Chapter 22
Twenty Two
Eloise
The day started with a crisp fall breeze and the taste of the first snow flowing behind it. There was warm coffee and bleary blinking at the lack of a sunrise because it is almost the middle of November.
And I’m trying to stop myself from smiling. It feels like I’ve missed out on so much with the last few weeks of stress and anxiety that I’m finally settling in and enjoying life. The roads are littered with red, orange and yellow leaves, and it feels like a new lease on life.
It’s fantastic.
I get to the rink early with a coffee and start getting dressed and warmed up in the gym within the rink, going for a light jog on the treadmill before people start showing up.
Saying hi to the therapists on my way back to the locker room, I run into Winnie, who has a mischievous grin, which somehow always spells trouble for me.
“What are you looking at?” she asks as she starts to slowly get ready for practice.
I shake my head. “You look entirely too pleased this morning.”
“I just like mornings.”
I snort. “Liar. You’re up to something.”
Her blue eyes go wide. “How dare you say that–?” she tries to argue, but I stare her down with a cocked eyebrow. “Fine, there’s something that I’ve just learned about, but I can’t say anything about it.”
“For fear of death?” I ask, teasing.
“Of course. She’d murder me if I said anything.”
“New girlfriend?” I ask.
She sighs, “No. The apps are meh right now. And it’s cuffing season. They’re all looking for something more than a hookup.” She rolls her eyes.
I snort. “You could do that too.“
“Absolutely not. I do not want anything to hold me back from winning this year. A partner would be catastrophic.”
I roll my eyes. “I nearly won a Walter Cup with a girlfriend.”
“But you lost to New York. So, the girlfriend thing stands.”
I laugh at her wild eyes as Brynn and Taylor shuffle in. Winnie sits up a bit straighter, and I watch her eye Taylor. “What’d she do to you? Piss in your cereal?” I whisper as Taylor looks at both of us, cheeks flushing bright pink before scuttling to get ready for the morning skate.
Winnie has the slyest of smiles on her face as she stares Taylor down more. Even Brynn’s got an eyebrow raised as she looks between the two. I shrug my shoulders when she turns her gaze to me. Taylor’s on the ice before we can even blink. Yeah, there’s something going on.
Winnie has her hands up in defence before Brynn and I can ask more. “I’m not saying a single thing.”
“Is this the thing you were talking about earlier—?”
“No,” she cuts me off. “Absolutely not.”
Brynn sighs, “Right. Meet you two on the ice.”
I nod, starting to tie up my laces on my skates. It feels like shrugging on a warm sweater, settling back into them. “I can’t wait for you to share with the class.”
Winnie snorts. “I’m taking it to my grave.”
“Comforting.”
I should be enjoying myself on the ice. It’s home.
The crisp air of the rink settles into my lungs and makes me think that this is exactly what I need.
This place has carved out a home in my heart and has made it incredibly difficult to do anything else other than appreciate my position in life.
I don’t know where I’d be if I weren’t a hockey player, and I truly think the only correct answer to that right now is depressed.
What would make my day better, and allow me to enjoy myself, is if Taylor looked at me.
She couldn’t talk to me during the morning skate, and then she was on the opposite side of the group huddle when getting our instructions from our coaches.
I tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look at me.
What’s even more irritating is that we’re playing well together, and our passes are connecting. But every time I try to talk to her, she turns away. Her cheeks are this pretty red, which has to be from the exertion of the practice.
There’s no other explanation.
Well.
No, that’s a lie. It could be that she’s embarrassed that I know what she feels like when cuddling. I loved it.
I can’t imagine not enjoying being curled up in her arms as the little spoon. But she bolted the second morning, and then as soon as we got off the plane, she bolted again.
We didn’t even catch a rideshare back to our apartments together.
So, maybe she’s embarrassed that we cuddled or that I know she enjoyed letting loose.
Or that I know so much more about her and her relationships with Rosie and Frank.
I think that would make me embarrassed if she knew more about my relationship with my ex and how little we interacted before we broke up.
But there’s something going on between her and Winnie that makes me think there’s more than just me.
“Taylor,” I call out, gliding over to her as Coach Lawson tells the attacking group of forwards where he wants them to go and what he wants them to do.
“What?” she groans, barely able to look me in the face. Her tone is more whiney than frustrated, and something about it has my stomach twisting. Does she want us to be friends still?
I feel like a fucking child, worrying if she wants to be friends.
“When Rhea goes left, she’s going to try to pass it across the ice to Isabella.
I’ll go top centre if you come in behind.
It should block them,” I point. The coaches on the bench seem to think that we know what we’re doing, which is comforting, but at the same time, they’re leaving us to see if we can work together and not kill each other.
It’s been successful so far.
And this could clinch us as line mates for the season and maybe even my entire contract with the Vortex. It would save her from unnecessary change and undue stress with having to learn new playing styles with a new teammate.
So, the fact that she’s not talking to me, that she’s actively avoiding looking in my direction, is driving me insane.
It’s like she’s actively trying to destabilize her position before her contract negotiations.
Taylor nods, eyes flashing to me, her face bright red, most likely from exertion.
I look back at Winnie, catching her eyes through her mask as I shrug.
She knows what’s going on with Taylor. Something happened last night that no one other than Winnie and Taylor are privy to, and I feel like tattling on Winnie to Brynn.
Which is even more childish than the frustration I’m feeling because of Taylor ignoring me.
I don’t have time to skate over to Winnie to chat because the whistle blows, catching me off guard.
Rhea Turner’s line—with the two new rookies Isabella Nguyen on the left and Grace Mitchell as centre—looks murderous with their precise passes and quick skating, but they’re predictable.
Rhea’s upper body telegraphs where she’s going to shoot the puck, forcing me to skate up to the centre.
But someone’s there.
The same someone I just told the plan to.
We jolt apart as quickly as we come together, and I’m scrambling to get back on my skates before Isabella takes the shot. It’s a harsh dive with my stick out to try to block the pass, but a wrist shot from her has it in the top left corner of the net.
And I crash into Winnie, who falls on top of me.
The weight of her forces the breath out of my lungs, and I’m praying I don’t crack anything as I wait for her to get up. “You good?” she asks.
“Yeah, sorry,” I groan, “Get your heavy ass pads off of me?”
She snorts, scrambling up and pushing me out of the net and away from her, allowing me to get up.
I scan my body as I get up, careful to make sure that I haven’t hurt anything from both collisions.
Lawson is on the ice and snapping at Taylor, who looks like she’s shrinking into herself, which is something I’ve never seen her do before.
My ears are ringing as I skate over to them, catching the last of Lawson reaming her out.
She blinks at him, and I can see that the words have gone in one ear and out the other. She’s too distracted to do anything else, and I’m seriously wondering what’s going on with her ability to compartmentalize.
“Sorry, Coach, that was my mistake. I told her I was going one way and then went the wrong way,” I say.
He crosses his arms with a grunt, moustache twitching and blue eyes bright against his frostbitten skin. I nudge Taylor to see if she’d even respond, but she seems to be shutting down. “Right, Taylor?”
She nods.
Fuck.
“You know, how about Taylor and I stay late tonight to practice skating with each other, to make it up to you?”
He grunts, skating back to the bench, and I turn to her, saying, “Tay, do you need a breather?”
She’s gone when I fully turn around, which is impressive.
I watch her skate to the tunnel and walk out, yanking her helmet off as she storms through.
The back of her neck has hair sticking to it with sweat, but through the strands, I can see the redness that’s settled into her skin.
Winnie skates up beside me, tapping my stick with hers. “You should go to her.”
“She’s going to be pissed at me. She hasn’t spoken to me all day.”
Winnie’s blue eyes narrow as she looks at the tunnel and me. “I think she will now. You should go.”
I shake my head. “Coach is going to kill me.”
She shrugs. “He’s going to kill you tonight during that extra skating practice with her, so you should go now. What’s the worst he can do?”
“Kill me during skating practice,” I restate. She huffs.
“You are killing me. Go make sure your partner is fine,” she whines.
“Fine,” I snap, skating towards the tunnel. Brynn is on the side watching me skate off, eyes narrowed as I head into the locker room.
Taylor’s already stripped off her skates, shin pads, hockey shorts, and her jersey, leaving her in her chest pads and gym shorts. Her hair looks messy, as though she’s been running her hands through it as she’s getting out of here.
She doesn’t look up at me when the door closes behind me.
“Taylor,” I say softly. I can see the way her body freezes for a moment before she continues to stuff things into her bag. She pulls off her chest pads and tries to shove them in as well before I reach her and place my hands on her shoulders, trying to be careful of her feet in my skates.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “I can’t do this.”
“You can’t do what?” I ask. I tip her chin up so that I can look into her eyes. Her green eyes are bright against the pink of her cheeks. “Taylor, I need you to tell me what you’re thinking because I’d love to say that we’re on the same page, but we’re definitely not.”
She looks into my eyes, and I can see the way she scans my face, hers still cradled between my hands. I rub my thumbs against her cheekbones, watching her relax slightly. “I need to try something.”
“Wh–”
I’m cut off when I feel her lips on mine.
My eyes widen, catching the way her eyes squeeze shut before closing.
My hands move from her face, one trailing down her body and the other through her hair, pulling her closer to me.
The heat of her body against mine creeps through my gear, warming me as she moans into the kiss, giving me the opportunity to thrust into her mouth.
I pull at her hair lightly, enjoying the way she pulls back slightly to gasp before diving in deeper.
Sparks fly across my eyelids as her hands wrap around me and pull me in tighter. There isn’t a chance in hell that something could break us apart right now. Her hand teases the edge of my practice jersey, slowly creeping underneath and causing goosebumps to break out against my skin.
I moan into her mouth as her fingernails dig into my skin, melting into her further.
But then it’s all gone. She’s ripped herself away, fingertips touching her now swollen bottom lip as she stares me down in her sports bra and runs out of the room with a shirt in hand, leaving me standing there wondering what just happened.
Holy shit.
I return to the ice shell-shocked.
Winnie looks pleased with herself, and Brynn, who tries to catch my eye as I skate past, has to be wondering what I did to Taylor. Coach Lawson looks up at me from his clipboard. “Taylor had an emergency,” I say woodenly. He sighs, which makes me wince before I skate off to be near the net.
Winnie’s shit-eating grin is enough for me to know that she knew what was bubbling up in Taylor.
“How was it?” she whispers.
I’m shocked the ice doesn’t melt beneath my skates with how much heat I’m radiating. My cheeks must be vermillion.
“You did this,” I point at her. “I don’t know how, but you did this.”
“I’m magic, didn’t you know?”
I roll my eyes, trying to calm the jumping pulse that thunders past my ears, remembering her lips on mine, the little whimpers she made, the sound of her gasp as she pulled me closer.
Jeez, I am in deep shit.
Now that I know what she tastes like? I’m screwed. There’s no way that I will be able to get her out of my mind. Every woman is going to be compared to her afterwards. There’s no way she’s going to try that again.
I’m resigned to the fate that I was just an experiment, and I hope that I was good enough for her to realize something important. I’d say it was good enough, but she did run out of the locker room faster than a bat out of hell.
That’s it for me.
It’s her or nothing.