Chapter 10
Rome
I should say no, but I can’t.
There is no universe where I turn down such a heartfelt, obviously poignant, request.
“Of course,” I reply with a sincerity I don’t allow myself to express very often.
“I need to try,” she admits. “I used to love skating. I thought it was going to be my future, you know? Then my dreams died right along with my parents that night.” She stares off into the distance, and there’s no doubt she’s a million miles away.
I hate seeing the pain in her eyes.
“If you were skating at that level, even after an injury, it’s going to come back,” I say, reaching across the table and taking both of her hands in mine.
I don’t like the haunted expression that tells me she’s going to dark places in the recesses of her mind.
I need to bring her back here. To me. Where it’s safe.
Where I can try to make her laugh and see the sparkle in her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. But now that she’s looking at me, I see the grit coming back. The girl who knees guys in the balls and doesn’t take shit from her brother, no matter how much she loves him.
That’s the kind of girl I need. Someone who won’t take shit from me but will still love me when I fuck up.
I didn’t get that from either of my wives.
“I don’t own roller skates,” I say, squeezing her hands.
“I don’t either, but we can rent them down there. I know right where the place is.”
“Perfect.”
Wade arrives with our food then, and the lost look is gone, replaced by a sigh of delight when she takes her first bite.
“Oh, this is good,” she breathes.
“If you start working here,” I say, “Bodi and I can probably get the team to start hanging out here, and your tips will go up exponentially.”
She grins. “Now that’s some serious incentive.”
“It’ll be good for Nita too. Not that she needs any help getting customers.”
“The line is even longer than when we arrived,” she says, staring out toward the entrance. “If I can work Friday and Saturday nights, I’ll potentially be making more money in a weekend than I make all month at the grocery store.”
It’s good for her to think about all the positives, so I nod encouragingly. “You’re going to do great. I know you are.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The jukebox starts playing “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley and the Comets and the whole place seems to start singing along.
It’s a little cringe-worthy but the joy emanating from Billie as she sings chips away at my embarrassment until I’m right there with her, holding one of her hands by the time the song ends.
Yeah, I’ve got it bad.
And there’s no backing out at this point.
I know the trouble that’s coming—I’ve been in this position dozens of times before—but never with someone who makes me so happy.
Or who provides contentment I’m not used to.
She’s beautiful and genuine and fun. From the piercing in her eyebrow to the curve of her ass, I’m fascinated by everything about her and want to know more. Hell, I want to know everything.
Dating has always been about sex.
But not tonight. Not with Billie.
I want to hear her laugh and sing decades-old songs with her.
I want to hold her hand and make sure she’s not thinking about things that take the light out of her eyes.
I wouldn’t say no if she wanted to jump my bones, but it’s not the end game.
And that’s the scary part—I don’t know what the end game is.
All I know for sure is that I’m going to play until we get there, even if the only thing waiting for me is an ass-kicking from Bodi.
Spending this time with Billie is worth it.
We thank Nita before we head out and even though it nearly kills me, I allow Billie to leave Wade a twenty-five-dollar tip since our meal was comped. We almost argued about it, but Billie reminded me that dinner was her idea and it was supposed to be a thank you for letting her use my dad’s car.
At that point, I gave in gracefully but as we step out onto the sidewalk, I say, “You’re not paying for any more dates. It’s not how I’m built.”
Her eyes twinkle as she looks up at me. “Does that mean we’re going out again?”
“We have a date tomorrow after the game, don’t we?”
“Well, I mean…is that a date? It’s going to be more about you holding my hand so I don’t wipe out and smash my leg into a million pieces.”
“Come on.” I slide my arm around her shoulders as we walk. “You know that’s not going to happen, right? I get the subconscious worry, but the leg is healed, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You were given the all-clear to skate?”
“Years ago.”
“Your incredibly over-the-top protective older brother, the same one who worries about you day in and day out—he’s tried to get you to skate, hasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Bodi wouldn’t even consider it if there was so much as a half a percent chance you could be hurt. Sure, accidents happen, but you skating on the sidewalk in a straight line is going to be fine. And I’ll be right there. Holding your hand the whole time if that’s what you need.”
To my surprise, she tugs my arm and leans up, pressing a soft kiss on my cheek. “You say you’re not a nice guy, but I don’t believe you.”
“I’m nice to you ,” I counter gruffly.
“You were nice to Nita. You were nice to your teammate’s niece last night, the one who wouldn’t stop talking about some art gallery.”
He smiles. “Ally. She’s a good kid. That’s Canyon’s niece. She’s been through a lot. Her mom overdosed and then they couldn’t find Canyon right away—I guess the family was estranged—so she was in foster care for a while.”
“So you collect orphans.”
It’s more a statement than a question and though I wouldn’t have agreed with her before now, it does seem to be a thing with me lately. Since I got to the Phantoms. Since I met Billie.
“I wouldn’t say I collect them,” I say, “but it’s more like I’m empathetic toward them.”
“I think it’s more than that.”
“Don’t kid yourself, honey—I can be a dick when I want to be.”
She laughs. “To be fair, so can I.”
I highly doubt that, but I won’t argue with her. I’m having too nice of a time holding her close. Talking to her. She’s really easy to talk to, and I’m not ready to call it a night, even though I have to rest since there’s a game tomorrow.
“How far did you park?” I ask.
“About three more blocks that way.” She points in the opposite direction.
“Then why are we walking this way?” I ask.
“I figured you’d drive me back to my car.” She pauses. “Your car.”
“ Your car,” I say firmly. “For now anyway. But I’m not holding ownership over your head. Bodi’s paying the insurance so as far as I’m concerned, it’s yours.”
“I’m going to pay the insurance,” she says. “Now that I don’t have to pay rent, I can afford it.”
“Are you not looking for an apartment?” I ask curiously. Although I don’t mind having her around, my understanding was that the arrangement was temporary.
She stops walking and looks at me. “Didn’t Bodi talk to you?
I decided I’m going to stay until the end of the season.
Depending on whether or not you make the playoffs, that could be less than two months.
And since neither of you know what’s happening for next season, or the off-season for that matter, we’re not going to make any decisions or changes until then. ”
Huh. Bodi never said a word. I’m not mad about it, but he and I are going to have a conversation about communication.
She misunderstands my hesitation and frowns. “Do you…not want me there?” she whispers, a flash of hurt in her pretty eyes.
“No, it’s not that.” I quickly shake my head. “I’m just annoyed that Bodi didn’t say anything. We agreed that it was temporary because there’s a good chance I won’t be here another season. My days are numbered.”
“Are they? Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m about to have a college degree,” she says dryly. “I could probably muddle through if you explain it to me.”
“Smartass.” We start walking again. “I’m thirty-five. Like we talked about earlier, I don’t have the best reputation around the league. And the general culture in hockey is moving away from guys like me.”
“Guys like you?”
“Enforcers. Goons. Shit disturbers. I don’t score a lot of goals.”
“Neither do goalies but the teams can’t function without them.”
“It’s a little different for me. Between my age and lack of production, I don’t know if anyone is going to want me. The Phantoms needed a layer of toughness this year going into the playoffs, but beyond that? Who knows.”
“You can fight for a place on the team. For at least one more year. Right?”
“I can. I will. But there are no guarantees. I could have a great post-season and still get traded because another team wants me and makes the Phantoms an offer they can’t refuse.”
“You’re right—it is complicated.” She seems thoughtful. “I would hate for you to leave.”
And for some reason, despite how much I’ve always disliked my hometown, I would hate it too.