Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
MALAKI
It isn’t often that I’m completely wired after a game, but since the playoffs start soon, Coach only gave me a few minutes of skate time to eliminate the risk of injury before the most important games.
I easily pull off my dry pads, none of them wet with sweat, and toss them off to the side.
Lars takes a seat beside me on the bench. “You going out tonight?”
Typically, I’d go out for a little while just to keep an eye on Kane and his reckless behavior, but now that he’s been tamed by Daisy, he no longer needs me as a babysitter.
I shake my head. “Nah, not tonight.”
I’ve got energy to burn, but the thought of going out doesn’t quite entice me like before.
“What? Why not? You always go out!” He stands up abruptly, clearly disappointed. “You hardly played tonight, so don’t tell me you’re tired. Plus, I saw you sleeping on the plane.”
He’s right. It’s not often that I stay behind with all the married guys holed up in their hotel rooms, so why does the thought of going to the club, or at the very least a cool dinner spot, sound dull?
“Because…” Emory, already dressed with his bag slung over his shoulder, looks at Lars. “He’s got a fiancée to spend his evening on the phone with. Maybe you should use that accent of yours and sweet talk yourself into getting a girlfriend.”
“I would,” Lars argues. “But every time I lay eyes on some gorgeous woman, she ends up being taken by one of you idiots.”
A collective chuckle flows throughout the locker room. Everyone except Kane finds Lars’s annoyance amusing.
He scowls at him. “Don’t even think about Daisy.”
“Easy, killer,” I echo. “Everyone knows that Daisy is off-limits.”
Reese too.
The locker room clears out as we all make our way to the bus. I finally grab my phone, eager to do exactly what Emory suggested.
And what do you know, I already have a text waiting for me from her.
Reese
Malaki.
That’s all it says. Just my name. I grin because I know what’s coming next. She’s just waiting for me to respond.
Me
Dimples.
My phone vibrates as soon as I sit down, and I’m so excited to see her response my heart rate spikes.
Reese
Did you forget to mention that, in addition to an alarm system being installed, you had a crib delivered too?
Me
It was a two-in-one deal. Buy an alarm system, get a free crib. Since I know a baby, it would be crazy to turn it down.
I chuckle to myself.
Reese
That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Buy an alarm system, get a free crib?
Me
I don’t make the rules.
We pull up to the hotel, and I shove my phone in my pocket to exit the bus. Coach Jones and Assistant Coach Crawford garner my attention, along with a few other defensive players, Rhodes included.
“You got plans? We’re having dinner at the hotel restaurant and want to discuss some defensive strategies for the playoffs. The standings were just released. One more home game and then it’s go time.”
They immediately have my attention. “Who are we playing?”
Rhodes, in his gruff voice, answers, “Coyotes.”
“Shit.” Talk about a hard opponent.
Coach Jones raises his brows, waiting for my confirmation of attendance. The whole ‘you got plans’ wasn’t really a question, though. It’s implied that I sit my ass down and talk strategy.
“Let me go take my stuff up to the room, and I’ll be down,” I say.
I step on the elevator and wait until I’m away from my teammates to open my phone again.
Reese
I can’t accept this crib.
I knew that was coming.
Me
Good thing it isn’t for you.
Reese
Malaki.
Me
Dimples.
I can see her now, trying to hide her smile from me, which does nothing but deepen her dimples.
Reese
Take it back.
Me
Can’t, sorry. They said no returns.
Reese
Malaki, please.
My fingers hover over my screen as I reread her text.
It’s two words.
Yet, it delivers such a punch.
Reese is dependent on no one other than herself.
That’s the way she’s been since the moment I met her–fighting me tooth and nail every step of the way if I do something that’s out of the ordinary.
I know she views it as charity, but even worse, she assumes I’ll use it against her later down the road, which bothers me more than it should.
Me
Do you want to know why I bought it?
I know I should put a pause on our texting as I head back out of my hotel room and into the elevator because minutes from now, I’ll be in the midst of a game plan and defensive strategies against the Coyotes, except I don’t want to end the conversation.
The thought of Reese thinking I’m going to take the crib back or somehow use it against her down the road, enrages me. The need to prove to her that not all men are like Benedict feels too important.
I watch as the floors on the elevator descend.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6…
I think about pushing the emergency stop button just so I can wait a little longer for her response, but I choose to send her another message before she can even type out hers.
Me
You and Charleigh deserve the best of the best. You are my fiancée, fake or not. I won’t let you have anything less.
I slip my phone into my pocket with a proud smile on my face and walk over to where my coaches are seated. Rhodes nods to the beer at the empty spot beside him, and I sit down.
Minutes pass, Coach Crawford speaking of the skill level of the Coyotes and a few players that I know will be difficult to keep up with–difficult, not impossible–and then the waitress comes to take our order.
I take the opportunity to check my phone beneath the table, eager to see if Reese has texted me back.
Reese
You can’t say things like that to me.
My brow furrows.
Me
Why? Because you’re not used to it? That’s a tragedy, Dimples. You’re just going to have to get used to it.
Rhodes elbows me, and I quickly check back into the conversation. I slide my phone into my pocket and take a sip of my beer. The vibration against my thigh pulls on my attention, but I do my best to stay checked in.
Coach Crawford looks to Coach Jacobs. “We need to change the lines.”
Lines being the groups of players that head onto the ice together. Our lines and shifts are changed often, sometimes even during a game to better fit our opponents. Then there’s the fatigue too. Sometimes I can barely make it to the bench after a long shift because of my speed.
Coach Jacobs nods sternly. “Tolliver and Page will be best matched up against you.” He points to me. “They’re just as fast, so you’ll be able to keep up.”
“Have you studied Berg?” Rhodes raps his knuckle against the table. “He’s one of the best goalies in the league.”
“Don’t let Emory hear you say that,” I mutter.
Rhodes chuckles, and the conversation shifts to offense.
My phone is burning a hole in my pocket, so I secretly check it again.
Reese
You know you don’t have to buy us things or treat me like I’m actually going to have your last name one day, right?
Oh, really?
Me
Who says you won’t have my last name one day?
Reese
Malaki!
Me
Future Mrs. Young!
This time, I keep my phone in my hand instead of putting it in my pocket. A month ago, I’d be fully engaged in the conversation happening right in front of my face and thinking of nothing but hockey, but since Reese stepped into my life, I have a zest for something else.
There’s a new objective that came out of nowhere, and even sitting at a table with two men who hold my future in their hands, I can’t seem to dismiss it.