Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
AIDAN
NerdGirl
We need to come to an agreement about something important . . .
I have to travel with the team for the New York game because AJ thinks I can “keep Renaud in line.” I’m not your goddamn babysitter, so could you please agree to behave yourself on this trip so I don’t have to travel to the next away game?
Aidan
If I do fight, does that mean you’ll come on all our road trips?
NerdGirl
I don’t have time for these games, Aidan. I have my own life and a business I’m trying to run.
Aidan
Let’s just hope I don’t play better with you there, or AJ will be REALLY determined to have you keep traveling with us.
NerdGirl
Don’t you dare suggest that! This is all because you got it in her head that I’m a good influence on you.
Aidan
Maybe you ARE a good influence on me.
NerdGirl
Grow up and be a good influence on yourself.
Ilaugh to myself as I sit on the plane, waiting for everyone to finish boarding, and read through our text messages from Sunday.
I remember the way my dick jumped at the idea of whatever “agreement” she might be proposing, and the letdown when I realized that she was basically just asking me to act like a fucking grown-up.
Now that I know fighting makes it more likely she’ll travel with us, I’m tempted to keep doing it just to keep her around more.
But as much as I like to rile her up because she’s cute when she gets feisty, I don’t want to take a step backward in our friendship.
I also don’t need to be pissing AJ off by fighting, so, as tempting as it may be, it’s not a road I can go down.
“Who’s NerdGirl?” McCabe’s voice surprises me, even though he’s sitting right next to me.
I glance over at him as I turn my phone screen off. “No one.”
His gaze moves to the open door of the plane, a few rows in front of our seats, where Morgan’s boarding the aircraft.
She’s looking down with a small smile as she reads whatever’s on her phone.
Her other hand holds the Nerds Gummy Clusters I dropped into her bag with an “I’m sorry” note as I boarded the plane, and she’s currently tapping them against her shoulder as she chews on her lip like she’s deep in thought.
Her thumb flies over the screen as she stands there, waiting to make the turn toward the front of the plane where she’ll sit with the other staff members.
I glance over at McCabe and watch him notice the pink packaging of Morgan’s candy, then back at my phone when it buzzes in my hand.
NerdGirl
I appreciate the candy. I would appreciate it more if you could stop fighting so I don’t have to do this again.
McCabe clears his throat, then with his gravelly voice barely audible, he tells me, “I gave AJ a nickname in my Contacts at one point. Didn’t do it because there was nothing going on.”
Fuck. I shouldn’t have had that text thread open on the plane. It’s a recipe for getting caught, and I’m normally smarter than that.
“Giving her a nickname doesn’t mean anything.”
“Hmmm.” The sound rattles around in his throat. “I’m going to tell you what I’d tell anyone in this situation. She’s your agent’s daughter and she works for the team. Don’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”
“That’s exactly what I would have told you about our boss if I had been here last season.”
I don’t know what possesses me to compare the two situations. What Morgan and I had in Bermuda was casual, and nothing’s happened since. McCabe’s already made it clear that AJ is his endgame. The two situations are not even in the same ballpark.
“You’re serious about her, then?”
I scoff. “I’m not serious about anyone. I just gave her some candy to apologize that she has to travel with us.”
His brows dip. “She’s traveling with us because of you?”
Oh shit, I shouldn’t have assumed he knew. “AJ didn’t tell you?”
He keeps his voice low. “Why would she tell me something that’s going on with another player?”
“She thinks Morgan’s a good influence on me, because the other night when I got in that fight, I stopped when she asked me to.”
McCabe’s chuckle lasts longer than I’d expect. “Maybe you should change her contact name to Nanny, then?”
Ithought I’d like having Morgan here in New York with us, but I was wrong.
Watching her talk to my teammates, and seeing how close she is to them, does nothing but light my jealousy on fire until it’s a burning pit in my stomach.
Maybe I need to talk to AJ, insist that Morgan’s presence isn’t necessary, and beg my boss to send her home?
Of course, then she’d ask me why, and I haven’t been able to think of a good reason.
I’ve been sitting here at the bar nursing a single beer for the last hour, watching her laughing with Drew and Colt, and trying hard not to glower in their direction.
It almost feels like they’ve already caught on and are being extra friendly with her just to piss me off.
I ask the bartender to close out my tab and head over to tell my friends I’m leaving. Coach wants us in our rooms by ten o’clock the night before games anyway, so it’s not like I’m heading back early enough that it’s going to raise eyebrows.
“Hey guys, I’m going to walk back to the hotel. See you at morning skate tomorrow.”
“I’ll head back with you,” Morgan says. “I have some work I need to finish up anyway.”
After we’ve made our way outside, I turn toward her. “You afraid I can’t make it back to the hotel without getting in a fight?”
She starts walking so I fall into step beside her. “I’d better make sure, since that’s the whole reason I’m here.”
I shove my hands in my pockets as we walk so I can fight the temptation to wrap my arm around her waist and hold her close to me as we navigate the New York City sidewalks. At least this late on a weeknight, it’s not super crowded.
“How’s your face feeling?” I ask. She ended up with a nasty bruise on her cheekbone, but luckily not a black eye. She’s covered it with makeup so it’s not very noticeable.
“Not as good as it felt before I got elbowed. How’s your hand?”
My knuckles are bruised and they still ache. “It’s fine. Listen, I’m sorry that you ended up having to travel with us when you didn’t want to. I’ll be on my best behavior this trip so it doesn’t happen again.”
“I think you need to extend that promise to the whole season, not just this trip. AJ wants to keep you on the team, Aidan. You just have to stop giving her reasons not to.”
“Did she say that?” My curiosity is piqued. “Or did your dad tell you that?”
She swallows. “My dad never talks to me about contract negotiations, but it’s possible AJ may have said something that led me to draw that conclusion.” We walk in silence for a minute, before she says, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Should the fact that you’re asking permission make me worried?”
“I don’t think so. I just keep wondering why you virtually disappeared last year?
I know you were on IR and it’s not uncommon in a long-term situation like that for players to return home to complete their PT and recovery.
But you were less than an hour outside of Boston.
Why didn’t you stay in touch with your teammates, or come to any games or anything? ”
On the surface, it’s an innocent enough question. And it’s certainly the one on everyone’s mind. But it picks at old wounds in a way she can’t possibly understand . . . unless I tell her.
We stop at an intersection, waiting for the light to change, and I mull over how to respond.
I like that she doesn’t press me for an answer as we stand there.
It makes her that much easier to talk to, and it occurs to me that I haven’t had anyone I could talk to about things like this since Hayley.
That should put me on edge, because I almost lost my first NHL contract thanks to that breakup, but somehow it doesn’t. It just makes me want to keep talking.
Once we’re crossing the street, I say, “Last year was one of the most difficult years of my life. I was in constant pain after each surgery because I refused to take any of the hardcore painkillers, given what happened with my dad. I couldn’t play the sport I’d devoted my entire life to, and had to watch my teammates live out my dream instead. I just . . . wasn’t in a good place.”
“I get that,” she says, and although I feel like anyone else would follow it up with a but, she doesn’t.
“I wasn’t trying to be a bad friend or teammate. I was barely holding my own shit together, and I didn’t have the capacity to be there for anyone else. And then when I was finally feeling more myself, my best friend’s wife died and I had to be there for him and his son.”
I glance at her when she doesn’t respond. She nods, chews on her lower lip, then says, “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. I bet your teammates would like to know . . . especially the ones you’re close to.”
“I don’t really know how to do this whole talking about my feelings thing.”
“The thing is . . . the more you do it, the easier it becomes.” She turns toward the entrance to the hotel and we walk through the doors into the lobby without talking. I’m still mulling over her words, and she’s good at giving me space to think.
“Are you letting your beard grow back in?” she asks when we stop in front of the bank of elevators. It’s short and neatly trimmed now, and my hair’s a bit longer than it was when we met at the end of the summer. I wonder if she’d have recognized me then, if I’d looked like I do now?
“I normally do, during the season. But I can keep it short if you prefer.”
She coughs out a laugh as we stand there waiting. “My opinion shouldn’t matter any more than anyone else’s who you work with.”
“But it does,” I say, turning to look down at her where she stands next to me.
“Don’t do that.” She reaches out and pushes the elevator button again, like that might make it arrive sooner.
“Don’t do what?” As if I don’t know what she means.
“Don’t treat our friendship any differently than any other friendship.”
I shouldn’t be trying to make space for her in my life. I shouldn’t be thinking about her nonstop. I shouldn’t be craving her company. But I do.
Pursuing her might be my most reckless idea yet—it could lose me my agent, and piss off my GM—but somehow I’m no longer sure I care.
We step into the elevator when the doors open, and as soon as we’ve tapped the numbers for our floors and the doors close, I admit, “I don’t really have any female friends, so I’m not sure how to act.”
“You have no female friends?”
I shrug. “Not really.” How do I admit that every woman in my life is either dating or married to one of my friends, or trying to sleep with me?
“Sounds like a big red flag to me,” she tilts her chin up like she’s challenging me to prove her wrong. But she’s not wrong, necessarily.
I step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at me. “I think red might be a great color on you.”
“Stop pursuing me, Aidan.” She’s so close that her breath warms my face.
“Stop giving me reasons to, Morgan.”
Her chest heaves with a surprised gasp. “I most definitely have not given you reasons.”
But we both know that’s not true. Our bodies have an inexplicable pull toward each other, even though we both know this is a bad idea.
“So the way you were just looking at me, leaning in like you wanted me to kiss you . . . that’s how you look at all your friends?”
Her breathing is heavy, and she doesn’t step away.
I’d like to say the sexy off-the-shoulder sweater she wore tonight is what’s been driving me crazy, but that’s not it.
It’s the way I can’t see her freckles through her makeup, and every time I try to remember what they look like, visions of us together in Bermuda flash through my mind.
Hell, those memories are always in my mind, driving me crazy.
“You know,” I say, when she doesn’t respond, “we have a great track record in hotels. We could keep our streak going.”
She crosses her arms and shakes her head as she steps back. “I don’t know how to do the whole casual thing . . .”
“The thing is . . . the more you do it, the easier it becomes.”
“Don’t use my words against me, Aidan.”
“Hey, we could be on the same team here,” I say. “We have amazing chemistry, and you could use some practice keeping things casual. I volunteer as tribute.”
My suggestion isn’t just reckless, it’s downright stupid. I could lose my agent and my career because of this woman. It’s the exact path I promised myself I’d never travel again.
“Such a noble sacrifice,” she says with an eye roll, right as the elevator dings our arrival at her floor.
“Friends with benefits would allow us to still have our friendship and reap the benefits,” I blurt out as the doors open. It’s the desperate need to be around her that makes me suggest this, not the fact that it’s a good idea. In fact, friends with benefits is probably the worst idea I’ve ever had.
At least I can rely on her being logical about this and rejecting me, so I can get back on the path where I’m focusing on nothing but hockey this season.
My breath hitches when she freezes, one foot in the hallway. The fact that she doesn’t turn and roll her eyes over her shoulder as she walks away has me panicking a bit.
Finally, she glances over her shoulder at me then and huffs out a small laugh. “You know what, I’ll think about it.”
My head falls back against the wall of the elevator the minute she’s out of sight, and as the doors close, I groan out, “Fuuuuuuuck.”