Chapter 22
“And then when you shoved that player out of the crease when he was obviously interfering! That should have been a penalty for sure! The next time I see that referee, I’m giving him a piece of my mind.”
“Sounds good.”
“Your coach needs to change up his second and third lines, too. Bugsy and Wednesday don’t get along, and their bickering is hurting the power play!”
“I’ll tell Coach, I promise.” I can’t help the yawn that escapes, and this time, Grandma hears it.
Even though we had dinner last week when she came down to watch us play, I haven’t gotten to catch up with her like I want.
We’ve been calling and texting a ton during the regular season, and I’m trying so damn hard not to let all the Bratva nonsense and the importance of staying in touch with Ellie cause me to neglect the woman who raised me.
“Alright, mister. That’s the second time you’ve yawned. I know you’re burning the candle at both ends during these playoffs. Why don’t you go to bed, and we can catch up tomorrow?”
“I can’t tomorrow, I have a full day of practice and media. I want to hear about how Thatch played when you went to see him. And about how your last pickleball tournament went! I’m fine, I promise.”
She starts a story about pickleball drama first, explaining that refereeing is a problem across all sports.
I listen as hard as I can, but she’s right.
I’m damn tired; my candle is practically a nub right now.
The first round of the playoffs went almost as well as we could hope, with only one loss, but the grind of playing a West Coast team was hell.
Every hour on a plane, and every time zone farther from Ellie made things just a little bit harder.
She and her family chose not to travel for the away games since it looked like we would win easily in this round, so she’s been busy with her normal routine of volunteering and helping Nonna run the household.
The thought of her being domestic makes my dick twitch even as Grandma complains about her rival pickleball team.
The last time I saw my girlfriend, I filled her up as many times as I physically could and told her to stop taking her birth control.
She agreed, and fuck, do I hope she meant it.
It’s a crazy thing to want to impregnate a woman I’ve only known for a little while.
And one whose brothers have explicitly told me not to date her.
I just can’t ignore the way I feel when I’m around her, like I’m a better person, but I still need to keep improving to deserve her love.
“And I told him exactly where he could shove his pickleball paddle! So, anyway, he asked me out, and we’re going to a jazz club tomorrow for dinner and dancing.”
“What’s this man’s name again?” I ask, sorry to have zoned back in too late to hear more details about Grandma’s new paramour.
“Don’t worry about that. Tell me how your love life has been! I know you’re busy, but there’s no reason for you to sleep in a cold empty bed!”
“Wow, I can’t believe you went there,” I laugh as she dissolves into giggles. Since she gave me an in, now’s the perfect chance to tell her about the woman who’s thrown my life upside down. “But, now that you mention it, I—”
“Oh, shoot, honey! Let me call you back. Thatcher’s beeping in and returning my call. I told him to call me when he was back in town and ready to come over and let me baby him a bit. Even though we expected the Phantoms to lose in the first round, the way it happened upset him, I’m sure. Love you!”
With that, Grandma is off to tend to the emotions of her other grandson, as she calls him.
I would have liked to have told her about Ellie, but I know Thatch could probably use a home-cooked meal right now.
His team, my old one, was a massive underdog in round one but took the series all the way to a deciding seventh game against a top seed.
His penalty toward the end of the game led to the other team scoring the winning goal, and even though I’ve only messaged him briefly, I know that shit stings.
I head for the bathroom, shooting Thatch a text telling him to call me when he gets off the phone with Grandma.
Based on how much they both talk, I probably have at least an hour for a nice, long soak.
My bathtub is built for two, so I’m just able to stretch and enjoy it, which is a massive upgrade from my old condo in New York.
One bath bomb and some Epsom salt later, I can feel some of the tension seeping from my muscles.
My phone vibrates on the table beside the bathtub, meaning one of my “favorites” has messaged me.
The name on the screen has me groaning. Of all the people on that list, it’s the one I want to hear from least. Mila.
Not because she’s not growing on me, the more time I spend with her.
We’re getting along relatively well, even if it’s still an obvious sore spot that I stole her hereditary Bratva role, or whatever.
Oh no, the reason I’m hesitant to even open the message is because she’s been running me fucking ragged.
I assumed there would be an understanding that my day job would come first, especially given the very real chance that my team could make a run for the Stanley Cup.
Misha laughed in my face when I said as much during our last training session, and suggested that I not repeat that sentiment to my sister.
“The Bratva is all that matters to her, Cuddles. She will greatly resent it if you make any mention at all of your hockey career. I can guarantee that she thinks it’s offensive enough that you haven’t quit yet. To suggest that she should care about it in any way is too much.”
As a result, I said nothing to Mila, and she hasn’t let up on my training at all.
If anything, since I have so much less availability now on the weekly schedule I send her, she’s ramped things up.
It’s taken every moment of my time off to try to rest, recover, and not let my performance in the training gym or on the ice suffer.
I feel like I’m one missed gram of protein or one missed massage appointment away from falling apart.
Ellie hasn’t responded to my last text, and I’m not surprised since it’s late and I know she has beach cleanup in the morning.
I’ve almost hoped lately that her brothers will find out about us just so that I can have her here.
Smelling her hair, basking in her smile, slipping between her thighs for my favorite snack…
Bzzbzzbzz.
“Fuck!” My hand hasn’t even been on my cock for thirty seconds before my phone screen lights up with Thatcher’s name.
I can’t even be mad at him. I did ask him to call me, after all.
With a sigh, I pull the tub drain and stand to dry off and grab dinner as we chat.
I think I have one more frozen lasagna that Ellie prepped for me…
“Hey bro, thanks for calling. I wasn’t convinced you would, since you steal my grandmother for a minimum of two hours every time you talk on the phone.”
His smiling face fills my screen, and I prop my phone up on the counter as I move to prep my food. “She had to let me go when her new boo called. Otherwise, you’re right. So how does it feel to officially move on in the playoffs? I wouldn’t know.”
“Don’t use humor to deflect your pain, Thatcher Prescott. Not with me,” I tease as I wait for the microwave to finish. “How are you holding up?”
He props his own phone up in his shower, giving me a view I did not ask for, and winces.
“I’m…okay. I’ve been better, not gonna lie.
But I’ve taken everyone’s advice and stayed off social media, and I haven’t even turned on the TV to see the highlights played over and over.
I’m better than I was a couple of days ago. ”
“Shit, man,” I mumble around a mouthful of food. “I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner. I—”
“Don’t even apologize for that! I can tell how tired you are, and I know the coach down there is hardcore.
You had a series to win. I’m glad you focused on that instead of my sorry ass.
Besides, all your attention that isn’t spent on hockey should absolutely be on communicating with the love of your life. ”
That statement would have made me choke on my garlic bread not even a few months ago, but I just shrug my shoulders. “Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, bud. Actually, now that you’re done for the year—”
“Fuck you—” He laughs.
“Why don’t you come down and stay here for a bit? You can go to the beach when we’re at away games. If you think Grandma can manage without you for a short visit.”
He’s out of the shower now, and I can see that he looks about as tired as I feel. “I’ll think about it. Might be nice to see some more of your girl.”
“Watch it,” I growl.
“Have you guys told her family? Or are you still waiting until—”
“The end of the playoffs, yeah.”
His grimace matches my feelings on the matter. “That could be almost two months, man.”
“I know. But I don’t see an alternative unless I want to totally implode this team and also possibly risk extreme bodily harm.”
“Fair enough. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
“Hmm. Well, let me know if you decide to come down. I know Grandma is for a few games, but you know she never stays with me.”
He laughs, and I’m glad I’ve gotten to brighten his day just a bit. “The fact that she demands to stay at the Four Seasons and you always let her will never stop being funny.”
“What can I say? I like to spoil the women in my life.”
With a loaded look, we say our goodbyes, and he promises to let me know soon if he’s able to come down.
I’m in bed within five minutes, swallowing another ibuprofen and hoping I sleep better than I have the last few nights.
If I can just see Ellie in my dreams, maybe we can find time together in real life, too.
The past few nights, though, her brothers have haunted my sleep, bringing only nightmares.