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She didtryto tell me.
The conflicting thoughts continue to swirl within me, creating a slice of uncertainty. Whenever I’m with Brooke, the darkness and hate in me diminishes, as if she has the power to heal me in ways I never thought possible. However, engaging in a romantic relationship with someone who is my coach’s daughter is one thing; combined with her having a child is an entirely different level of commitment.
Just last night, I convinced myself that we could navigate the complexities of our situation, despite the fact her father isn’t only my coach, but he also holds the power over my future.
Will I ever be in control of my life?
If I don’t have hockey, I have nothing. I was willing to take a gamble, to keep our relationship a secret for a while, and see where it would lead us. If our connection turned out to be fleeting, her father would remain unaware. But if it turned into something deeper, we would confront her father’s wrath together, hand in hand.
However, in the light of day, doubts creep in, casting shadows over my resolve.
Dressed and warming up, Flynn asks why I didn’t come to the party last night. My teammates know I’m off kilter. I have partied from the time I set foot on campus until about a month ago. Seeing my roommates happy and in love, always laughing and snuggled up together, has made me want for more than the thrill of hockey or the next puck bunny. Hockey can’t fill what I’m missing.
“Better things to do.”
He scoffs, “Better than half-naked women begging for you to suck tequila from their belly button? Doubtful.”
Oh, it was better.
After an hour of drills, we scrimmage for two hours. I’m hitting the hell out of the puck. Slashing and cutting through the ice like my life depends on it, and maybe it does. Coach holds my life in his hands, my future too. The puck is a symbol of my heart being knocked around, not that I'm not used to it. I've basically been on my own my whole life.
“What the hell was that, Bauer?” Coach’s voice is clipped, and his eyes narrow with his hands on his hips.
“Sorry, Coach. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You’ve been playing hockey since you were four years old. You shouldn’t have to think to know when you’re offsides. Now get that stick out of your ass and play like the player you're supposed to be.”
“Yes, sir.”
Coach wouldn't want to know what I'm really thinking about. His daughter's glimmering strands of red running through her dark-blond hair. Her creamy skin. Her seductive smell and sweet taste. The way she took every bit of my length and purred for more. How her eyes doubled in size when I spun her around and took down her hair, letting it fall in waves over her delicate, beautiful body. The way we made love, no wait, the way we had sex, slow and sensual.
Damn, I have no idea what I'm going to do. I wander around campus, even go to the café to return her phone, but she isn’t there. Hagan calls, asking me to meet for a quick lunch at the commons. I’m not ready to fill him in on last night’s activities because more than ever, I need to know what it meant to her and if I’m worthy of meeting her son. Then I go to a film session.
After watching game film with the team, I wait and follow Coach, knowing he’s picking up her son for the dinosaur exhibit. Hanging back, I pull up outside the same apartment complex where I followed her last night. I had looked it up on the campus housing website, and I was right—it’s family housing. Now, I’m bracing myself, hoping she’s not married or attached to a guy living in the same house. When Brooke and I are together, everything in the background vanishes, and we’re each other’s sole focus. I should have asked her about her living arrangements last night.
Light snow flurries blow in the wind, landing on my windshield, then melt on the heated glass. I lean my head on the headrest, while Eric Church plays on my radio. I have no idea what I’m going to say or do.
Sitting in my car, I wait until Coach and the cutest little boy come out. Coach has him on his hip and a blue and yellow overnight bag slung over his shoulder. Caleb is wearing a Batman knit cap and a royal-blue coat as he kisses Coach’s cheek.
My mom and I were close when I was his age, at least I think we were. I only have a few memories before the age of seven or eight.
I don’t know how long I’ve been thinking but when I open my eyes, Brooke is locking her door. She’s carrying a large tote bag, larger than the purse-tote she had at the bonfire. Two strides later, she jumps into her car, backs out, and leaves.
I pull out, unsure if I’m going to follow her. But she needs her phone, right? Where’s she going? I realize I don’t know much about Brooke except her body fits mine perfectly. She’s good at English literature, teaching ballet, and works at the café. Her dad is my coach, and she has a little boy.
Thirty minutes later, she arrives at her destination, The Lodge at Deer Creek. I feel like an undercover investigator as I keep my distance but keep her in my sight. Brooke checks in at the registration desk, and the overly flirtatious man hands her a key card.
Is she meeting someone? After what we did last night? Fuck. Now, what am I going to do?
The lodge is only two floors, and she walks up the steps. The balcony of the second floor overlooks most of the lobby, so I watch until she opens the hotel door, five doors from the staircase.
Once she’s inside, I stand outside her door with her phone in hand and knock. A sick feeling travels through my stomach. How many times have I had to face disappointment?
She opens the door with it cracked just enough that she’s resting her head against the edge. Her brows furrow. Shit, this looks bad. I’m a fucking stalker.
Brooke swallows. “Reed. Why are you here?”
“I’m not sure.” I hold out her phone. “Thought you might need this.”
