Chapter 11
O nce we finish practice—if we can call it that because it’s game night, so we didn’t do anything too strenuous—the team heads off the ice, but I skate toward where Kolt is standing.
An injury at the beginning of the season took him out for the time being, but he still joins every practice and even helps Coach a bit with the defensive guys since that’s what Kolt plays. It’s obvious some of the newer dudes on the team are intimidated by him, which checks out because he’s kind of terrifying.
“Kolburne,” I call out, and he lifts his gaze to mine.
Even though both of us are covered in tattoos, Kolt just carries himself differently. By differently, I mean, he’s sort of a grumpy asshole. Meanwhile, I’m that guy on the team who loves fucking with everyone and pranking them. Which is why I hung a huge dildo on Kolt’s locker before he got here this morning.
“Don’t even talk to me,” he grumbles. “I know that was you who put that fucking shit on my locker today.”
He was an easy target for the simple fact that since he isn’t practicing right now, he doesn’t usually need to go to the locker room before practice starts. The only reason why he did today was because some of the teammates had told him he had a surprise waiting for him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend,” I say with a shrug. “It was probably Sterns. Did it have a dad joke written on it in Sharpie?”
“Sterns couldn’t pull that off; he would have come out of the locker room, laughing his ass off,” he deadpans. “Plus, he knows better.”
His eyes tell me to cut the fucking shit, but I continue to act oblivious.
“Does he though?” I scratch my chin. “I don’t know what he knows. He’s foolish.”
“I know it was you, asshole,” he mutters. “Anyway, did you need something? I’d like to get home to my wife instead of standing here, looking at your ugly face.”
“Hey, so, yeah, that’s the thing.” I grin, hoping to butter him up. “Now that you and Paige are all fixed, happy, whole, and all that shit, she must be coming to the game tonight.”
He looks less than impressed. “Yeah, she insists on it even though I’ll just be keeping the fucking bench warm and won’t see the ice anyway.” His eyes narrow. “Why?”
I pat his shoulder, making him tense up and look like he might punch me.
“Well, funny story. I have a friend staying with me, and I’d love for her to come to the game tonight. But the kicker is that she doesn’t really have anyone to come with. So—”
“So, you want my wife to entertain your friend?” he says suspiciously. “Wait, is it that girl who came with your sister to Friendsgiving?” He pauses. “The one that was in the car accident ? When did she move in with you?”
I think everyone at that party suspected she hadn’t actually been in an accident, purely from the way she was acting. Luckily, no one called her out on it. Well, besides me.
I grimace, remembering how scraped up Gemma was when she first arrived in Portland. And how I accidentally touched her stomach and ribs, not knowing she was hurt.
“That’s the one.” I nod. “Gemma moved in with me last week because Saylor left for her new job. She’s a good person, but she’s been handed a lot of shit lately. She might not even want to come tonight; after all, I’m not exactly her favorite person.”
“She’s living with you,” he says matter-of-factly. “She must like you a little bit.”
I rear my head back, snorting. “Your wife moved in with you when you got injured. That didn’t mean she liked you, big fella.”
His face turns grumpy, and he looks away. “Fuck you.”
I really don’t know if Gemma is even going to want to go to a game or watch me play. It’s been years since she cheered me on in the stands, and the thought of it excites me and kind of sends a jolt right to my cock … but more than that, I just don’t want her to be alone tonight. I’ve tried to keep her busy every spare minute I’ve had. It’s only been five days since sh e moved in, and she sure as hell still doesn’t want to open up to me, but slowly, we’re making progress.
I think.
“You know I don’t ask anyone for much, Kolt.” I drop any jokes and decide to just be straight with him. “I need her to feel safe in Portland. I want her to understand that she can have a life and not just spend day in and day out cooped up inside my house.”
He observes me for a moment. “All right,” he utters. “I’ll talk to Paige, but I know my wife, and she’s always open to making a friend and helping someone out.”
“Just like her husband,” I say sarcastically, smacking his shoulder.
“Right,” he grumbles, turning away and heading toward the exit. “Don’t forget that toy of yours when you leave, Sawyer.”
I hold in my laugh when he mentions the dildo on his locker, knowing damn well he probably already threw it in the garbage to stop any more attention from coming his way.
“Let me know what Paige says,” I call after him.
He continues walking but holds his thumb up for me to see.
Paige is kind and smart. I trust her to make sure Gemma enjoys herself at the game tonight.
Now, I just need to convince Gemma to go.
“I told you, you don’t have to clean,” Smith calls out instantly when he walks through the door. “Lottie comes once a week and cleans the place.”
Instantly, an image of this Lottie woman in a seductive maid costume with her cleavage out floats into my brain, and I try not to scrunch my nose up. I can read, and I’ve seen things about Smith in the tabloids and on social media.
I know he gets around .
“Lottie is, like, sixty years old, by the way,” he adds like he can read my mind or something. “Just FYI.”
“I don’t care,” I say casually. “I just figured since I’m here, I might as well be useful.”
He looks amused, but he doesn’t tease me or try to imply that I actually do care. Which is great because I don’t. Why should I? I mean, why would it be my business if he was screwing the maid while she waited for the laundry to dry? Exactly. It’s not.
And I’m over him. Definitely. Totally. Completely.
“Well, you don’t need to do that,” he says, but suddenly, he gives me a grin. “Hey, so I have a game tonight, and I’d be pumped if you came to it.” He winks. “I even have a spare jersey you could wear, like old times.”
You’re over him. You’re over him. You’re over him.
Bitch, get it together. Why is your cold, dead heart fluttering the slightest bit right now?
“First off, old times were when we were teenagers. And … I shouldn’t,” I say, giving him a slight shake of my head. “The games are televised and all. So …”
He drops his duffel bag onto the floor before approaching me as I stand in the hallway, Storm right behind my legs. My heart speeds up the closer Smith gets, but it’s not from nerves or being afraid. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s simply because that’s what his presence still does to me, even after all the years we’ve been apart.
We’re two different people now. He’s a big star, and I’m just … damaged goods. My heart has no business racing this way, yet when he stops a mere six inches from me, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears because it’s beating so hard.
“You’re worried that he’ll see you on TV and come to Maine.” He says it as a statement and not as a question, but reluctantly, I nod.
“You have nothing to be scared of, Gem. I will never let anyone hurt you. I failed before, but I will never make that mistake again.”
Reaching out, his hand almost cups my cheek, and I step back.
“Stop doing shit like that,” I hiss. “Do you not remember what I said in my bedroom the other night? I have no interest in rekindling anything with you, Smith,” I lie through my teeth.
In a perfect world, I wouldn’t be this fucked-up soul, and we’d just fall back into exactly how we were when I was seventeen. But that’s not real life. That’s the type of crap you read in a book or watch in a movie. My life has proven to never be that way.
“It’s not like I grabbed your tits or took my dick out,” he says angrily, but quickly changes his tone. “I’m just trying to be here for you. Can’t you just fucking let me?”
“Be there for me without touching me!” I yell. “Be there for me without saying things that make me feel like—” I snap my mouth shut, not wanting to make the mistake of showing him my cards.
Since I’ve been staying with Smith, I’ve been having thoughts of him kissing me. Touching me. Fucking me. I’m sure it’s natural; after all, I spent the majority of my life wanting him, and then my dreams came true for a short time. It’ll all pass. I just have to be patient. But when he says those deep, sweet things or reaches for me … it makes it all so much more difficult to ignore.
“Feel like what, Firefly?” His gray eyes burn into mine. “Make you feel like I still want you?”
I suck in an angry breath through my nose, attempting to level him with a harsh glare, which is ineffective. Turning quickly, I begin marching to my room, hearing Storm’s toenails right behind me. I make it to the door when I know Smith is following too.
Whirling around, I point my finger at him. “Go away. I need a goddamn minute.”
“I can’t stop saying things that show I still want you, Gem.” His voice is hoarse, and his body is tense. “Because I’ve never fucking stopped wanting you. Not ever.”
“Don’t say that,” I growl. “You can’t say shit like that. We had an agreement.”
“Tell me you don’t fucking feel it,” he says, stepping closer and tapping his palm to his chest. “Tell me to my face that you don’t feel me everywhere when our skin touches. That you don’t still want me the way I want you.”
He reaches for me again, but this time, I’m frozen in place.
“Tell me you don’t still love me, Gemma. Tell me all those things, and I’ll leave you alone.”
His face dips closer, and his lips are a mere inch or two from mine, his minty breath all up in my space .
“Say the words, Gem. If all you need is a friend, I told you, I’ll be your friend,” he rasps, tortured. “But, fuck, I hope that isn’t what you want.”
My eyes float to his lips, and my breath hitches. I remember exactly how his lips felt and how his kiss tasted, but right now, I have the painful memory of kissing Richie in my head, and that’s enough to make me sick. It would be good to cleanse my brain of those thoughts. Maybe kissing Smith could help that. Maybe it could mend me.
No, you dumbass. You are the only one who can fix you.
“That’s what I want,” I say bluntly. “To be your friend and nothing else. So, please, stop pulling this shit, or I promise you I’m going to leave.”
I know my words hurt him because he flinches. He takes hits on the ice for a living; he is covered in tattoos and made up of pure muscle. Yet I have the ability to bring him pain. Regardless of our past, I don’t want to hurt Smith. I just want to survive my life.
“All right,” he whispers gruffly. “Regardless, I’d still like you to go to the game tonight. I promise that you’ll be safe. I’ll have one of the Sharks security guards sit close, and you’ll be with Kolt’s wife, Paige.”
I frown, rearing my head back. “I don’t even know Paige. I talked to her for, like, point-five seconds at Friendsgiving. Why would I go with her?”
“Because she’s nice and I trust her with you,” he says evenly. “If you are really uncomfortable with going to a game, I’ll drop it, and I won’t ask again. But I’d love to look up in the stands and see you there …” He pauses. “As my friend, of course.”
I’m not sure why he cares if I go to his game or not. Maybe he’s worried about me being home alone late at night. Perhaps he just feels bad and wants me to be included.
Maybe he cares more than I’m giving him credit for.
Whatever it is, something inside of me tells me to just give him this. To go, put a hat on to make myself more comfortable, sit in the stands with a chick I don’t know, and watch some hockey.
Tossing my head upward, I sigh dramatically before looking back at him. “Fine, I’ll go,” I grumble before raising my eyebrows. “But I’m not wearing your jersey. That’s pushing it.”
He grins, seeming more than impressed with my answer, and throws his arms around me. Even though I want to melt into him, my body stiffens like a board as a defense mechanism, and he chuckles .
“Just a friendly hug, Gem. Don’t lose your shit on me.”
After a few seconds, my body involuntarily relaxes, and I can’t fight my nose from breathing him in. A calmness washes over me that I haven’t felt in quite some time, and when he releases me, I try not to show that I’m disappointed.
Smith has the ability to make me lose myself, but I can’t do that. Not this time.
“I have to be at the arena early, but Kolt texted me and said that Paige would be riding in with him, so we figured you two could hang out a bit before the game.” He sounds nervous at the end of his words. “I promise, she’s really nice. I mean, shit, she puts up with Kolt’s ass.”
“Your sister said they separated or something?” I say, raising a curious brow.
“They did for a while, but they’re good now,” he answers nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal. “If anyone didn’t need to take a break from Kolburne, I’d be suspicious of them.”
“I kind of assumed you two were the closest, seeing as how you’re both covered in tattoos and all.” I plop myself on the edge of my bed, and Storm instantly leaps up beside me.
“I’m close with almost all the guys, but Ryder is my best friend.” He grins. “That dude is like a brother to me.”
“Nice.” I bob my head, fighting back a smirk.
It feels good to know something that Smith doesn’t know, and if I didn’t love my best friend more than any other human being in the world, I’d probably throw her under the bus for having a secret history with Ryder. History that, somehow, Smith has no idea about. Then again, after she dated one of Smith’s past teammates and it ended ugly, she told me Smith banned any other teammates from going near her, moving forward. I can’t really blame him because what that douchebag did to her was disgusting and caused her so much pain.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you and my traitorous dog alone,” Smith says. “Let me know when you want lunch.”
“You cook now?” I’m surprised; it’s been five days since I moved in here, but we’ve DoorDashed almost every meal, and I’ve cooked a few.
“Yeah. It’s called grilled cheese.” He laughs before his expression grows more serious. “Hey, on the drive home, I was thinking … if you ever want me to take you down to that beach so that you can hunt for sea glass, I will anytime. I know the weather’s been kind of shitty, but it wouldn’t be too bad on a warm day.”
At the mention of sea glass, I freeze up. When I was a kid, sea glass was something my mom and I collected together. It was calming for me after a long school day. But now, I just think of all those pieces that were thrown at me, pelting my body and my face like pieces of hail. It’s just another memory that Richie ruined for me. Another joy … ruined.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As if sensing it’s a tough subject, he presses his palms together and nods. “All right, let me know if you want my world-class grilled cheese.” He smiles before walking out of the room.
I don’t owe him every single detail of what’s happened in my life. Then again, sometimes, I feel like it would be so nice to just let it all out.
Flopping back on the bed, I sigh. Because on another note …
I guess I’m going to a hockey game tonight.