Chapter 25
25
RONAN
A fter a series of road games, it’s good to be back home. Win or lose, away games always seem to kick my ass, and this time was no different.I’m feeling a little drained, I can’t lie.
At least this time, the Saints managed to sneak away with a couple decent wins—three of our four games. So at the end of the day, it doesn’t feel like the whole trip was a wash.
In any case, here I am at the crack of dawn, outside practicing on my ice rink.
Trying to get better.
Trying to make up for every missed shot.
Trying to improve my every play, so that the sports commentators don’t call me a goddamned pigeon.
In my periphery, I see that the downstairs lamp flicks on at the guesthouse. But I refuse to even glance in that direction. I choose to stay focused.
Things are even worse between Nicky and me lately. No surprise after everything that went down that night in her hotel room.
Despite everything, she hasn’t quit her job. She’s been at every game. She travels along with the team, tagging along on the flights. On the team bus.
But we’ve rarely had a moment alone, and she seems content to stay in the shadows. Hanging with members of the team’s support staff. Vigilantly keeping an eye on me, but always from a distance.
I’m so fucking frustrated. At first, this whole ordeal was amusing. A pretty girl hanging around me twenty-four seven? Sounded like a treat.
But now being viewed like I’m a petulant child who can’t look out for myself? It’s not quite so much fun anymore.
Especially when I just want her to see me as a man . A man that she’d consider. A man that she’d be interested in. But as of right now, we’re so far from that possibility.
In any case, I know boundaries are important to Nicky, and I’m trying— more like struggling —to respect that.
I’m on the ice, working on my slapshot when out of the corner of my eye, I see Nicky struggling to pull her favorite armchair right up to the large picture window. I pause and look her way in time to see her curling up in the chair with a book.
A grin teases my mouth.
For some reason, having Nicky close by makes me feel good.Maybe she’s not completely repulsed by the sight of me.
I haven't asked her to come outside on her days off again, not since that day when I beat down her door and all but forced her to go to breakfast with me. Asking her to do that feels like overkill, and to be frank, sort of a jackass move for me to pull her out of the warm house so ungodly early, for no good reason.
I’m not that mean.
I quickly give up the shooting practice in favor of focusing on my speed skating. I bask in the cold air on my face as I skate across the ice. I breathe in deeply, loving that icy burn in my lungs.
Knowing Nicky’s watching while I practice gives me a sense of motivation that pushes me to work even harder. It makes me train harder. Faster.
At some point during my session, she disappears from her window-front seat though. My chest falls with disappointment. But it doesn’t take long before she’s back in her armchair again. This time, taking sips from the big ceramic cup in her hands. And just like that, the world is spinning on its axis again.
Shit—my world really does revolve around that woman these days. It’s kind of tragic. Because she doesn’t want the things I want. She doesn’t want me in the way I want her.
When I’ve pushed myself past my limits and hung up my gear in the shed, I’m ready to head back to the main house. I take the path that passes by the cabin.
I peer through the window, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. I meet her eyes through the glass. My heart twirls around like an itty bitty drunk ballerina. I wave.
She lifts her hand, giving me a hesitant wave back.
Shit. The rift between us is real.
I really fucked everything up. It’s what I always do, right?
I went too far inside that hotel room in New Jersey. Making her wrap her legs around my head and explode on my tongue with my name on her lips? That was one thing. But suggesting that we make a habit of it? That we make a practice out of it? I should have known she wouldn’t go for that.
It’s painfully obvious that Nicky wants me—sexually, I mean—maybe even as much as I want her. But the woman is stubborn and determined not to like me. I know that. So I should have known better than to make her that offer to be her practice boyfriend. Even though I know that it would be so. much. fun .
Nicky can be a persnickety little character. She spooks easily. Especially whenever things start going well between us. I’ve got to tread carefully with her.
With a forlorn nod goodbye, I turn up the path toward my house. Then behind me, I hear a door slam and quick footsteps running out to meet me.
I turn over my shoulder to find Nicky wrapped up in a blanket and slippers frantically chasing across the snow-covered yard behind me.
“Hey,” she calls out.
Is something wrong? Is there an emergency?
Alarmed, I take a few hurried steps to meet her. “Hey.”
But then her hand peeks out from beneath her blanket-cape. “I, uh…I wasn’t sure if you like hot chocolate.”
I blink down at the insulated travel mug she holds out to me. “Hot chocolate?”
“Yeah,” she replies, wrapping her blanket tighter with her other hand. “And I accidentally made an extra breakfast sandwich. I didn’t know if you’d want it.”
Accidentally? How do you accidentally make an extra sandwich?
I can’t help the way my eyebrows shoot up. I hardly understand what’s happening here.
Nicky doesn’t offer an explanation. She just stands there, blushing.
I feel a smile slowly curving across my face. “Yes, actually.” Damn. That sandwich she made the last time was so good.
Peeking at me from under her lashes, she places the cup and the foil packet into my hands. The way my dick tingles when our hands brush is downright embarrassing. The center of my chest tingles, too.
She totally wants me.
I take the breakfast offering from her. “Thanks.” My smile widens. Centimeter by centimeter by centimeter.
Nicky’s blush only grows brighter. It’s fluorescent pink now. “ What ?”
“Nothing.” I whip my head left to right, trying to shake my smile loose.
“Stop that,” she scolds me, getting all defensive. “This means nothing. Making sure you don’t starve to death on my watch is part of my job description.”
I nod agreeably even though I keep grinning. “Of course it is.”
“Look, I need to go. It’s freezing.” She stomps a foot, and I get a feeling she’s more angry with herself than with me.
“Yeah. Go get warmed up.” I bite on my bottom lip. I don’t want her to think my smile is mocking her.
In a snit, she turns back to the cabin.
Her movements are a little shaky, if you ask me, and when she slips on the ice, I call out, ready to swoop in to the rescue. “Hey. Do you need some hel—?”
“Don’t!” she shouts, one hand shooting out in my direction.
Chuckling to myself, I stand and watch, making sure she gets up the steps safely.
As she’s pushing the door open, I call her name. “Nicky?”
She peers at me over her shoulder. “What?”
“Thank you.” I hold up my breakfast in illustration.
Her shoulders fall, that armor of hers crumbling around her feet when our eyes hold. “Yeah.”
Then she disappears inside the house.