.
Chapter Fourteen
BROOKE
If I wasn’t nervous before, I was as soon as Reed answered my message. Judging by his texting demeanor, he knows about Caleb and is upset that I didn’t tell him I had a son. When he looked into the stands and saw the little boy with me, I could see the disappointment fury in his body language.
Suck it up, Brooke. You had no reason to tell him. So, what if he gave you a few orgasms? And if you helped him study? Who meets someone then lists their autobiography? I flip flop between believing I should have told him and thinking we weren’t at that point. Hell, I didn’t even know his last name until the hockey game.
Since I needed to be here at six in the morning, Caleb comes to the café with me and sits at the counter eating French toast until the daycare center opens at seven.
Caleb gives Bonnie and Chuck a hug when it’s time to leave for daycare. Everyone loves my child. He’s funny and mesmerized by anything with syrup.
The morning passes slowly. It’s been five days since Reed and I kissed at the studio, and he consequently rejected me. I wipe the tables down for the third time before he strolls into the café. Damn him for being so ruggedly handsome. His hands are buried deep in the pockets of his black Spyder jacket. He looks left, then right, and our eyes connect.
I give him a thin-lipped smile and motion for him to sit. He takes heavy, hesitant strides and then stops in front of me.
“Hey,” I say.
“I’m not here for small talk. How could you do that to me?” His voice sounds scratchy like he’s sick. His nostrils flare, and I feel sick.
Is he serious? Under my breath, I say, “I’m allowed to come to a hockey game. Besides, you humiliated me… rejected me.”
He turns, running his fingers through his hair. It dawns on me that he came here straight from practice. His hair is still damp, and the cold air doesn’t help dry his thick mane. Why I never put two and two together is beyond me. He has the body of a hockey player, certainly has the confidence of one, and he came in here after Sunday morning practice with his hair damp the day after the bonfire.
“This is a prime example of how men and women process the same situation differently.” He lowers his voice. “I told you that I would have taken you right there if I didn’t stop. That wasn’t rejection… that was me taking it slow. I thought you were different. In a million years, I never took you for a puck bunny. But I had it all wrong, didn’t I?”
My eyebrows surge up on my forehead, blindsided by his accusation. “Excuse me. Did you just call me a puck bunny?” My voice is so taut, it feels like a harp string that’s been strung too tight and might pop at any moment. A burn in my gut tells me I misjudged Reed Bauer, sosayonara.
Our chests rise and fall at record speed. I close my eyes and realize I don’t even know what all this has to do with my three-year-old son. Reaching for his hands, he lets me hold them for a second before jerking them away.
“Are you on break so we can deal with this?” he asks.
Nodding, I go to the table in the back corner and slide into the booth.
“I can explain. I wanted to tell you,” I admit.
This time, his eyes widen, and his jaw clenches. He places his hands on the table and interlaces them. “Two weeks ago, you were kissing me, wanting more. Asking me to get you off, and you have the nerve to be mad at me for wanting to take things slow, and you… you…”
Here it comes. You have a kid that you didn’t tell me about. I open my mouth, but before I can speak, he vomits his words all over me. All my insecurities are back in full force. Before he made me feel powerful, sexy, and wanted. Now, I know he reserves that side for women without kids.
“You show up atmyfucking hockey game wearing one of my teammate’s jerseys. What the fuck?”
What the fuck is right? What’s he talking about?
While trying to process the incoming information, it finally occurs to me why he’s angry. He walked away from me the other night. I just wanted him to continue touching and kissing me. Is that so wrong?
Maybe he doesn’t know anything about Caleb.
When I don’t say anything, he says, “I thought we had something to build on, but you were already sleeping with one of my teammates.”
