Chapter 14
She still hasn’t texted us yet, and it’s driving me fucking insane. Although I think that is only the beginning of my problems when it comes to losing my mind over her.
I’m focused, driven, and controlled. I don’t get distracted or let myself wander off track. But she has me sprinting in the opposite direction of everything I had planned.
I’m supposed to avoid complications, stay single, play hockey, go to school, and learn everything I can about the business before taking over after two years of pro hockey.
That’s what my father and I agreed upon. That’s what I’ve always looked forward to.
But this girl, this angel who appeared in our lives, has me rethinking everything about what I might want my future to look like.
“What’s up?” Griffin skates by, tapping me with his stick. “You seem off today, more so than usual.”
Shrugging, I catch the puck he passes on my stick, dribbling it back and forth a few times before sending it over to him. “Ehh, nothing, just tired.”
He laughs, knowing damn well I’m lying, and passes the puck back to me. “Try again.”
Rolling my eyes, I catch the puck. “You remember me telling you about that girl we met at the party?”
Griffin smirks. “You mean the one you sent a mass message to the entire school about? Yeah, I think everyone heard about her. No luck?”
“Not exactly that.” My smile lifts of its own accord, but I look down, watching the puck as I tell him more.
“She met us that night, wearing her masquerade mask. But she refuses to tell us who she is. I don’t know.
Something’s off. Not about her, but I think she’s scared of someone that has to be connected with my family.
We gave her our numbers, but she still hasn’t texted or called. ”
Griffin’s quiet, drawing my attention back up. He’s grinning ear to ear.
“Oh my God. My boys are in love.” Malik skates up next to him as he continues, “Well, let’s figure it out. It can’t be that hard.”
Asher, eavesdropping, joins us. “Harder than you’d think.”
I pass the puck to Ash, who dishes it to Malik. He picks it up on his stick and tosses it into the air, catching it on the blade before repeating it and tossing it to someone else.
Coach blows the whistle, ending our little heart-to-heart, and after a short spiel, we’re setting up to scrimmage five-on-five.
I’m already dead tired, mentally and physically. I don’t know how much more I have to give today.
But I won’t show that. I usually never do. Griffin, I think, just recognized the signs. He had a real rough patch a while back and is just looking out for me.
One of the assistant coaches drops the puck for the face-off. Our team wins it. We swiftly break into the zone, moving the defenders around and tiring them out.
Ravenwell passes to Ash, who fires away right as the puck reaches him.
It soars toward the goaltender like a damn rocket, but Finny makes the stop look easy, swatting it out of the way like an annoying fly.
He smiles at Ash through the mask, egging him on. Ash laughs, shaking his head as our opponents gain possession, breaking for the other side of the ice.
They get set up and have a good attempt at scoring. One of our new guys nearly sinks a Michigan, which would’ve been sick. But our other goalie was too quick for him.
Nearly twenty minutes goes by without scoring, and during a water break, Coach announces that it’s now sudden death.
First to score wins and doesn’t have to do suis, or suicides—a conditioning drill used in a lot of different sports, designed to push the athlete to exhaustion.
The game heats up, but no one scores for another few minutes, and we are all starting to get gassed.
Scrimmage is supposed to be a fun way to end practice, and it is, but I’m fucking exhausted because this practice started over two and a half hours ago, and to be honest, I had already been tired before we got here.
My father and our assistants sent me my to-do list for this week, which is going to consist of ass-kissing a few investors and inviting them to our hockey game this weekend—something we’ve never done before.
My father has always kept our college life separate from the family, wanting us to have a real experience, but obviously, that version of him is buried somewhere no one can reach right now.
Asher gets past the defender and sinks the puck over Finny’s shoulder. We all cheer, piling in to congratulate him. The praise leaves my lips, and I can sense the muscles in my face forming a smile, but I feel none of it. I just feel blah … nothing except defeat.
“Come on. We’re going to grab lunch at Flounder’s.” Griffin bumps me, his words sounding more like an order than a suggestion.
Honestly, I just want to be alone right now. “Yeah, I don’t know, I might just head home—”
“Nope,” he cuts me off, slapping his glove on my shoulder. “We’re going to get lunch together. All of us, after Finny’s done with his punishment.”
I sigh, offering him the best smile I can. “All right, deal. Then I’m going home.”
We arrive at Flounder’s during the lunch hour. The place is pretty packed, but thankfully, we don’t have to wait too long to be seated, which is surprising, given that there’s six of us.
I order the same thing I always do—an Italian sub, foot long, with the works. It never fails me.
It’s been longer than I realize since I’ve said a word, and eventually, the guys start to notice.
“She’ll text you, man. Don’t stress about it.” Griffin shrugs it off.
Yeah, her lack of presence is weighing on me, but that’s not all. I feel like I’m starting to reach a point mentally where I’ve never been before, disappearing more and more in my mind.
It’s so goddamn confusing though because, some days, I feel normal, like myself, but then there are days like today, where I just want to stare at my ceiling and lie in bed in the dark.
I nod, and our waitress saves me from the spotlight, arriving just in time with our food.
Malik and Asher end up getting into an argument about which pro team is going to win the Cup this year—a recurring conversation that will happen multiple times throughout the season.
Griffin even gets in on it and eggs me on with a couple of disses to my favorite team.
I jump into the convo, laughing and smiling along with them and pretending that everything’s fine.
Because it is. Everything’s just fine.
I mean, what could I possibly have to complain about? My massive house is too cold and empty. My bank account has too many zeros. Our hot girlfriend won’t text or call. In the grand scheme of the world, my problems feel insignificant.
But I feel this way all the same. If my money could truly buy happiness, I’d go broke.
My phone vibrates, and my heart jumps out of my chest as I rip it from my pocket, my breathing shallow with anticipation. Asher gasps, pulling my attention for a split second. I see him smiling down at his phone, and my gaze immediately drops to mine.
My pulse skyrockets as I see a new group text, including an unknown number and Asher.
Unknown Number: Hi. It’s … Princess, the girl from the gazebo.
Asher already sends a message before I can even gather my thoughts enough to type. I instantly save her number under Princess.
Asher: How can we be sure?
Princess: *attached photo*
It’s a zoomed-in picture of her mask sitting atop the flowers we gave her.
Oh, it’s definitely her.
That’s a rude picture, Princess. Your mask is off, and we can’t even see your pretty face.
Princess: I’m sorry. Eventually, you will. You just have to be patient.
Asher: Have I told you that patience is my worst quality?
Princess: Oh, I’m well aware.
Asher: Are you? How can you be so sure?
Princess: Remember? I’m stalking you.
She seems freer in text, sassy even, and I’m so fucking obsessed.
Asher sends a laughing emoji and heart.
Asher: It’s an honor.
Now I feel left out.
Princess: Don’t. It applies to both of you. ;)
Good. Just the way we like it.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and when I look up from my phone, I find the rest of the table, aside from Asher, staring at me with bated breath.
“It’s her,” I murmur, and I swear the group breaks into cheers and applause, like I just scored the game-winning goal.
“Told you,” Griffin mutters, and I roll my eyes. “You buying or what? Since I was right.”
“Like you need to save the money,” I scoff. “But, yeah, today’s on me, boys.”
I needed this so fucking bad. Not just lunch and company, but to hear from her. It’s like the clouds have parted in my mind.
“Thank you, sir. You’re so kind, sir.” Malik mocks me, his palms together in a prayer.
“You sound like Gollum.” I laugh, handing the waitress my card when she comes back over.
Lunch can’t end soon enough, and when we finally leave, I’m champing at the bit to get home, jump into bed, and text her for the rest of the day, kicking my feet in the air like a schoolboy.
As long as she keeps responding to us or just me, I’ll be okay. I laugh to myself at the thought.
Ash and I haven’t discussed in depth the boundaries and rules with this relationship dynamic, but for the most part, it’s fallen into place on its own.
We both want her, he and I are best friends, and now we get to share her in every way. I don’t know; there’s something so special and intimate about having the same girl which I never even imagined was possible.
I’ve never felt closer to Asher, which has been a blessing with everything going on with our family. And now we both have this person who is important to us that we get to shower with affection and attention. It’s really cool and far less weird than I anticipated when this all started.
Giving us her phone number is the most access to her she’s ever given, and it’s still not enough. I need more. To hold her, kiss her, wrap my arms around her, and sleep these sorrowful, weighted feelings away.
When Asher and I pull into the wide gate at the entrance of the estate, we wave at Roy as we zoom by.
I’m racing to the front of the house to park my bike, Asher right behind me.
“Has she said anything else?” he asks me as I hop off my bike.
I immediately check my phone, hanging my helmet on the handle.
“Nope. Nothing,” I groan, shoving my phone in my pocket and striding up the thousand steps to the front door.
“Dammit,” Ash curses, catching up at my side, his leftovers in his hand. “Should we text her again?”
“There’s that patience of yours.” I laugh. “Give her space. We don’t want to scare her off right away. She just gave us her number.”
He sighs obnoxiously, walking in the front door with me. “I know. I know. It just feels like a cruel joke that she can be so close yet so far.”
“Tell me about it. Right there with you, brother,” I mutter, walking across the foyer toward the staircase.
The burst of dopamine from messaging her is flooding my system still, and I feel on top of the damn world.
“Dean, Asher,” a woman’s voice calls out, one I recognize instantly, wishing I didn’t. Adrianna. “I was wondering when you’d be home.”
“Hi,” I greet her with civil kindness as she rounds the corner from the kitchen. “How’s your day going?”
Ash stops in his tracks beside me. His voice is unwavering but emotionless. “Hi, Adrianna.”
“My boys.” She smiles, clasping her hands as my stomach drops. “I was hoping to run into you.”
Her boys?
No, I don’t fucking think so.
Asher’s hand twitches at my side, voluntary or not. I know her words are getting to him just as much as they are to me, if not more.
“How can we help you?” I ask, trying to control the situation.
“I was thinking of getting your father a gift just to say how proud I am of him. He works so hard and puts everyone in his life ahead of himself. He deserves a little treat. Do you have any ideas?” she asks, leaning against the railing.
The media training I’ve had since we were three years old comes out to play. “No, but I’m sure anything you get him will be perfect.”
Asher was less receptive to the training. “You could help him pull the stick from his ass. That would be great.”
I jab my elbow into his side as Adrianna smiles, her expression almost uncanny.
She sighs, like our lack of ideas is truly draining her. “Okay. I shall keep looking. And please let me know if you think of anything.”
“Will do,” I agree, feeling my phone vibrate in my hand. “We’ve got to go study. Have a good afternoon.”
“You guys too.” She hums before spinning on her heel and disappearing down a hallway.
The interaction leaves a weird taste in my mouth, but I dismiss it almost instantly because we’ve got another message from our princess.