Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
CALLUM
- P resent Day -
“Nice one, Davies!”
“Hell yeah, Newbie!”
We’re just wrapping our final practice before another stretch of away games, and I hate to say this, but Davies is on fire.
Every shot sent his way was stopped in its tracks, which isn’t altogether surprising.
But it was the way in which he managed to block everything, his movements precise and graceful, almost as if he were performing an intricate dance, that made it hard for me to look away.
It’s a damn distraction is what it is, one that I absolutely do not need.
He skates over to the bench, yanking off his helmet and reaching over for a drink.
I watch, entranced as a bead of sweat drips down his face, following the path down to where his throat works as he swallows large gulps of water.
Images from the other night flash through my mind, my thoughts drift to what it would look like watching his throat work swallowing something.
. . bigger . . . and I shift uncomfortably, quickly tearing my gaze away.
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you? Get your shit together, Robinson.
One night together, not even “together” together – it was with Sutton - and you’re acting like you’ve never kissed a man before. Jesus.
I skate in the direction of the locker room, determined not to make an ass of myself.
After all the tension between us, I don’t need him thinking I’m infatuated or anything.
I’m not. The guy is a total douche. Besides, it was just one goddamn night.
It’s not as if I’ve never had a threesome before.
Never mind the fact that this was with the girl that’s haunted my dreams for years, and the one teammate I can’t stand.
I need to move past this. A shoulder crashes into me from behind, and I stumble forward, barely catching myself as Jonah pushes past me before he heads toward the locker room.
“Hey! Watch it!”
He turns, and I glare in his direction.
“What the hell, Davies?” I’m conscious of the fact that we still have teammates all around us, so I have to be careful with what I say.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he glowers back at me. “You tell me.”
“What?”
I can see the disdain written all over his face before he turns away, muttering under his breath as he walks off the ice, “That’s what I thought. Asshole.”
Throwing my towel in the dirty bin, I nod at a few guys in passing as they head out of the locker room.
We had an early morning practice today, and now we have a few hours of downtime before we have to fly out for our series of away games.
Most of the guys are probably headed home to finish up their packing and pre-game rituals.
Say what you want about us hockey players, but we are a superstitious bunch. We know it, we just don’t care.
I look around, hoping to find Davies before he leaves, to try and figure out what the hell his problem is, but there’s no sign of him.
Damn. With a sigh, I pull my phone out of my pocket to try calling Sutton and realize belatedly that I never got her number.
Taking a chance, I dial her old one and hold my breath.
. .it rings once, twice. . . and then the automated message kicks in.
“We’re sorry, your number cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again.”
My hand shakes as I run it through my hair, thoughts racing.
I could try going over there, but would she even want to see me after the other night?
After I left? She knows where to find me, my number never changed, but she’s made no attempt to reach me at all; didn’t even show up to last night’s game.
Disappointment settles over me like a lead apron. Well, shit.