Chapter 12
TWELVE
“Do you want to watch a movie?” D-Low asks as he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. The TV is on the San Jose and Seattle game, but I’m barely paying attention as I attempt to tap out a text to Whitney.
“Sure,” I say, and toss him the remote, then go back to my phone.
Me
Sorry I’m just replying. Coach scheduled a last-minute meeting tonight. How was the game?
Whitney
Varsity won, but JV lost. We’re on the bus back to the school now.
Me
Losses are tough. Are you doing okay?
Whitney
Fine. Mostly annoyed about a few mistakes we made early in the game that really cost us. The boys are upset too. No one likes losing. How was the rest of your day? Ready for the game tomorrow?
Me
The day was good. Taking it easy tonight. I think D-Low and I are going to watch a movie.
Whitney
Goon?
I chuckle at my phone.
“What’s so funny?” D-Low asks.
“Nothing.” I wave him off. It’s an opportunity to tell him I’m texting with Whitney, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.
Me
Nah. We watched that last week.
Whitney
Of course you did. Might I suggest Dirty Dancing?
Me
I think D-Low might veto that. We’re doing a Denzel binge.
Whitney
Ah, Denzel. Good choice. But I still think you need to see Patrick Swayze teach Jennifer Grey to dance.
As we’re getting ready in the locker room before our game against St. Louis, D-Low takes a seat next to me. He tips his chin in greeting.
“Ready for tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He nods several times like the nervous energy is coursing through him. “Do you remember Erin’s friend Mindy?”
I’m thrown by the topic change, but it only takes a second to process the name. “Sure. What about her?”
“They’ve got concert tickets for tomorrow night, and they invited us to join.”
Ah. Now I see.
“No thanks.”
“You don’t even know who’s playing.”
“I don’t need to know,” I say with a laugh. “And isn’t Mindy the one with the baby?”
“Yeah. So? The dad isn’t in the picture.”
I shake my head. “That must be hard for her, but no.”
“Why not? You want kids.”
It’s an opening . . . one where I should tell him about Whitney. But once I do, it’s going to lead to a bunch of other questions I’m not ready to answer.
“I’m not interested in being set up right now,” I say, which is true. Setups are the worst.
“Fine.” He sighs. “I’ll ask Penn.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
“I need more single friends. You two suck.” He grins at me and stands to put on his shoulder pads.
After I’m dressed, I check my phone for my usual text from my parents, but they aren’t the only ones who’ve sent me a message.
Whitney
Good luck tonight.
Me
Are you going to cheer for us since we aren’t playing Houston?
Whitney
Oh yeah. I hate St. Louis so I’m always rooting against them.
Me
So, it’s less about hoping we win and more about hoping STL loses?
Whitney
When you put it that way I don’t sound nearly as supportive
Me
Are you a coffee person?
Whitney
Not really. I prefer tea.
Me
What’s your standard tea order?
Whitney
I like to try different things, depending on my mood, but my most frequently ordered drink is a chai latte. You?
Me
Café Americano with a splash of half-and-half and one stevia.
I take a photo of my coffee, then send it to her.
Over the past week, our schedules haven’t lined up to see each other, but nearly every day we’ve chatted.
Everything from a few texts to a solid hour of back and forth.
It’s easier for me this way, not looking at her as we talk.
Especially since the only way I’m able to manage in person is if we’re naked.
Whitney
At the rink?
Me
Yeah. Just walked in for practice. How’s school?
Whitney
In my first period Algebra II class, two people fell asleep and my second period is taking a test right now and half of them are staring blankly at their laptop screens.
Me
So it’s going great then?
Whitney
Soooo good. I’m molding young minds.
Me
Is this a bad time to admit I hated high school math?
Whitney
*gasp* All of it?
Me
Pretty much but especially algebra.
Whitney
Wow . . . I could handle the whole you beating Houston thing, but this might be unforgiveable.
Me
I had this terrible teacher who made us do board work at the front of the class. She’d call on us randomly. It was basically my nightmare.
Whitney
Okay that is awful, but algebra is fun! And there are so many practical uses in hockey. Shooting angles, skating speed, I could go on and on!
I snort a laugh but smile at my phone.
Me
I bet you’re a good teacher.
Whitney
Did you hear the part about kids falling asleep in my class?
Me
They probably stayed up too late. I doubt it has anything to do with you.
Whitney
Maybe, but I’m still pretty new to this. It’s possible I love math so much that my lectures are boring to kids who don’t enjoy it. What would have made you like math more?
Me
You standing at the front of the classroom would have been enough to keep my attention.
The next morning, I send Whitney a picture of my morning drink order. I switched it up this morning and got her favorite tea instead of my coffee.
Whitney
What do you think?
Me
Not bad. I like the touch of cinnamon. Feels festive.
I’m staring at my phone, waiting for her next reply, when I walk into the rink and almost collide with Penn.
“Shit. Sorry.” I hold my cup away from him as I let him go ahead of me.
He quirks one brow and aims a half grin at me. “Rough morning?”
“Nah.” I pocket my phone. “Everything’s good. How are you?”
His gaze lingers on me a beat longer, like he’s trying to determine how truthful I’m being, before he looks ahead and nods. “Good.”
“Are you in the net tonight?”
We have a home game tonight against St. Louis. I’m looking forward to beating them. Even more than usual because I know Whitney will get a kick out of it. She might not admit to being a Moonshot fan, but she watches most of our games now.
When too much time has passed without Penn responding, I glance over at him. We’re walking side by side down the long hall that leads from the parking garage to the locker room. He’s staring at me with a look that’s a mixture of concern and amusement.
“What?” I ask.
“Something is up with you.”
My face heats. “I told you. I’m good.”
“You’ve been distracted all week.”
“Fuck you. I’ve been playing well.” My stats are the best they’ve been in my career. I have the highest points of any defender in the league. I’m getting more scoring opportunities, which has led to more goals, and somehow, I’m also making more assists.
“I don’t mean on the ice.”
Now I’m confused.
Penn’s steps slow as we get closer to the locker room. Travis and Nick are standing in the hallway with our backup goalie, Luke, but I get the feeling Penn doesn’t want them to overhear.
“Does this have something to do with Whitney?” he asks, voice quiet.
I stop walking and then so does he.
“I’m sorry I pushed you to ask her out. Twice.” He winces. “I really thought there was something there.”
It takes me a few seconds to figure out that Penn is worried I’m distracted because he thinks Whitney turned me down.
He mutters to himself, “This is why I don’t get involved like Trav.
” He shakes his head, then he smiles at me a little wider than normal.
“I shouldn’t have pressured you. I thought you two were a great match, but I was wrong.
I’m sorry she turned you down. But if Whitney can’t see how awesome you are under that big, quiet exterior, then it’s her loss.
She isn’t that hot. You’ll meet someone when and if you decide it’s the right thing.
And if not, then that’s okay. Not everyone has to be in a relationship. ”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand before he can say anything else. I’m sorry, did he just say Whitney isn’t that hot? The man needs to have his eyes checked.
He snaps his mouth closed and nods in agreement. I haven’t said anything to my teammates about Whitney because I was enjoying this time where no one else had an opinion on any of it—but especially the part where she’s Victor’s sister.
“She didn’t turn me down.”
His lips part, and his brow wrinkles. “You mean . . . Sorry. What do you mean?”
“Whitney and I had a great time. Twice, actually, and we’ve been talking pretty much nonstop.”
He’s gawking at me like he can’t comprehend the words coming out of my mouth.
“Thank you for pushing me to go to the game. If you hadn’t, then I may not have tried again.” No, I definitely wouldn’t have.
He nods slowly. Confusion is still splashed across his features. “It went well?”
“Yeah. It went great. We went back to her place. And then I saw her last weekend after our home game.”
“And it didn’t end terribly?” he asks again, like he’s apologetic for needing clarification but shocked nonetheless.
One corner of my mouth lifts into a lopsided grin. “No one is more surprised than me.”
He lifts a hand to the top of his head and runs his fingers through his hair as he blows out a breath. “That’s great. I’m . . . wow. Good for you. How come you haven’t said anything?”
“It’s . . .” I let my head fall side to side. “Complicated.”
We reach the other guys.
“Hey,” Trav says.
“Hey,” I reply, and then tip my head at Nick in greeting.
“What’s up with you?” Trav asks, looking at Penn.
Penn blinks the stupor away, but there’s a crease between his brows as he greets Travis and Nick. “Nothing.”
I appreciate that he doesn’t want to tell my secrets, but he’s acting so strange, there’s no way they’re going to let it go.
“I just told him I’m talking to Whitney,” I say.
“Wait . . . the hockey coach?” Trav asks, then he gets the same confused expression on his face. “I thought you blew your chance with her.”
“Blew his chance with who?” D-Low pops up from behind Nick. “The coach?”
“That sounds harsh,” Nick says as he sends a side-eye to both Trav and D-Low. “And he just said they were talking.”
“You are?” This time it’s D-Low who shoots me a puzzled look. There’s a hint of hurt there too. I had a lot of chances to tell him and didn’t.
“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was a thing,” I say.
“And?”
“We’re . . . talking.” I step past them without any further explanation.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Trav hurries to keep up with me. “That’s it?”
The other guys huddle around as I take a seat in front of my locker.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask.
“How?” D-Low asks at the same time Travis asks, “Does this mean you don’t want to meet the chick I texted you about this morning?”
“Do you even know her?” I ask Travis. He sent me a blurry picture of a woman standing in line at the grocery store.
“I struck up a conversation with her.” He nodded. “She’s single, twenty-three, and works at an accounting firm. She gave me her card.” He proceeds to dig around in his pockets until he pulls out a business card and holds it out to me.
“You realize she probably thought you were asking for yourself, right?” I take the card anyway, but have no intention of doing anything with it—except throwing it away.
“Me? But I’m married,” he says quickly.
“Did you tell her that?” Nick asks him.
Travis’s face goes slack. “Oh shit.”
I chuckle and push the card back toward him. “Here you go, man. Good luck.”
He takes a step back. “I need to call Hannah and tell her I inadvertently hit on someone. I’m the worst husband ever.”
“Relax.” Nick squeezes his shoulder. “She’ll think it’s funny.”
D-Low chuckles softly and nods his agreement. “Everyone knows how gone you are for Hannah. Especially Hannah.”
Trav relaxes a little.
“But can I be there when you tell her the story?” D-Low asks.
“Hold up.” Penn’s voice has everyone quietening down. “Can we go back to Shep and Whitney?”
The guys murmur and nod, then all eyes are on me again.
“The night we went to her game, I apologized for being the world’s worst date and told her I liked her, then asked if I could take her out again.
” An image of Whitney standing in the high school parking lot flashes in my mind.
She really thought I wasn’t interested in her.
I guess I can’t blame her based on our first date, but the idea that anyone wouldn’t be jumping at a chance to be with her blows my mind.
“She said yes, and we went back to her place.”
The four men in front of me all go quiet. Travis is the first to speak after several seconds of silence.
“You went home with her?”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod, then proceed to pull out my pads and practice jersey. “It was late. There weren’t a lot of other options.”
“So you didn’t hook up?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Twice,” Penn adds.
When I told him that, I meant we’d hung out again twice, but in this case, both are correct.
They all gape at me.
“The drought is over.” D-Low grins. “Congrats.” Then he looks around, pointing at himself. “I’m the best wingman.”
“How are you the best wingman?” Travis asks him.
“I gave him a pep talk and went to the game with him,” he says.
“No.” Travis shakes his head. “You don’t get credit for that. I’ve set him up with way more people.”
“And they all went terribly,” D-Low reminds him. “That makes you the worst.”
“Practice makes perfect,” Travis insists.
“If anyone is to thank, it’s me.” Penn crosses both arms over his chest. “I was with him when he met her, and I was the one who made sure he knew about the game last week.”
“Wait. I’m confused. Why haven’t you said anything before now?” D-Low asks.
“It’s complicated,” Penn repeats my words from earlier and uses air quotes for emphasis.
“Meaning?” Travis asks.
“Bad hookup?” D-Low asks, grimacing.
“Why would he do it twice if it were bad the first time?” Nick asks.
But then they’re all staring at me again, waiting for an answer.
“It wasn’t bad. The opposite.”
“How exactly does that make it complicated?” Travis asks.
“It doesn’t. Everything is great in that department. She’s sexy and smart and I really like her.”
My best friends in the whole world hang on my every word. I’ve done a fairly good job of ignoring the problem by not thinking about it and I know telling my teammates is going to make it all the more real. But they’ll get it out of me eventually, so I take a breath and prepare to let reality in.
“She’s Victor Aven’s sister.”