Chapter 5 #2
“ Oh, Rory, you’re so incredible. I might be the dumbest boy alive, but I’m still smart enough to know how lucky I am to be in your presence ,” Keller adds.
“ Oh, Rory, you’re so…so… ” Fox sighs. “Shit, I can’t think of anything. Rory’s just really cool, you know?”
We all laugh. Of course that’s what Fox comes up with. He’s always the nice guy, even when he tries not to be.
We clean up our equipment, and I ignore how jelly-like my legs are as I hop off the bike. If they’re already hurting after a simple preseason workout, I can’t imagine how I’m going to feel once I’m actually on the ice, where everyone is younger and faster than me.
It’s just more proof that I need to focus on this season more than anything else. No distractions, especially not in the form of a beautiful blonde bombshell with the most captivating green eyes I’ve ever seen. Hockey. Just hockey.
We hit the showers for a quick rinse and head out to the bar, each of us taking our own cars.
I’m almost certain half the guys will make up an excuse to leave within an hour of being there.
That’s how it’s gone since they started pairing off.
One minute we’ll be there shooting the shit, feeling like it did back when we first started the club.
The next it’ll just be me and Keller, drinking to forget how lonely we both are.
He’ll never admit it, of course, but I can.
I am lonely, and I wish like hell I weren’t.
But there’s not much I can do about that now with everything on the line—my future as a top defenseman in the NHL, as a Seattle Serpent, and my hockey career.
There’s no time to think about being lonely.
That’s a problem for post-hockey me, and since I’m not ready to hang up my skates, I’ll have plenty of time to worry about that later.
I find street parking near Top Shelf and click the button on my key fob to lock my AMG just as Hutch jogs up to me.
“Hey,” he says, his shoulder bumping against mine as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sorry about getting a little riled up back there. Just a lot going through my mind right now, you know?”
“I know. But like Hayesy said, we’re here for you. We are friends. Your family . We’re here through it all, even if you just need to do a little venting.”
He nods a few times. “Thanks, man. I, uh, I appreciate it.” His voice is thick with emotion, and I can’t say I blame him. He’s juggling a lot right now. Hutch clears his throat and opens the door to Top Shelf. “Now, let’s have a drink, yeah?”
We step inside, and Hutch comes to a dead stop. I barely catch myself from running into the back of him.
“What the fuck?” he says.
I look around him and blink. Once, then twice. A third time for good measure. The good news is that thanks to Hutch’s reaction, I’m not seeing things.
The bad news? We might have brought him to the wrong place to try to relax. Standing behind the bar is the very same blonde woman I’ve been trying hard to put out of my mind.
Nessa.
She’s nodding at whatever the bartender says as she pours shots into a glass. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, her eyebrows cinched together in concentration. Even from here, I can tell she’s tensed, afraid she’ll drop something and mess up.
“What are you doing here?”
I hadn’t even realized Hutch had moved, but suddenly he’s across the room, standing at the bar right in front of her. I was too busy staring at her.
She looks up, startled. “Reed.”
“What are you doing here, Van?” Hutch repeats, more bite behind each word.
I take that as my cue to join him, to hopefully keep him calm.
The whole point of coming here was so he could blow off steam, not be triggered by his problems even more.
I keep my eyes on his sister as I settle in beside him.
She doesn’t look my way even once, and I’m not sure if that pisses me off or if I’m grateful for it.
I’m not entirely sure how much longer I can pretend I don’t know her.
“Van? I thought you liked to go by Nessa,” the bartender says.
“Nessa?” Hutch laughs. “Since when do you go by Nessa?”
“Since I want to,” she answers, a bit of venom seeping into her words. She glares up at her brother. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean? This is my bar.”
“Your bar? I didn’t know you owned a bar.”
He levels her with an annoyed look. “I don’t mean my actual bar. This is where I come. My teammates and I.” Hutch slaps me on the back. “Right, Locke?”
For the first time, Nessa turns her gaze to me, and I find myself holding my breath again. I don’t know why I keep doing it. I’m not even entirely sure what I’m waiting for when I do it, but it happens anyway.
Hutch is looking at me, waiting for me to say something, so I exhale. “We come here after games a lot.”
Slowly, she pulls her eyes from mine, looking back at her brother. “Well, if you don’t own the place, I guess I’m free to do as I please.”
“Which is what?”
“Running a marathon.” She lifts the glass, shaking it at him. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing? I work here now.”
Hutch grinds his teeth, his jaw working back and forth as he processes that.
Finally, after several moments, he blows out a long breath and nods. “Okay.”
Nessa looks surprised by his relenting. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Just don’t…” He leans in closer. She follows.
Wildflowers. Lavender.
“Just don’t tell people we’re related, yeah?
” Her eyes widen, and I am about two seconds from punching my captain when he adds, “I don’t mean that to be a dick.
I mean it for your safety. For Auden’s. For mine.
I love my fans, and the regulars here have always left us alone for the most part, but people are fucking weird sometimes.
You never know what kind of long game they’re playing, and I don’t want to jeopardize anyone.
I just want us to be safe. All of us to be safe. ”
It might be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard Hutch say to or about his sister. Based on the look on Nessa’s face, I’m not the only one who thinks that.
She gives him a hesitant smile. “I’ll keep it to myself.”
“Good.” He taps the bar twice. “I’ll take a whiskey, two cubes, and whatever he wants. I’m hitting the head.”
His feet stomp across the floor as he walks away, leaving me alone with Nessa for the first time since the hallway.
The other bartender has gone about his business but keeps one eye on me and his newest employee, just in case.
I watch as she grabs a bottle of whiskey off the top shelf, plunks two ice cubes into a glass, and pours three fingers’ worth of booze on top.
Silence sits heavy between us, an awkwardness that was never there in New York. I hate it. I hate that we’re in this situation. I hate that we didn’t exchange full names. I hate that we didn’t trade numbers. I hate that she left me alone in my bed.
I clear my throat. “So, you work here now?”
“Yep.” She sets Hutch’s drink on the bar in front of me. “I work here now. What can I get you?”
Her words are cold. Robotic even. Like she couldn’t care less that it’s me sitting across from her.
It’s my last straw. My breaking point.
I sigh. “Are we really going to keep pretending?”
“Pretending what?”
She says it so blasé. So unbothered.
But I know she’s not. She’s bothered, all right.
It’s evident in the way she can’t seem to keep her eyes on mine, having to look away like she can’t bear to keep staring at me.
It’s in the way she startles ever so slightly each time I speak, as if she’s lost in her thoughts, and I just walked in and interrupted them.
It’s in how every time she dares a glance my way, her emerald eyes drop right to my lips.
“Stop pretending I don’t know you wear cherry lip gloss, don’t know what you sound like when you come.” I lean closer, dropping my voice. “Don’t know what your pretty pink cunt tastes like, Nessa .”
The flush on her face is unmistakable. It reminds me of what she looked like that night, sweaty and satisfied on my hotel sheets.
I reach down and adjust my cock that’s pressing against my zipper, then settle back on my stool. “So, are we really going to keep pretending?”
Her eyes are dilated, her pupils so big you can barely register the green. Cheeks flushed. Breaths coming in sharply. Her nostrils flare, and I have a feeling she’s about to give me the tongue lashing of my life.
That’s fine. I welcome it—anything to get her to acknowledge what happened between us.
“Oh, fuck off! I won! You know I did!”
We all turn our attention to the guys who just walked through the door rather loudly.
“Bullshit,” Keller fires back at Lawson. “I got here first fair and square.”
“No. No way. I was first. How the hell do you open the door without being first?”
“I said the first to enter the bar. Not my fault you stopped to be a gentleman.”
“To be fair, he did say first to enter,” Hayes sides with Keller.
Fox grimaces. “He did say that.”
“Horseshit!” Lawson explodes, pointing at Keller. “I want a rematch.”
“Rematch for a race to the place we’re already at? Get a grip and buy me my drink, loser.”
Lawson groans in frustration, then marches toward the bar, stopping short when he realizes who is behind it. “Holy shit. You’re the evil stepsister. I—hey, ow!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Hayes hisses at him after smacking him on the head.
He might be due a visit with Doc for concussion protocol before the season even starts if he keeps this up.
“Sorry.” Lawson rubs at the spot, then grins at Nessa. “I didn’t mean evil . I just meant stepsister.” He holds his hand out to her. “I’m Lucas, but my friends call me?—”
“No, we don’t.”
“Don’t listen to him.”
“Please, for the love of everything, shut the fuck up.”
Fox, Hayes, and Keller all speak at once, interrupting Lawson, who was undoubtedly about to tell Nessa all about his self-appointed nickname.
Lawson rolls his eyes. “Sorry about them. I was going to say, my friends call me Lawson.” Then he leans forward and—very poorly—whispers, “Lawless Lawson.”
Nessa grins, and I hate and love it at the same time. I missed it. It’s haunted my dreams since I saw her last. But I hate that it’s not me she’s smiling at.
I want it to be me.
“Nice to meet you, Lawless Lawson.”
He beams, probably glad someone is finally listening to him and calling him Lawless like he’s been trying to get us to do for years. He points to our goalie. “That’s Arthur Fox.”
“Ma’am,” says the man in question, living up to his southern roots and tipping an imaginary hat at her.
She smiles, and something shifts in my chest.
Lawson points to Hayes next. “That’s Adam Hayes. He banged his nanny.”
“What the…” Hayes closes his eyes momentarily, likely to keep from killing his teammate, then smiles at Nessa. “Nice to meet you. Please ignore him. He loves to gossip.”
“Is it really considered gossip if it’s true?” Lawson shrugs. “And that’s?—”
“Keller. Just Keller,” he interrupts.
“I was going to say Cheating Jackass Who Should Be Buying Me Drinks, but yeah, Keller works too.” He tilts his head my way. “You met Gavin Whitlocke already, yeah?”
Our gazes collide, and if I look closely enough, I can see that pink creeping back into her cheeks.
“Something like that,” she mutters before turning back to the guys. “So, what can I get you all to drink?”
They rattle off their orders, then amble over to the booth we tend to take control of whenever we’re here. I don’t make a move to join them, still waiting for Hutch to come out of the bathroom, where I’m sure he’s calling Auden to check in with her.
Or at least that’s the excuse I’m using to sit close to Nessa. She sets their drinks on a tray, adding Hutch’s to the mix. Then she turns and rises up on her tiptoes, grabbing a bottle of Macallan from the top of the shelf.
She remembered.
I don’t know why that delights me so much but, fuck, it really does.
She pours me three fingers’ worth, then sets the glass on the tray without another glance in my direction.
I watch her pick up the tray and unsteadily walk it over to the booth the other guys are occupying.
I guess it’s her not-so-subtle way of telling me to get lost. Funny, because she’s the only thing I want to get lost in.
No.
I push that thought from my mind. She can’t be the thing I get lost in.
The season is just too important to let even a girl like her distract me.
I pull myself off the stool just as Hutch walks back into the main room.
He tucks his phone into his back pocket, confirming my suspicion that he was likely chatting with Auden.
“I miss anything?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nah, nothing.”
Still, I can’t take my eyes off his sister.
We settle into the booth, and I am unsurprised to find Lawson and Keller still going at it.
Hutch joins the conversation right away, and I know then that this was the perfect distraction, even if Nessa is here.
The guys talk around me, and I occasionally laugh or throw in a nod, but I’m not paying them any attention. Not really.
No, my focus is solely on the woman behind the bar.
I watch her move around, making drinks and cracking open beer bottles.
She laughs with customers. She stands too close to the other bartender, who teaches her to mix drinks.
At one point, she twists her long blonde locks into a braid, letting it hang over her shoulder in a way that tempts me far too much.
But she never looks over here, no matter how much I will her to.
I know she can feel my eyes on her. How could she not?
I’m staring at her like some sort of stalker creep.
I can’t help it, though. Every time I look at her, all I can think of is that night.
Our night. The one in New York. The last one to make me feel something.
As excited as I am for the new season to start, right now, the only place I want to be is back in that hotel, back on sheets that were a little too scratchy, a mattress that was a little too firm, and pillows that could have used replacing.
None of it mattered when I had her there, and even though I shouldn’t, I want her there again.