Chapter 19
Daisy
In the split second she had to decide how to react, Daisy’s emotions ranged from horror and mortification to excitement and joy. She’d hoped to avoid the Patrick issue altogether until she could have a private conversation with Connor.
But here she was, meeting the team, and introductions got interrupted by her best friend—the person this franchise hated the most. That Connor hated the most.
When she’d told him they were on an uneven playing field, this is what she meant. Her obsession with him had imploded both of their lives years before they ever met. How do you explain that to a person? She needed to figure it out real fast.
But her relationship with Patrick was nonnegotiable.
He was her person. More than her brother.
More than Roxie. And definitely more than a man she hadn’t even kissed.
They had been inseparable since they were six years old, riding scooters in the driveway and making mud pies in the backyard.
Whoever she ended up with would have to come to terms with that.
It had been the death of more than one relationship.
So she greeted him how she would any other time she saw him.
When he dropped his bag and opened his arms, it took her three strides to get there.
She jumped, trusting him to catch her, and squeezing him tight as he spun her in a circle.
She couldn’t contain her squeal as he crushed the breath from her lungs.
Patrick’s hugs were home. It was a damn shame they weren’t attracted to each other, because she was pretty sure they were soulmates. He sat her down and clocked her outfit.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” She did a spin with her hands above her head, ending in a sassy pose, showing off her Seattle Freeze merch.
He glared and put his hands on his hips, and she whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll change.”
Three hundred sixty-three nights a year, she was the biggest Seattle Freeze fan around.
But she was also Patrick’s biggest fan. Even Sophia wouldn’t argue that.
On rare occasions, her two great loves ran in direct opposition, so on those two nights a year, she betrayed her beloved hockey team.
But she didn’t need to announce that to the entire room.
She looped her arm around Patrick’s waist and led him to where a horrified Connor and Hazy were waiting.
Lover stared open-mouthed from across the room.
The hurt on his face cut Daisy deep. This would be rough, but she could explain later.
After she talked to Connor. She positioned herself between Connor and Patrick.
They probably wouldn’t fight off the ice, but she was dropping an atomic bomb on them, so it could go either way.
The Russian greeted Patrick with a bro hug. Daisy had worried herself sick about meeting him again. They’d partied together a few times in college when he played on the same team as Patrick.
“Oooh. You’re Millsy’s Daisy. I knew you were familiar!”
Daisy reached out to squeeze Connor’s arm, trying to reassure him, but he dodged her. Patrick pulled her into him, his arm gluing her to his side.
Worry and frustration about how she could dig herself out of this hole warred with the joy and comfort she got from being in his presence. His being there made everything less intimidating. She had needed the reminder that all these players she fangirled over were people, just like him.
“You’ve got some serious splainin’ to do, darlin’,” Patrick said.
She rolled her eyes at the term of endearment. It sounded so silly coming out of his mouth in a ridiculous accent. When she’d asked him to call her darlin’ at eight years old because of a movie she didn’t remember, she didn’t know it would stick for twenty years.
“Yeah, yeah. A lot has happened. I’ll tell you at dinner.”
Novikov waggled a finger between her and Patrick with amusement.
“I forget how weird you are.” Patrick grinned.
Daisy snuck a peek at Connor. He wouldn’t look at her, so she examined his side profile.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. If he clenched it any harder, he’d break a tooth.
A glance in Hazy’s direction told her she wouldn’t find support from him.
Touching Connor would be risky, but if she could get skin to skin contact with him, everything would feel better.
“You are same as before. In love. Why you break up?” Novikov asked.
Daisy groaned.
She expected Patrick to dive into his usual monologue about how some people are meant to be friends. Instead, he got an evil glint in his eye and said, “I don’t know, Daisy, why did we break up?”
She gave him a wild-eyed smile that told him to shut his yap. He didn’t. “Because, how I remember it, there was this guy—”
She didn’t have time to register the pure panic before her body reacted. She reached out and grabbed his nipple through his t-shirt, twisting hard, a practiced move from their adolescent years. He doubled over in her grip.
“If you say one more word, I swear to God, Patrick, I will rip your dick off and shove it so far up your ass you’ll be able to blow yourself. Understand?”
He nodded, unable to form words. She let go, and he straightened, rubbing his stinging nipple but laughing.
“Damn darlin’, your grip hasn’t changed.”
“Nope, it hasn’t.” Ignoring the shocked expressions of every person in the room, Daisy steered Patrick to the door by his shoulders. “It’s time for you to go warm up.”
He twisted in her grip, crushed her in a hug, and kissed the top of her head. He whispered, “You better plan on a late night because your boyfriend is going to pummel me.”
Patrick fed the fire, building the drama, stoking Connor’s temper.
She’d seen him do it dozens of times before, but she’d never been so annoyed about it.
“If you throw the first punch or make him bleed, you’ll have to answer to me, so I suggest you watch yourself.
And your wife can’t save you, Sophia will take my side. ”
He pulled away and grinned at her. Louder, so the whole room could hear, he said, “I’ll see you after the game.” She shoved the strap of his bag at him and continued pushing him toward the door. When she had him on the threshold, he shouted, “Love you!”
“I love you, too. Now get the fuck out.”
When she faced the team, their faces were a mix of shock, disgust, and sadness. Except Novikov and Reese who were both smirking. Scanning the room confirmed the Connors had left while she dealt with Patrick. She covered her face with her hands and groaned.
“I royally fucked that up, huh?”
The group overwhelmingly agreed with her.
Daisy didn’t get to attend many hockey games because tickets were ridiculously priced.
If she did get to a game, she got nosebleed tickets with Roxie, or she had to plan her finances around the expense.
Whenever Patrick came to town, though, he got her and Grayson the best tickets in the house.
Most people believed the best seats were right on the glass, but the ideal view was center ice, up about twenty rows.
That way the penalty boxes, benches, and glass didn’t obstruct the view.
That year, the schedule worked out so that Patrick’s team would be playing Seattle twice in one week.
She was exhausted thinking about how busy her schedule would be.
Going to practices, then the game, then dinner with Grayson and Patrick at their favorite 24-hour diner, then spending the next day with Patrick.
After that would be the day of reckoning, where she had another activity scheduled with the Connors.
And then another game the following day.
She’d wait to explain and apologize during her next event with the Connors. Doing it over text would cause more problems.
She tried to put the disastrous morning out of her mind as she got ready.
The familiar routine of doing her hair and makeup for Patrick’s game soothed her.
Hockey players were superstitious. So were their fans and loved ones.
She’d been wearing her hair and makeup the same way to every game she attended since they were in high school.
Her hair was straight and half up with a bow in Patrick’s team colors.
Winged eyeliner, glitter in team colors high on her cheekbones, and Patrick’s number painted on her right cheek.
At seventeen it had been cute. At twenty-eight she felt a little deranged, but she stuck with the routine for good luck.
She slipped on leggings and rummaged in her closet for the pristine San Jose jersey she brought out twice a year.
She paired it with a matching sweatshirt to wear underneath.
Daisy evaluated the outfit, feeling off.
She never hesitated to flip sides for Patrick.
Usually, the outfit felt like slipping into a familiar hug, but that day it felt like an essential piece was missing.
She swapped out the San Jose sweatshirt for a Seattle Freeze sweatshirt, then layered Patrick’s jersey over the top.
Nobody would notice. Something was still missing.
Compelled to represent the Connors, she shoved up her sleeves and with a liquid eyeliner pen wrote the numbers 67, 49, and 3 in a row on the inside of her left wrist. She let the pen dry and then doused it in setting spray, ensuring it wouldn’t smudge before sliding her sleeves down.
Grayson picked her up and smiled at her outfit as she got into his car. “I see we’re going with tradition tonight.”
“Always! It’s good luck.”
Grayson and Daisy were close. They spent time together regularly, texted each other daily, and he was her rock.
But he wasn’t a talker. When they slipped into comfortable silence for the ride, she relaxed, in the clear of any probing questions.
But as they headed into the arena, he said, “I wasn’t sure you’d do the same ol’ thing for this game. ”
She frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t I stick to tradition?”
“You’ve been spending time with the Connor line, and I know how things are with the podcast. Roxie mentioned some things to me.
And Patrick texted me this morning that he found you consorting with the enemy.
Says he got them riled real good for tonight.
Seemed weird they both checked in with me about your relationship with the Freeze, and you haven’t said a word. ”
Fucking Roxie and Patrick. Those two gossips couldn’t keep their mouths shut.
She groaned. “The plan for tonight is the same as usual. I’m wearing my lucky outfit.
We’re going to go to warmups so Patrick can see my face.
Then we’re going to use the restroom and buy two of the house special canned beers each so we don’t have to leave our seats for the entirety of the game.
We’re meeting Patrick after the game and taking him to the diner. ”
“And you have nothing to share with the class?”
“Grayson, I love you, but you’re being nosy. I’ll tell you everything when I figure it out, but right now it’s a giant mess. I owe three wonderful men a serious explanation as to why I blindsided them this morning before I do anything else.”
“So it’s about all the Connors then? You guys are friends?”
“Yes, I have been informed we’re all friends.”
“And this has nothing to do with your decade-old crush on Beanie?”
Daisy sighed. “This has everything to do with my crush on Connor.”
They descended the stairs into the bowl of the arena and lined up at the glass on the visiting team end as warmup music started.
San Jose took the ice first, and she watched them do their warmup laps.
Patrick hadn’t changed his warmup routine in years.
He skated around his half of the ice twice, took a few shots on the net, and then moved to the side of the ice to stretch.
Warmups were one trivial thing that had driven a nail in the coffin of their relationship.
Watching Connor warm up was a sexual experience for Daisy.
Watching Patrick? Nothing. Fondness, maybe. But butterflies? Not a flutter.
When he finished the motions she’d seen him go through a million times before, he went to the bench, grabbed a puck, wrote on it, then scanned the glass for her.
He gave her his signature cocky grin and skated right to her, tossing the puck over the glass.
This was her favorite tradition. For each game he wrote a little note in silver pen on a puck for her.
She had them displayed on her bookshelves.
Sometimes they said ‘Love you’ or ‘Winning tonight’ and sometimes they were a little smiley face or other drawing.
She read what he’d scribbled. ‘Daisy loves Connor.’ Her face grew hot, and when she met Patrick’s eyes, he stuck his tongue out at her.
If the glass hadn’t been there, she’d have thrown the puck at him, but she settled for flipping him off. He laughed and skated away.
Grayson asked, “What does it say tonight?” She handed him the puck, and he laughed.
“Yeah, it’s very funny,” she deadpanned. “Can we go get some beer now?”