Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHELSEY
“Coach Dunn, how are you feeling about the team’s chances of winning against Boston and entering the playoffs?” Patrick, who was conducting interviews before that night’s game, asked.
Coach Dunn scowled at the camera. “You should know better than to ask a superstitious hockey player about their odds of winning ahead of time. I thought we agreed there wouldn’t be any of that sort of nonsense in this documentary.”
Patrick looked chagrined. “Sorry, Coach. Let me rephrase: Do you feel the team has been strong in training?”
Coach Dunn allowed this even though I doubted he liked it much better than the first question. “The team is in good shape, and they’re playing well together.”
I had to agree with that. I’d been watching their games religiously and keeping an eye on their training sessions through the office window. They were working hard and they’d come a long way. I suspected that most of them were nervous ahead of tonight. I knew that Matt was.
“I need to get to the team,” Coach Dunn said and Max hit a button to stop the camera.
We were in front of the rink at the TD Garden arena in Boston and the documentary crew had taken advantage of a brief lull while the teams were preparing to grab Coach for an interview.
They’d already spoken to any players they were interested in getting personal comments from a couple of days ago so as not to psych them out so close to the beginning of the game.
Perhaps the same should have been done with the coaches.
Coach Dunn nodded to us as a group and headed for the changing rooms.
“What do you think?” Patrick asked me, not bothering with the camera because I wasn’t interesting enough to officially interview. “Do you think they can pull it off?”
“I hope so.” I thought it was a strong possibility, but Boston wasn’t a team that could be discounted and I also didn’t want to jinx anyone by claiming I thought they’d win.
He chuckled. “You’re as bad as them.”
I shrugged. “I used to play.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Just casually?”
“Yeah. I’m far too clumsy for more than that. Honestly, I’m lucky as it is that I never seriously injured myself. Have you ever played?”
He grinned. “Only once or twice. I’m more the type to yell from the sidelines than to actually get in on the action.”
“Your job suits you well, then.”
“I suppose so.”
We chatted for a while longer, but when it was time for the teams to emerge, I found my seat nearby and got my camera ready.
The players filed out one by one, and as soon as my gaze landed on Matt, I couldn’t tear it away from him.
He filled out his uniform so well with those sexy, broad shoulders, long legs, and strong thighs.
He was gorgeous. And he was mine.
Except no one knew it.
He looked straight ahead as he glided onto the ice, not showing any of the nerves I knew he felt, and my heart swelled with pride.
He’d come a long way from being the son of parents without an extra penny to their name, up to their eyeballs in debt.
Against all odds, he’d reached the NHL and been named an alternate captain.
Now, if they won tonight, he’d be in the playoffs. I wished I could travel back in time and tell that stressed little boy how far he’d go.
As he passed me, I raised my camera and snapped a photo of him.
I almost wished he’d look up at me and blow a kiss, but that would be against the rules I’d set, and it was foolish to want it.
If we acknowledged our relationship, we could be in big trouble, especially after keeping it quiet for so long.
So I sat there and pretended my chest didn’t ache from being ignored, which was ridiculous when I was the one who’d insisted it be this way. He’d tried to revisit the matter after his parents had caught me at his place, but I hadn’t been ready for more yet.
That had hurt him, and I’d hated it.
When the game began, both teams came out strong. Clearly, neither intended to cede entry into the playoffs without a fight.
Jesse scored in the first period, and being a goal up only seemed to strengthen the Chaos’s resolve. They were in sync like I’d never seen them before. The game moved quickly, and if I were less familiar with the rules, I might have lost track of what was happening.
The Chaos was still in the lead at the end of the first period, but Boston scored early in the second. I didn’t see exactly what happened, but Matt ended up on the ground, and a pair of Boston forwards managed to get the puck past Davenport.
I shot to my feet, uncaring about the goal as I waited for Matt to get back up. He couldn’t be injured. He hadn’t gone down that hard, right?
The tightness in my chest eased as he clambered up more gracefully than I would’ve, dusted himself off, and returned to his position. He didn’t seem to be moving stiffly or to be favoring either leg. Thank God.
The Chaos held firm for the remainder of the period, and they entered the third with a one-all tie.
With minutes remaining on the clock, it looked as if the game might go into extra time, but then one of Boston’s players took the puck from Kelly and passed to one of their teammates as they dodged around Gauthier. The teammate slapped the puck toward Davenport, but it ricocheted off his pads.
Matt took control of the puck and sent it winging up to Harris, who put on a burst of speed and took it all the way to the opposition’s goal. He feinted a pass across the goal and then, when the goalie was distracted, slipped the puck over the line.
Kelly and Young piled onto him, each slinging an arm around his shoulders. I was pretty sure Young would have kissed him if they hadn’t been wearing helmets, and the thought made me laugh. Harris wasn’t one to appreciate gestures like that.
I looked back at Matt, who’d essentially assisted the goal. He and Gauthier were exchanging high fives.
My heart was in my throat for the remainder of the game. I crossed my fingers on both hands that the Chaos would keep their lead.
And they did.
As the final buzzer sounded, they cheered and hugged each other. Even Coach Dunn had to fend off an overeager Young when the man tried to wrap his arms around him. I didn’t realize I was screaming until I stopped, in need of a drink.
I was still buzzing when they came out of the changing rooms later, and I almost threw myself into Matt’s arms the second I saw him. It was only at the very last moment that I realized that might seem inappropriate and held myself back.
It wasn’t until hours later that I got him alone. He came to the hotel room I was supposedly sharing with Kim, but I hadn’t seen her since we’d left the stadium, so I assumed she was tied up elsewhere.
I grabbed his hand, dragged him inside, and shut the door.
“You were amazing,” I said, hugging him tightly. “Congratulations.”
He smiled down at me, his eyes warm, and kissed me. “Thank you. It was… Whoa. I was so stressed going in, but we kicked ass.”
“You deserved that win. And the pass you made to Austin?” I grinned up at him. “Fantastic.”
“I’m glad you thought so.” His smile turned naughty. “Do I get anything special as a reward for being so talented?”
I laughed. “A place in the playoffs?”
He nuzzled me and peppered my face with kisses. “Anything else?”
I melted into his arms like chocolate left in the sun too long. “Me?”
“I like the sound of that.”
His kiss was claiming and I sighed into his mouth as he held me close and ravished me with his lips and tongue, stealing both my breath and my ability to think.
I pressed closer to him, wishing he weren’t wearing a shirt.
I grabbed at the hem of his shirt and started to lift it, but he pulled back suddenly, leaving me cold and bereft.
He gazed at me, his cheeks flushed, and the blue of his eyes only a thin band around his pupils. “Wait.”
“Why?” I complained, wanting to be close to him again. I’d never felt more desired and protected than I did in his arms.
“We need to talk.”
I squeaked, and my hand flew to my mouth. Shit. Nothing good ever followed those words. “About what?”
With a grimace, he stalked away from me, getting as far as the door before turning and pacing forward again.
“It’s been a while since we started doing this”—he motioned back and forward between us—“and I hope you’ve realized in that time that I’m in this for good.”
I nodded because he had shown every indication of being committed to making our relationship work, but I felt like I was walking into a trap. I was worried about where this conversation was going.
He stood in front of me and met my eyes. “Can we make it official?”
My heart rate picked up. “You mean tell people about us?”
“Yeah.” The sides of his mouth quirked up, and his expression was so hopeful it almost hurt. “I’d like to be able to be open about our relationship. I want to introduce you to Mom and Dad as my girlfriend again and work on winning your parents over. I’m sure I’ve got some ground to make up there.”
I shook my head. “I never told them what happened.”
I’d been too embarrassed. Layla was the only one I’d been honest with.
“But they know we broke up and that you were hurt.” He moved closer and I subconsciously backed up, needing the space to think clearly. If I let him put his arms around me, I’d give him whatever he wanted because my mind would be clouded by feel-good hormones.
As it was, I already didn’t know what to say. While I hadn’t expected to have this conversation right now, I couldn’t say I hadn’t known that he’d push the matter at some point. Considering our conversation two months ago, I was a bit surprised it had taken this long.
Despite that, I didn’t have an answer prepared.
“My job…” I began weakly.
“We can do whatever paperwork we need to make it good with the team because I don’t want to cause you any problems.” His eyes burned into me. “I don’t want to make things hard for you, Chels. I just want to be with you and be able to kiss you at games and hold your hand in public.”
I dithered. It should be an easy answer, right? It should be a yes. Because why bother dating if we weren’t eventually going to turn it into something real?
But there was still a scared little voice in the back of my mind that whispered for me to be cautious. To tread carefully. Because I’d worked so hard to get to where I was, and sure, I might want to trust Matt now, but I’d trusted him once before and been hurt.
Already, his face was beginning to fall, as if my hesitation was answer enough.
“I want to be with you,” I blurted, unable to stand how sad he looked.
“I’m more confident in us now than I was when we started, but I’m scared about how this might affect my job and my future career prospects.
We’re close to the end of the season. Can’t we just wait until it’s over and my contract has ended before we say anything? ”
His shoulders dropped and he sighed heavily. He scraped his hands down his face, then nodded and gave a weary smile. “Of course. I’d never ask for more than you’re comfortable with.”
My gut twisted. I hated that his smile didn’t reach his eyes and that, as I drew him into an embrace and kissed him, there was a new sense of distance between us.
As if he were holding back to protect himself.
I couldn’t blame him for it since I was dragging my feet, but it made me worry.
Communicating more clearly was supposed to improve our relationship, but it didn’t feel like that was what was happening.
Had I just messed everything up?