21. Calvin
CALVIN
“Where the hell are we going?” Sienna asks as we head out of town. We’ve passed more sports bars that will be showing the game than I can count. I’m pretty sure she was expecting us to stop at one of them. Instead, we keep driving farther and farther away from our side of town.
“Just wait. It’ll be worth it.”
“Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?”
I can’t help but laugh. Thankfully, our driver is distracted, talking into his headphones, and is not listening to us.
“Trust me, that is the very last thing I want to do with you, darlin’.” I glance over just in time to see her cheeks flush pink.
“You need to stop saying things like that,” she says quietly.
“The truth?” I tease.
“You know what I mean,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “And anyway, why are we driving so far? You didn’t want to miss the puck drop.”
“Now you understand why I needed to get you moving?”
We only drive for a few more minutes before our driver takes the final turn that will lead us to Bills.
His bar is in the middle of nowhere, and it couldn’t be more perfect.
Only the locals know it exists. Well, the locals and us.
It was a find that Fletch stumbled across entirely by accident, and it’s a place we’ve all come out to when we’ve wanted to enjoy a game like we used to before everyone knew our faces.
Okay, so every single person in the bar knows exactly who we are, but they show a kind of respect that’s rare elsewhere. And as soon as the word gets out about us hanging out here occasionally, it’ll all change, I’m sure.
“Okay, now I’m even more convinced you’re going to kill me,” Sienna mutters, glancing around ominously at our surroundings.
I chuckle. “It’s a bar, Sienna. People would see me if I did it here. Wait there.”
“Wait? What?” she calls before I close the door and march around the car as fast and as smoothly as I can. I don’t want to think about the reason why I’m watching my team instead of being a part of them. I just want a normal night out.
A laugh bursts out of me. Who the hell am I kidding? This isn’t a normal night out. I’m on a date with a woman. That is about as far away from normal as I can get.
By the time I get around to her side of the car, Sienna has already pushed the door open, and her feet are on the ground, ready to stand.
“I said to wait,” I growl, irritated that I can’t open the door for her.
Movement in the front of the car catches my attention, but I don’t turn to look at the driver.
He can judge me all he likes for being a gentleman.
I might have left my childhood home behind in my dust, but there are some lessons my southern belle mom taught me that will stay with me until I die.
Respecting women, even if I’m just spending the night with them, is one of them.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting …”
“Well, start expecting, darlin’,” I warn as I press my hand to the small of her back and begin leading her toward the entrance. A smirk twitches at my lips when I feel her shudder at my innocent contact.
The second we step into the bar, a sense of belonging washes through me. It smells of stale beer, but to me, it’s perfect.
All eyes turn our way as we walk past the tables and booths, but while many meet my eyes, they don’t even attempt to stop me. Instead, they just nod in greeting as I guide Sienna to our hidden booth at the back of the bar.
“This place is wild,” she says once I’ve helped her out of her jacket and she’s slipped onto the bench seat, her eyes everywhere.
She isn’t wrong. It’s like a museum for ice hockey. There is memorabilia covering every inch of the place.
“How is it so quiet? If people knew about this place, there’d be a line around the block to get inside.”
“That’s a part of its charm,” I tell her, sliding a menu in her direction. “It’s hockey’s best-kept secret.”
She looks up, her eyes holding mine and a soft, relaxed smile playing on her lips, one I remember her wearing almost every second we were together that summer.
A little stab of pain radiates from my heart. How doesn’t she remember me? Sure, I look different now. But…fuck. It fucking wrecks me to think that I wasn’t as important to her as she is to me.
“Well, thank you for sharing it with me,” she says sincerely before looking back at the menu as a server saunters over.
“Good evening, sir,” our server, Hannah, says. Her tone is friendly; there’s no hint of anything untoward in it. But that doesn’t stop Sienna’s gaze snapping up to her, a scowl on her face the second the word “sir” rolls off her lips.
My own twitch in amusement.
Is she jealous?
“Hey. How’s it going?”
“Yeah, you know. Busy. Missing seeing you out there. Monroe is holding his own, though. He was a good find.”
I think of our innocent rookie who turned up for training camp at the beginning of last season looking terrified as fuck.
But from the moment he stepped on the ice, we all knew he had something.
He outshone the other rookies by a mile; hell, he was better than many of our third- and fourth-line guys.
I wasn’t surprised when Coach announced that he’d be playing on the second line.
I also knew that he’d be gunning for my spot.
I just didn’t think it would happen quite like this.
“Yeah, he’s incredible. He and Rett have good chemistry out there.”
“He’s not you, though, Killer. Don’t even think for a second that you’re being replaced.”
I smile at her, desperate to buy into her words. But just like everyone else who’s said something similar, their hope doesn’t hold any weight. My fate is firmly in our team owner’s and general manager’s hands. It’s fucking terrifying.
“Anyway, you’re not here to talk work. What can I get you to drink? Beer?”
“Please,” I say before she turns to Sienna.
“Umm…gin and tonic?” she asks with a wince, as if she’s expecting Hannah to tell her that it’s beer or nothing.
“Of course. Coming right up.”
Silence falls between us as Hannah walks away to place our order.
“Everything okay?” I ask, sinking into the bench seating.
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
I smirk at her, letting her know that I saw her reaction when Hannah teasingly called me “sir,” but she doesn’t give anything away.
Our eyes hold for a beat, but before I can think of something to say, her eyes dart to the TV.
“It’s starting,” she says, giving the game her full attention.
It takes me a couple of seconds to do the same, but eventually, I manage to force my eyes away from her, although I’m too late and miss the first puck drop after all.
The first period is fast-paced, and despite their best effort to hold us off, we go into the first intermission up 1 to 0.
The guys are barely off the ice when Hannah returns to take our food order.
She’s waited intentionally, because she’s aware that I won’t want to miss a second of the game, and while I appreciate the fuck out of it, I can’t say that I was as invested in the game as I usually would be, considering who’s sitting opposite me.
“What can I get for you guys?” she asks, notebook poised.
I look at Sienna, aware that we haven’t discussed what we’re eating. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s wings and fries always when at Bills.
“Their wings are the best in the state,” I offer as she scans the menu again.
She nods. “Then I’ll take the mixed wings and a house salad. But can I have the dressing on the side, please?”
“You got it. Wings and fries, sir?”
Sienna doesn’t react as much this time, but I don’t miss the way her shoulders tense.
“You got it. And another round of drinks, please.”
“Absolutely. The boys have totally got this tonight. My money is on 3-0 by the final whistle.”
“They’ll be more than happy with that,” I say before she disappears once again. “I’m gonna shoot to the bathroom,” I tell Sienna before slipping from the booth.
Her eyes burn into me as I hobble away, and just before I turn to the bathrooms, I look back over my shoulder, catching her red-handed.
Her eyes widen at the same time her mouth drops open.
I hold her eyes for a beat, letting her see exactly what I want before continuing forward, no doubt leaving her thinking about me.
I make quick work of doing my business and getting back out there, and when I walk toward the table, I find Sienna is tapping away on her cell.
“Messaging Bea to let her know you’re alive?” I tease as I rejoin her.
“Uh…” she starts, placing her cell screen-down on the table, “No, actually. I’m…tracking my calories.”
“Fair enough. It’s probably for the best that you don’t ask how much sugar is in some of the sauces,” I advise.
Sienna grimaces.
As a professional athlete, I’m no stranger to tracking what I eat, making sure I hit all my macros daily. I’m sure it’s something many women do, but considering I don’t usually hang around long enough to have a meaningful conversation, I’d never know if any of those I’ve hooked up with do it.
“Is that something you always do?” I ask, taking a sip of the new beer that was delivered while I was gone.
“Yeah, on and off since I was a teenager. But it gets hard when life is busy, and I soon feel the side effects.”
“Since you were a teenager?” I ask, curious.
She shakes her head, her eyes losing their sparkle momentarily.
“Yeah, I had some issues with a couple of girls in middle school. Their bullying left a lasting impact, I guess.”
“That’s bullshit. You were perfect,” I blurt in anger before thinking.
Sienna’s eyes widen, and she sits back as if I just reached out and struck her.
“Are. You are perfect.” I don’t know why I say it.
She’s made it more than clear that she doesn’t appreciate any man’s opinion about her body.
But that summer was right before she started middle school, and there was zero reason for her to be bullied because of it. “They were probably just jealous.”
“Hmm,” she mumbles, not believing a word of it. “I started cheerleading not long after, and thankfully, they went to a different high school.”
“Good,” I state. “What do you do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“For exercise?”
“Oh, nothing. I learned that I hate exercise as an adult.” She laughs. “Hence keeping an eye on what I eat. Anything to keep me out of the gym. If I’m feeling enthusiastic, I might go horse riding. But I haven’t been for years.”
My heart slams against my ribs at the mention of something we did together that summer. I can’t help but wonder if she’s figured it out, if she’s testing me, but when nothing else follows, I mutter, “Fair enough. I know you don’t want to hear it, but whatever you’re doing, it’s working for you.”
Her cheeks heat, letting me know that she isn’t as opposed to hearing a compliment as she might think.
“Thanks,” she mumbles before taking a sip of her drink.
Long before I’m ready, the second period starts, forcing my attention away from Sienna, and no sooner has it finished than our meals arrive, slowing down any conversation we might have had before the game restarts again.
By the time the game is over, it’s only confirmed in my mind that no amount of time with Sienna will be enough.
Fifteen years ago, I wanted more, and absolutely nothing has changed.