Chapter 44
CALLUM
It’s been an insane month going into the final stretch of the regular season. The race to make the playoffs is heating up and, as strong as we’d started, recent and unexpected losses have us fighting for a spot that should’ve been ours already.
The team has had a couple big fumbles lately and I can’t pinpoint where we’re going wrong. Losing DuPont for the rest of the season because of a torn ACL has added to the stress as we try to fill his spot.
We’ve called in a replacement from our farm team, but it’s not quite the same. Chemistry can be worked on, but we have no time for that when we’re in a make-or-break situation.
With everyone keeping a close eye on the standings over the next couple weeks leading up to conference finals, the difference between a regulation win or going into overtime could mean not advancing to the playoffs.
The boys and I leave yet again tomorrow for a stretch of games that’ll determine our fate.
Which brings us to Block on Wood tonight to blow off some steam.
Between reviewing tapes, back-to-back practices, physical conditioning, and games, I’ve had time for little else other than hockey.
Still, I manage to obsess over Alia. In quiet moments as I’m falling asleep, the first hazy seconds of my morning before I’m fully conscious, in between line changes when my hammering heart is straining for comfort, but, especially, when I return to an empty home—I miss Alia.
I stand beside an ivy-covered pony wall, nursing a beer that’s gone warm, unable to recall why I need to keep a distance from her in public.
Across the room, she leans in to hear something Marissa is saying.
I observe the graceful arc of her hand as she lifts it to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
The slow drag of her fingertips along the length of her neck has an unintentionally erotic effect on me.
My eyes home in on her delicate collarbones that wing outward above the modest neckline of the dress she’s wearing.
I try to recall if there’s a nearby coat closet I can entice her to meet me in.
For all her inexperience, Alia likes the idea of being touched in public.
Exhibitionism is not in her nature, but a controlled environment with the illusion of risk is something that gets her off.
And whatever gets her off, gets me off, too.
Especially if I can tug that neckline lower and suck her perfect tits the way I want to, maybe leave a little mark on her skin so everyone knows she’s taken. I’ve never felt so territorial over a woman before, but Alia makes me desperate to stake my claim.
“Stop staring at her before Moore sees you,” Theo growls as he steps into my line of sight.
“Out of the way, Novak.”
“Not until you stop eye-fucking her in public.”
I can’t even deny it. I take another sip of my drink as Theo moves, in time for me to see Rohan and Irsia joining her.
“Spuddy, you’ll get caught if you don’t reel yourself in.”
“Maybe I want to get caught,” I mutter, twisting my body away so I stop gawking at Alia. Resting both elbows on the ledge, I pretend to observe the crowd. Theo shifts to stand next to me.
“We’re too close to getting into the playoffs, man. Now is not a good time to stir shit up.”
“Why do you think I haven’t opened my fucking mouth?”
I’ve been tempted though. Every time I’m around Moore, I bite my tongue so I don’t say something stupid. The guilt of going behind his back has transformed into a need to admit I’m head-over-heels for his cousin.
“I’m tired of hiding how I feel.”
“Which is?”
“I like her.”
“No shit,” he snorts.
“Theo, I’m serious about her.”
My declaration sobers him up instantly.
“Did you tell her?” he asks.
I shake my head morosely. Given how little time we’ve had together, I haven’t found the right opportunity to lay it all out on the line.
I like my chances, though. Alia trusts me.
She’s shown me her vulnerabilities and let me in.
I sense no emotional distance between us despite the limited time we manage to steal for our visits.
When we do meet, I feel at peace. With or without sex, time spent with Alia is my comfort zone.
She sees beyond the image of a hockey player with a prolific history with women to the man who wants quiet dinners, long drives, sunsets on the deck, and someone to come home to. She makes me feel wanted.
All evening, we’ve exchanged covert glances and secret smiles. But it’s no longer sufficient.
I’m growing frustrated at having to pretend we’re friends when all I want is to draw her into my arms and tell the world she’s mine. To stay away from her when she’s right in front of me is absolute torture.
After years of avoiding feelings, of wanting no complication that would distract me from hockey, I’ve fallen headlong for a woman who’s completely captivated me. The idea of not being with her is like getting stabbed in the lungs.
I didn’t have her past, but her present and future? Mine.
Before Theo can question me further, our teammates join us and I find myself dragged into a conversation I’m barely interested in. I nod along as they jump from hockey to the upcoming calendar photoshoot and eventually to everyone’s plans for their summer off.
“We’re thinking of the Amalfi Coast,” Mateo tells us. “Emily’s been wanting to go on a long trip, and we need time away from all distractions to focus on us.”
Some of the men in the group murmur in agreement, like they’ve had similar discussions with their spouses as well.
“Italy is great,” one of them chimes in. “Let me know if you want me to hook you up with a place. I’ve got an uncle with a farmhouse near Ravello he rents out all summer.”
“What about you, Spuddy?”
I shrug as I sip my drink. “I’ll probably visit my folks for a bit.”
I wonder if Alia will join me. I’d love to show her my hometown.
I’m already picturing her in cute cowboy boots and denim cutoffs at the Stampede.
It’s mayhem, but fun. We could sneak a kiss or more on the Ferris wheel.
I could win her one of those overpriced stuffed animals and snuggle her under the blanket as we watch the fireworks at night.
It’s so cliché, it’s right out of a 90s romcom.
But the idea of experiencing that with Alia makes me giddy. I want everything with her.
I catch the swish of a blue dress and automatically my spine straightens. The scent of lemons and mint hits me and my eyes close instinctually as I breathe her in, trying desperately to imbibe the only part of her I can in public.
Theo nudges me, his look of disgust screaming at me for being pathetic.
Rohan grunts his hello, trailing behind his sisters like a ginormous bodyguard. Fuck, I hope he doesn’t kill me when he finds out about us. I’m only partly registering Rohan talking about his summer plans when Theo turns to Alia and asks her the same thing.
Her gaze flickers to me and for an instance, panic flashes across her face.
How. . . odd.
“Nothing’s set yet,” she replies, her soft voice nearly drowned by Rohan’s grumble.
“You say that like you’re not going to do it.”
“Do what?” The question is out before I can stop myself. Rohan’s eyes swings toward me at the same time as Alia’s.
“Nothing,” she mumbles unconvincingly.
I notice Irsia fidgeting next to her, her expression frozen. Unease slithers down my spine. What the fuck is going on?
“I wouldn’t call it nothing. It’s a big fucking deal, Aloo.”
Alia pinkens at the pride in Rohan’s tone and all I can do is stare at her. I hate that I don’t know what they’re talking about. I especially hate that it’s about Alia and I’m in the dark.
“Care to share what you know, Moore? What’s with the secrecy?” I keep my tone light but the smile on my face is tight. My foot taps in place as my nerves overtake me.
Rohan throws one arm around Alia and announces with as much of a grin as his grumpy face can handle, “Aloo’s gonna be a cricket coach.”
I release a trapped breath. The cricket club director must’ve called her.
“Congratulations, Tots,” I say, pleased for her.
Do I wish I was the first to find out? Of course.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not proud. I’m mentally planning a celebratory date.
She can dress up for me, we’ll pop some champagne, I even have a restaurant I’ve been wanting to take her to.
They have a mango tiramisu on their menu I’m certain she’ll enjoy.
“Nicely done.” Theo fist-bumps her as more well-wishes pour in. Oddly, Alia doesn’t look happy. I tip my chin up, questioning her silently. She shakes her head once, her smile nowhere close to reaching her eyes. I wonder why.
“When do you start?” Mateo questions.
“It’s not decided yet.”
“At least you’ll still be around to see us get to the playoffs before leaving for India.”
My ears ring with a whining noise that pierces through the chatter around me. My throat feels dry despite the drink I’ve been chugging. My lips struggle to form words, battling me when I open them.
“I-India?” I croak.
Alia’s eyes plead with me to understand. . . what?
“Yeah,” Rohan nods, frowning like I’m being too slow. “As the new assistant coach for the Indian women’s cricket team.”