Chapter 17 #3
And even after that, we’d kept on texting and even FaceTiming.
A lot. So maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal when we saw each other in person for the first time in a while.
Though I could still see the air between us being moderately awkward, so maybe staying out of the locker room would be a good idea, at least for now.
And maybe seeing him on the ice and on the Jumbotron would be a good primer for seeing him face to face. We wouldn’t be able to avoid each other forever, and I didn’t want to. I just wanted to be ready so I didn’t do or say something stupid.
“Hey, Garrett?” Jasmine’s voice jarred me out of my thoughts.
“Hmm?”
She gestured at the other spouses, who were starting to head down one of the many hallways at ice level. “We’re going to the Zamboni gate for warmups. Do you want to come hang with us?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” I smiled. “Sounds great.”
At the Zamboni gate, Jasmine helped Temo’s wife wrangle their three youngsters, all of whom wanted to watch Daddy through the puck-scuffed glass.
“Do you need another pair of hands?” I asked. “I can help with one of them if you need to.”
Ximena met me with a tired smile. “You don’t mind?”
“Nah, of course not.”
She exhaled. “Thank you so much.” She picked up her three-year-old, Mito, and handed him to me. “They behave, honestly, but they just get so excited before warmups.”
“It’s okay.” I laughed as I settled the boy on my hip. “I’ve got four. I know how it goes.”
“Four?” She touched her chest and shook her head before picking up her littlest, Tepi. “Temo wants five, but I think three is enough for me.”
“Smart,” I said with a laugh.
Then warmups started, and the kids cheered as their dads came out of the tunnel one by one.
I smiled as Chris stepped onto the ice. It would never stop making me proud to see him play, especially at this level.
Right now, he looked so focused and determined, same as he always had from his U10 days all the up to this.
Some people never found their calling in life. Chris had absolutely found his.
In my arms, Mito craned his head toward the glass, probably looking for his dad. I moved closer to give him a better view, but I could only get so close.
“Do you want to stay up like this?” I asked him. “Or—” I gestured at the bench some of the other kids were standing on “—stand on that?”
Mito shook his head in that exaggerated way little kids did. “No! Up!”
I chuckled. “All right, you can stay up.” I adjusted him on my hip to accommodate some annoyed muscles, and we stayed behind the kids with their noses pressed to the glass.
Then Mito’s older sister squealed, and I looked up just as Temo skated up to the gate. He fist-bumped his daughter through the glass. I held Mito closer to it so he could do the same, and both kids laughed with delight.
Temo caught my eye and gave me a sharp nod—an unspoken thanks. I returned the nod, and he headed back out to rejoin his teammates.
Some of the other dads broke away to say hi to their kids.
It was seriously cute, watching them melt and smile at their babies.
Most of the kids were fairly young—grade school age at oldest—and some were toddlers or infants.
It must’ve made a dad’s whole night, skating up to see his kids in their tiny Daddy jerseys, the littlest ones wearing earmuffs to protect them from noise and the cold.
I glanced at Jasmine, and my throat tightened. It wouldn’t be long before my own son would be stopping to see his baby at the Zamboni gate. I would definitely have to be there the first time, camera at the ready.
Maybe I should see if Taylor wants to be here for that.
Though our divorce hadn’t been anything remotely amicable, my ex-wife and I had worked hard in recent years to be civil.
We would never be close again, or even be friends, but in the months leading up to our eldest’s wedding, we’d agreed to bury the hatchet enough to not make their events about us and our bullshit.
I thought we’d done a pretty good job of that.
There was no reason we couldn’t manage a hockey game together, especially if it meant we both got to watch our son seeing his own son through the Zamboni gate like this.
I tucked that thought away for later. I’d run it by Chris, then check with Taylor. For now, I shifted Mito onto my other hip, which he didn’t seem to mind, and we kept watching warmups and the father-children interactions.
I’d been so wrapped up in seeing the guys say hello to their kids, I’d all but forgotten there was someone in this building who had me in a chokehold.
Then he skated past the gate, and suddenly…
God. Liam.
He didn’t see me. He was handling a puck and maneuvering between teammates, and he didn’t pay attention to those of us beyond the glass. Fine by me—that gave me a chance to drink him in and try to find my equilibrium.
Wow. That wasn’t just the hot hockey player who kept catching my eye. I’d hung out with him. I’d made out with him in his kitchen, however briefly. I’d texted and FaceTimed with him at every opportunity since.
All the air rushed out of my lungs. I’d slept with people before and been able to act completely normal around them the next day.
Hell, I’d hooked up with a co-worker a couple of years ago; not always the smartest thing to do, but neither of us had been the other’s superior, and we’d been completely professional come Monday.
On the other hand, I’d been able to behave like a consummate professional around her before we’d hooked up.
We hadn’t been circling or pining after each other.
Friday night drinks had turned into Friday night and Saturday night in her bed, and then we’d moved on with our lives.
I don’t think any of our coworkers had ever even caught on.
Liam? I hadn’t been able to breathe right around him since day one. Going back to normal wasn’t going to happen because I had never been normal around him.
And now I’ve had a taste but I can’t touch you again. Fuck my life.
On the ice, Liam swung around at the blue line, waded through some of his teammates, and tucked the puck beneath the goalie’s left pad. He kept on skating, following the curve of the boards around toward the Zamboni gate.
As he glided by, he glanced through the gate, and I felt it the instant he locked eyes with me. I thought he almost lost an edge.
My heart stopped. His lips parted. So did mine.
I didn’t lose my grip on Mito, of course. He stayed firmly attached to my side, his little fist holding a handful of my suit jacket.
But apart from holding on to him and keeping myself upright, my entire focus had concentrated itself right… there. On that amazing man whose kiss was never far from my mind, and who’d left me horny for more.
Do you have any idea how much I want you?
Thank God, Liam found the willpower or professionalism or—I don’t know, something, and he broke eye contact and kept skating. He probably went looking for another puck.
I pushed out a harsh breath, realizing a second too late it was probably louder than it should’ve been.
No one seemed to notice, though. The kids were all banging on the glass and shouting at their dads. The moms were all focused on the kids and the players. No one—no family members, no fans, and thank God, no cameras—seemed at all interested in me.
Liam still skated the way he always did, making it look as easy as breathing, but whenever he stopped, he seemed off-balance. Rattled, maybe. He seemed to be struggling to focus on the puck, on his teammates, on the warmup routine.
It reminded me a little of how he’d been at that first practice after I’d moved to Pittsburgh. When he’d seen me in the stands, and then afterward, he hadn’t really been playing like himself. Had that been because of… me? Because that was before we’d ever touched.
Before we’d shared a long look in his car after he’d driven me home on Thanksgiving.
Before he’d invited me to his place to “watch hockey.”
He paused by the boards on the opposite corner, watching some of his teammates.
And then…
Tentatively…
He slid his gaze toward me.
For a second time, our eyes locked.
He gulped. So did I.
Oh, God, I was so fucked.