For Pucking Keeps: A Hockey Romance (The Seattle Vipers Series Book 1)

16. Jaz

SIXTEEN

TOR: Is it too soon to say I miss you already?

ME: No, not at all. I miss you too.

TOR: We’re about to take off. I want to FaceTime, but Devan is in the seat next to me and he will totally fanboy at the sight of you.

I laugh in my desk chair, visualizing big ass Devan climbing all over Tor to get to the phone to talk to me.

ME: Tell him I will sign his books for him, if he plays well.

TOR: He just stood in the middle of the aisle and did a celebratory dance with his e-reader in his hand.

ME: I need a pic.

TOR: Coach just yelled at him to sit the fuck down. LOL. Sorry, Supernova. Next time.

ME: *crying face emoji*

TOR: Gotta go, Supernova. Going to nap, someone kept me up all night *winking face emoji*

ME: I know. I will be recovering for days.

TOR: Good. That was my intention. Seven days, baby. Seven days. Talk soon.

ME: Talk soon *kissy face emoji*

“There will be a lot of kissy face emojis in my future,” I say out loud as I drop my phone to my desk. I shift in my seat with a groan. I meant what I said to Tor, my pussy needs a minute to catch her breath. He left me with more than a constant reminder of him to keep me going for the next few days. I ache, but it’s a good ache.

I sigh. My fingers poised over the keys of my laptop. I gaze out of the window as the sun begins to set and I close my eyes. When I open them, I let my fingers fly. It’s as if a dam broke and words begin to fill the page. A paragraph turns into a page, a page into a chapter, then another, and another until I flip my phone over and realize I’ve been typing for hours. I haven’t written like this in months. I’m so excited about what I’ve accomplished that I want to call Julia. But I don’t, because she believes I was well and truly into my manuscript by now.

So, by the light of my desk lamp and expecting a call from Tor soon, I reread what I wrote and pause. I don’t think people really believe a writer when they say characters have a mind of their own. When we say our fingers dance along the keys and we get so lost in the words, having no idea what we”ve written until we go back and check. It is a strange phenomenon, but it’s true. It’s with this realization that I highlight every word, seven whole chapters and let my finger hover over the delete button.

Everything I’ve written, every exchange, every moment is about us. Tor and me. Yes, the names have changed. Evan and Raven, a hockey player and a writer, but the plotline is all us. Apparently my subconscious wants to tell the story of us, but I don’t know if our story is one to be shared. My finger moves and I pause. Julia said to write what I know, but surely this is something worth sharing. No one has to know this book is my truth, or close to it. A few embellishments, a plot twist here and there, and no one would be the wiser. I would know, though. But most importantly, Tor would know.

“It’s just a story,” I whisper. I know how Tor feels about his private life, will this be a hard no? Will he think I betrayed his trust? If I tell him, will he tell me to delete what I wrote? With my chapters due in a few hours to Julia, I don’t think I can do it. Is it better to do and ask for forgiveness later. Surely he will understand, right?

With my decision made, I slam the laptop shut and stand, needing to leave my office. I am going to take this leap of faith and go for it. Truly, our story can be a source of inspiration for years to come. Of course no one will know. But maybe, years down the line, I will be asked, “Miss Starr, what was your motivation behind For Pucking Keeps.” I will be able to give them an honest answer. I can hold Tor’s hand as he sits beside me, look them straight in the eye and say, “I lived it.”

I’m trying not to let guilt get to me, but it’s there underneath the surface.

I close my cave door behind me as the phone rings. Tor’s name pops up on my phone screen and I smile.

“It’s just a story,” I tell myself as his face appears on the screen. I convince myself that our story is a story worthy of being told. It’s authentic and emotionally real and has the potential for greatness.

“Hey, Supernova. How did the writing go?” he asks as he shows me his hotel room. Panning the camera around, I see Devan with his nose in his kindle. Who knows what he’s reading now? I’ve created a monster. He sits up and waves.

“Don’t you worry Jaz, I will keep your boy here good and entertained. We can start an away game book club.” He pauses, tapping his kindle to his chin. “This idea has merit.”

A pillow flies into view hitting Devan in the head with a muffled thump. “Hey!” he shouts, making the others laugh.

Ridley pulls the camera toward him and smiles. “I had my reservations, Jaz, I didn’t think he would come around, but he’s been smiling like an idiot the entire plane ride.”

The camera moves again and Bast sits across the room on a large sofa in the suite the four of them are in and waves. “Yes, he is going to be insufferable, I’m sure. Welcome to our little hockey family, Jaz.”

I can hear Ridley, Devan, and Bast’s continued laughter and chatter in the background, but Tor’s handsome face is all I see. I bask in it. This is what life will be like from now on. I get to experience this extraordinary life along with him. I blow out a breath, remembering what he asked me moments ago and I leap into something new, scary, but new all the same.

I swallow, hiding my truth from him. “Perfect.”