Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“How’s Bryn doing?” Kovi asked, towel wrapped around his waist, fresh out of a post-practice shower.
It had been a week since the Seattle game, and since then, everything had felt…off.
On the ice, I felt as if I were going through the motions. We’d played two games since then, and we’d lost one and barely eked out a win in the other. Off the ice, I was a mess. I couldn’t stop thinking—worrying—about Bryn.
Not that I’d gotten to spend much time with her, apart from when I’d taken her to the ER. They’d run some tests but had ultimately released her. Even so, I couldn’t help but be concerned.
She might be fine physically. But she’d been distracted and distant ever since.
“She’s good. Thanks,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.
I felt like I knew nothing. Not why she’d fainted—supposedly it was stress-related. Or even why I got the feeling that she was avoiding me.
Hell, maybe it was all in my head. I’d been in three different time zones within the past five days, and I was exhausted.
From the travel, but also from the added attention in the wake of my fight with Wilson.
Talia and her team had been fielding so many requests for interviews and sponsorships and endorsements, it made my head spin.
I could only assume the increased attention was weighing on Bryn as well. Someone had leaked what was said during the fight, and the public had been swift to defend my actions, along with Kovi’s.
But when it came to Bryn, people had some strong opinions about our relationship. Both for and against. Not that it would change anything when it came to my feelings for her. But I worried about the impact on Bryn.
I saw what the media had put her through when Derek died. It felt as if they expected something from her. And it was wrong. I was scared that this incident was dragging her back to that time.
I told myself she was just busy—with work and preparing to go to the conference in Boston and to visit her sister. But it felt like there was something more going on.
“Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” Gabe said as I finished getting dressed.
“Thanks,” I said. “She’s about to leave for Boston for a week, but I’ll let you know.”
“Holmes,” one of the assistant coaches barked. “Coach wants to see you.”
I sighed, pushing off the bench, all while wondering what this was about when I really just wanted to go home and see Bryn.
I headed down the hall toward Coach’s office. Georgia was coming my direction, and I paused.
“Hey. Do you have a sec?” I asked, knowing I didn’t have long.
“Yeah. What’s up?” She grinned.
I glanced around, relieved to find the hallway empty. “Have you seen Bryn much this week?”
She lifted a shoulder. “We watched the game together the other night. And we’ve texted a few times. Why?”
“How did she seem to you?”
“Tired, maybe?” She furrowed her brow. “I know she’s looking forward to seeing her sister. Maybe a break from LA is just what the doctor ordered.”
I nodded, hoping Georgia was right. Hoping that once some of the excitement from the fight died down, everything would go back to normal.
That hope was short-lived. At least if my meeting with Coach was anything to go by. But I put his words aside and headed home. Well, to Bryn’s house. I’d been meaning to talk to her about us moving in together, but then the fight had happened, and it hadn’t felt like the right time.
I let myself in the back door using the key she’d given me. “Bryn?” I called out, frowning when Bacon and Biscuit jogged up to me, but there was no sign of Bryn.
I crouched down, scratching them behind the ears. “Hey, there. Hey, buddy.”
Bacon licked my cheek, and I chuckled. I stood and headed for the family room. “Bryn?” I called again. In the bedroom, I found her suitcase, packed and ready to go. The bathroom was empty. I frowned. “Bryn?”
“In here,” she said, and I followed the sound of her voice to the guest bedroom.
I found her in the closet, a mound of Derek’s jerseys and paraphernalia spread out on the bed. “Hey, angel.” I pulled her in for a hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “What are you working on?”
“There’s a charity auction coming up to raise awareness for SADS, and they asked if I’d donate something of Derek’s.”
“That’s generous of you.” I took a seat on the edge of the bed, one of the few spots not covered by his jerseys or other mementos from his career.
She lifted a shoulder. “Seems like the least I can do.”
One of his Dartmouth jerseys caught my eye, and I picked it up, smiling. “Oh man. This brings back memories.”
“From winning the Frozen Four?”
I nodded, setting it back down gently. “One hell of a win.”
“That it was,” she said with a wistful smile.
“Are you sure you’re okay with parting with some of his things?” I asked, knowing it couldn’t be easy.
“It’s for a good cause,” was all she said in reply. She went back to the closet, returning the Dartmouth jersey to the rod.
“Speaking of a good cause,” I said, wondering how my news would go over. “Coach called me into his office today to talk about the fight.”
She stilled, her shoulders bunching. And then she resumed sorting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “What about it?”
“Apparently, the NHL reached out to him.” When she turned to face me, I was struck by how exhausted she looked. I stood, going over to her, cupping her cheek. “Bryn, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Just tired,” she said, brushing away my concern.
“Did you follow up with your doctor?” I asked, aggravated that we still didn’t know why she’d fainted, other than a vague diagnosis of “stress.”
She glanced away, busying herself with something in the closet. “I scheduled an appointment.”
“Good.” I stepped closer, rubbing her shoulders. She moaned, closing her eyes and sinking into my touch. I guided her over to the bed, continuing to massage her tight muscles.
“That feels so good.” She tilted her head back.
“Maybe you should stay home from the conference.” I leaned forward to rasp in her ear. “Call in sick and let me take care of you.”
“While I love that idea…” She moaned again when I hit another knot of muscles. “You have a game tomorrow night.”
“Maybe I’ll call in sick too,” I said.
She laughed. “Frasier, when have you, or any of the guys, ever called in sick?”
We both knew the answer: never. Unless we were dying, we were on the ice.
“Okay, but—” I smoothed my hands down her arms. “I’ve missed you.” I pressed a kiss to her neck. And I wasn’t solely referring to physical distance. Lately, it felt as if she was pulling away from me, and I didn’t understand why.
“I’ve missed you too.” She gave me a peck. “But that’s what life during the season is like.” She shrugged, and then she stood.
Was that all this was?
I wasn’t used to having someone waiting at home for me. Someone I wanted to come home to. Even when I’d been with Sheree, it hadn’t been like this.
I ached for Bryn when we were apart. When I was on the road, I couldn’t wait to come home to her. When I was home, I couldn’t get enough of her.
“I don’t know how the guys with kids do it,” I said. It was hard enough to be away from Bryn. Let alone feeling like you were missing out on your family’s milestones.
She straightened. “I’m sure it’s not easy. On the players or their partners.”
I nodded, knowing she was right. It wasn’t easy to be on the road, to be away from her. But I could only imagine how difficult it would be to be the one at home, taking care of everything. It seemed like the perfect segue into something I’d been wanting to talk about for a while.
“So, you know how it never feels like we have enough time together?” I asked, and she nodded. “And I’m always over here when I’m not traveling.”
“Yeah.”
“I was thinking…what if we moved in together? I could sell my condo, and we could live here or find somewhere else. Whatever you want.”
She was silent for a moment that stretched on and on. And on.
Shit. I rubbed the back of my neck. Had I totally misread the situation?
“Bryn?” I finally asked, my chest tight with anticipation.
“Can I—” She cleared her throat. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course,” I said, trying not to let my disappointment show. This had seemed like a no-brainer. And I wasn’t asking her to move. Even so, her hesitation gave me pause.
“I, um—” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Frasier.” She placed her hand on my arm. “I just need some time to work through something.”
“You’ll let me know if I can help in any way, right?” I asked. I told myself to be patient, to have faith in Bryn and in our relationship. But it was difficult to sit by and do nothing, not being able to help when I knew she was hurting.
She nodded. “So what did the league have to say?” she asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.
“Apparently, they want to start a new campaign to send a clear message that locker-room talk has no place in hockey. They plan to train players and others in the league how to be upstanders—to speak up even when it feels difficult. Plus, get this, they want to draft new rules with fines attached to them.”
“Wow.” She blinked a few times. “That’s huge. They’re finally going to do something about the bro culture.” She grinned. “Good.”
“And…” I was most nervous about this next part. “They want me to be the spokesperson. Well, Kovi and me.”
She stopped and looked at me. “What did you say?”
I tried to tamp down my excitement. I didn’t want to influence her decision, though I had a difficult time imagining Bryn saying no to something like this. “I said I’d think about it, but that I needed to talk to you first.”
“Talk to me?” She tilted her head.
“Of course I’d consult you. We’re partners, and we make decisions together.”
“Right.” She nodded woodenly. “Together.”
“And this affects you, not just as my partner but because of what Wilson said. The opportunity arose out of the fight in Seattle. So there’s a good chance it—and what was said—will continue to be discussed if I take on this role.”