16. Bella
Chapter 16
Bella
I gaze up at the night sky, sparkling with a million stars.
I glance over at Braden lying next to me on the roof of his car. He’s staring up, his soft blue eyes focused, a gentle smile on his face.
My tummy flips. He’s been amazing this whole night, doting on me and taking care of me and listening intently while I vented about my ex.
I think about that look in Braden’s eyes. That focused, intense look. He wasn’t just half-heartedly paying attention, like so many other people would.
He actually listened to everything I said. He cared about my pain. He validated my feelings and comforted me.
I think about how he said I was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
Tingles flash across my body.
At first, I thought he was just being nice. But he was telling the truth. I could tell by the way he looked at me and the tone of his voice. He meant it.
Those tingles turn into a hot flash. It’s probably silly just how much it means to hear him say that. But it’s the truth. Braden is insanely handsome. And a hockey star. A million hockey fans would give anything to spend time with him.
And this hockey hunk is lying on the roof of his car with me in the middle of the night because I wanted to go stargazing.
He thinks I’m beautiful. He thinks I’m out of my ex’s league.
This feeling and this time with Braden are what I want—what I need. And he always seems to know exactly what I need.
“I didn’t think you could see this many stars in the night sky just outside of Denver,” he says. “I figured there would be too much light pollution.”
“This spot is the best.”
We’re pulled on the side of the highway, ten minutes from Red Rocks Amphitheater. Red Rocks is a pretty popular star gazing spot, but it’s always so crowded, so I started coming to this spot years ago whenever I wanted an epic view of the stars.
Braden twists to look at me. “How’d you find this place?”
“I was bored in high school and had just gotten my license. My friends and I would drive around and try to find cool outdoor spots to hang out away from all the tourists. We were really into hiking and camping and stargazing. We were so pumped when we found this place.”
The corner of his mouth hooks up. “You and your high school friends sound pretty cool.”
I laugh. “We were dorks.”
“No way. You were definitely prom queen, pretty girl.”
I roll my eyes and laugh, despite the flip in my tummy. “I was a prom queen nominee. I lost the final vote.”
He grins. “I knew it.”
“And what were you? Captain of the hockey team?”
“Goalies can’t be captain.”
“Oh, right.”
He clears his throat. “Hockey was pretty much my life in high school.”
I notice the lightness in his eyes dims the slightest bit.
“But you loved it, right? Just like you do now?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer at first. He blinks, and a faraway look appears in his gaze. “Yeah. I did love it. I still love it. There are parts that I don’t like though.”
“Of course. Everything has its downsides,” I say gently.
“That’s definitely true with professional hockey.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Especially when you have a hockey coach for a dad.”
I shift on my side so that I’m facing him now. “Your dad is a hockey coach?”
“Yeah, he coached me in college.”
“What was that like?”
He lets out a sad-sounding chuckle. “It sucked. He was pretty hard on me.”
“Oh…” I think back to when we were eating banana splits in his car earlier. He mentioned that his dad would take him out for banana splits after hockey games when he was little. It sounded so cute and wholesome. I figured his dad was a sweet guy.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a moment. “That must have been so hard, to be treated that way by your dad.”
“Yeah. He’s a perfectionist. And a hardass. He wasn’t always like that though.”
Braden looks up at the sky again. “When I was little, it was a different story. He was fun and joked around a lot. But then I started getting noticed by coaches and scouts when I played hockey in high school. And that’s when everything changed. It was like a switch flipped. He went from fun-loving dad to unrelenting hockey coach. I hated it. It was like he saw the potential I had to go pro and channeled all his energy into making that happen.”
He clears his throat and is quiet for a long moment. “I mean, part of me understands. Hockey was his life. He used to play when he was younger, but he never made it pro. Of course he’d want his kid to be a professional hockey player, to carry on his dream. But he took it to the next level.”
“What did he do?” I ask as gently as I can. I don’t want him to feel like I’m pushing him to talk. But I want to support him if he wants to open up, just like he did for me earlier tonight when I told him about my ex.
Braden huffs out a breath. “He always rode my ass. Always wanted me to be better, faster, stronger. No matter how well I played, it was never good enough. He always pointed out what I could do better. From a coaching standpoint, it made sense. I was a top player in high school and college, but I wasn’t a superstar. I was good enough to get recruited and play in college. I was good enough to get drafted into the pros. But I had to work my ass off for it. Some guys have phenomenal natural talent. I don’t. I’m someone who’s a solid player when I train hard. But I’m nothing amazing. I mean, I was drafted in the last round. I wasn’t a lucrative prospect.”
“Braden.” I grab his hand in mine. He glances down at our joined hands for a second before looking up at me. “Don’t downplay yourself like that. You’re an incredible goalie. One of the best in the league.”
“I was incredible. I’m not this season.”
A hard look flashes in his whisper-blue eyes. It makes my chest ache.
“You kicked ass tonight,” I say .
“After a string of shitty performances.”
“Braden, it’s the start of the season. You can’t expect to be perfect every single time you play.”
“Not perfect, but I need to be really fucking close to it if I want to keep playing for my team.”
I stare at him, blown away by the curtness of his responses. It’s like he has them loaded up and ready to go.
No one should talk about themselves in such a negative way. Unless they were conditioned to do it.
I think about what Braden said about his dad. How he said his dad never thought he was good enough. How he always pointed out his flaws.
“Did your dad say this kind of stuff to you?” I ask.
This throat bobs as he swallows. “When I got drafted into the pros, his first words to me were, ‘You’re not good enough. Not even close,’” he says in a detached tone.
My mouth falls open out of sheer shock. What kind of father would say that to his son? Most dads would be thrilled to see their kid grow up and become a professional athlete. Instead of celebrating that special moment with him, Braden’s dad chose to tear him down.
Emotion rushes through me. I gently cradle his face in my hands and scoot closer to him. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “A dad should never, ever say that to his son.”
Recognition flashes in his gaze, like he’s just now realizing that.
He blinks and his hand falls on my hip. He grips me tight. Like he needs to feel me right now. Like he needs to be close to me.
I focus on the look in his eyes. That detached sadness lingers. It makes my heart ache seeing him like this.
The need to comfort him, to make him feel better, to feel close to him surges through me .
I lean up and press a kiss to his forehead.
He lets out a soft hum. I feel his body relax underneath my touch.
Still holding his face in my hands, I lean back and look at him. That sadness in his eyes has faded. His gaze drops to my mouth at the same second that he pulls me against him.
I gasp softly. We’re going to kiss.
I know we shouldn’t. Because the second we do, I’m going to break my “just this once” rule, rip his clothes off, and have my way with him.
My brain is telling me to stop, to stop touching him…but my body is in control…
I hover my lips over Braden’s mouth, hungry for his lips and his tongue.
I touch my lips to his. And then I hear someone yelp.
We break apart, and I sit up. Braden does too.
“Did you hear that?” I glance around at the darkness, wondering where that sound came from.
“Yeah, what the…” Braden’s voice trails off when I hold up a hand, shushing him.
I hear a softer yelp this time. It sounds more like a cry.
“It sounds like someone’s crying,” I whisper.
He slides off the roof of his SUV and helps me down.
He’s frowning as he peers around in the darkness, walking away from the car. A second later, he blurts, “Oh shit.”
Then he runs off into the darkness.
“Braden, don’t just run off!” My heart pounds seeing him disappear.
But a second later, he comes back, cradling a puppy in his arms.
“Oh my god.” I walk up to him .
The floppy-eared puppy is covered in dirt and is shivering. It makes a sad whimpering noise, then starts to cry.
I gently pet its head. “Poor thing.”
“It was stumbling around in the dark,” Braden says. “I can’t tell if it’s abandoned or lost.”
I shake my head, upset. “I’d bet anything it’s abandoned. People dump their unwanted pets outside of the city sometimes.”
Braden looks striken. “That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “We can’t just leave it here.”
Braden is shaking his head even before I finish talking. “No way. We’re taking him home with us.”