11. Sean
After yesterday, I am completely convinced that Astrid won’t show up for our morning run today. I get up anyways when my alarm goes off, yawning and dressing in the dark. It’s become routine now. And as much as I hated running before Astrid, I look forward to it now. I like being with her. Even the days we don’t run. We talk and laugh and she just… makes me happy.
And I ruined it all by kissing her. Fuck.
So much for not getting close.
It kept me up last night. The guilt and the fear that I’ve overstepped.
After we left the pool yesterday, she escaped to her part of the house and didn’t come out the rest of the day. I even tried texting her to see if she needed anything. She didn’t respond, and then offered some excuse for why she was too busy to text me back.
I don’t blame her. She’s right. I shouldn’t have done that.
My heart sunk when I realized she wasn’t coming up for dinner. I left enough for her in Tupperware in the fridge just in case she was waiting for me to leave before coming out.
It was the first night in a while I didn’t sleep well. I should really be getting as much sleep as possible while I can. The scrimmage is tonight, and it marks the start of our season. From here on out it’ll be nonstop physicality. And I’ll need as much strength as I can get.
By ten past our usual time, I’ve given up hope that she’ll show.
Then the soft sound of footsteps muffled against the carpet stairs gives way to a door creaking open.
Relief washes over me when I see her round the corner. Her hair is pulled back. Her face fresh and not swollen with tears. I don’t know what I expected. Hate maybe. Anger. But she gives me a tight smile before looking away.
She doesn’t hate me. I exhale. I can work with that.
“Do you want me to make you a coffee? We could just walk today and bring it with us?” It’s my attempt at a peace offering.
“I want to run,” she says, her voice flat. Her eyes avoid mine.
Oh.
The tension between us is palpable. Maybe it is just one sided. Maybe this is all in my head. I keep my thoughts to myself just in case, hoping to feel it out.
Our run starts off slow as usual, but Astrid’s stride pushes her slightly ahead of me. I jog faster. But so does she, constantly staying a few steps ahead. I assume so we don’t interact.
Fine by me. If I’m a mistake, that’s all she has to say.
I push down the anger that makes me feel. I’m not angry at her, I’m angry at embarrassing myself. This is exactly why I wasn’t supposed to get close.
The run stays heated despite the temperature dropping and the leaves around us turning yellow. Every time she looks back at me, I realize it’s just her way of letting me know that we’re about to run faster.
Harder.
By the end, this run becomes Astrid’s fastest two-mile time yet, and I have to leave for the arena, and neither of us talks about what happened yesterday.
“Hey,” I say as I try to catch my breath again. “You’re uh, you’re coming to the game tonight right? With Violet?” I feel a little nervous as I ask her.
“Yeah.” She puts her hands above her head. “I’ll pick her up from school and we’ll head over.”
“Okay, cool. There is that dinner after…” I let my sentence trail away. There is so much I want to say but don’t know how.
“Yeah, I’ll get us a snack before I bring her so that she doesn’t get hungry.”
Does she think I’m only interested in logistics? Or maybe that’s all she’s willing to discuss with me.
I swallow. “Right. So uh, I’ll see you then?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight,” she says, not bothering to look at me as she walks away.
It’s a strange feeling. Knowing that the next time I’ll see her is tonight after the scrimmage at the arena.
As much as I want to forget everything that’s happened between us, I find myself constantly distracted by my thoughts of Astrid. How she felt against me. How soft her kiss was. How uncomfortable it all seemed to make her the day after.
I’m an asshole. I hire her and invite her into my home and now she probably feels… I don’t know. Taken advantage of? Used? It makes me sick to think that my actions have made her feel bad.
I’ve fucked everything up.
I need to fix this. I consider texting her throughout the day, but this seems like something a text message can’t fix at this point.
I try to put it away in my mind. If I can’t fix it now, there is no use beating myself up over it. I need to get ready for the game.
I’ll have time to make things better tonight. That is, if I don’t fuck up this game too.
There is a mental countdown until the scrimmage. I’m anxious all day, desperately waiting for the clock to move closer to the scrimmage start. And when it finally comes, I find myself looking for her in the arena. My entire warmup is spent looking around for a glimpse of her.
Fuck, what is happening to me?
I take some warm-up shots on the goal, feeling Coach watching me. I can’t fuck this up. But I can’t focus either.
And then I see her. Thank god. She came. She really came. I find her with ease the moment she walks down the steps, Violet’s hand in hers, to find their seats. Our eyes lock. I feel a tug in my chest. It is undeniable, we have a connection.
It’s like I’m always aware of where she is. Like I can feel her presence. Especially tonight. She looks so beautiful, wearing my jersey as if she’s been my support all along. She admitted to not being a hockey fan, so I know she bought that. And for some reason, that makes my heart beat harder.
Violet, of course, is wearing her own kid sized Daniels jersey she was given when I first got drafted. She gives me a big, happy wave, and I return it, making her jump up and down in place, tugging on Astrid’s hand and pointing right at me. It’s a strange feeling, seeing them smiling together in the stands.
My girls.
Shit. That came out of nowhere. I tamp it down, forcing myself to get my head on straight as I skate to center ice.
Scrimmages are an important part of preparing for the NHL season. Practice is tough, don’t get me wrong, but the speed difference between practice and a full-on game hits you like freight train if you’re not ready. These guys are some of the world’s best athletes. And when the ref drops the puck, you better be ready.
Cory takes center ice. Connor and I flank him on either side. When the whistle blows, we win the drop, Cory taking control down the center and evading right. He passes to me. I weave through their defense, taking it to the wall and crossing a pass back over to Cory, who passes it to Connor.
Connor skates down the boards, stopping short then maneuvering right as their defender blows past him, missing their mark.
We set a good rhythm of steady attacks, finding where their holes are as we keep formation, passing to one another to keep the defense moving.
Connor charges the goal first, Cory sliding up behind him to follow the shot. It goes high. The goalie catches it with ease and tosses it away.
Their enforcer comes forward, towards us, but their movements are more hesitant. Nerves maybe. I think these guys are rookies too. Their number four carries the puck down the left side. He passes it to number eleven. Their forward feigns right, goes left, taking a shot. It goes wide of the net.
Michael, our defender, takes control.
The bit of fans in the arena cheer as we charge the goal. Connor is slammed into the wall. The puck soars free into the center, but it is picked up by Cory. He rounds the net. Takes a shot.
Goal!
We crash into him in celebration. I slap the top of his helmet as the other guys surround us.
I take several shots on goal tonight, but don’t make any, most going wide. I tap the ice with my stick as the ref blows the whistle, signaling the end of the match.
It’s not my worst performance. Not my best. I glance over at Coach Matt. He looks pleased though. A win one to nothing is better than a loss.
I can’t say the same for the assistant coach, Tommy. He looks disappointed, his arms crossed against his chest as he turns his back to us as we skate off the ice.
The coaches take their time, giving us feedback in the locker rooms. Doesn’t matter that there is a party waiting for us up above. Each of them makes sure that we absorb every word before letting us go.
The message is clear. This is our season, and there is nothing more important than that. Nothing.
I read Astrid’s text once we’re dismissed.
Astrid
On our way.
I don’t want to keep them waiting so I shower quickly, not bothering to spend the extra time to dry my hair. It is a new thing I’m still getting used to. My dark hair is longer on top than usual, the sides shaved shorter, but I haven’t cut it since I got called up, and I’m superstitious enough to not cut it.
It’s better than most guys’ superstitions. Connor said he wore the same socks for every game last year, without washing them. And that’s not even the worst I’ve heard.
I get off pretty easy if all I have to worry about is styling my hair a little bit in order to not look like a mop. Like I do right now. I run my hands through it quickly, twisting in the mirror to make sure it looks okay.
“Big date?” Cory asks, smirking at me.
“Fuck off. Do you have hair gel?” I ask. I comb at a particularly stubborn piece of hair that wants to stand up straight.
“Nah, when there’s no reporters, I don’t bring a lot. My future wife isn’t upstairs at this party.”
I snort. I’m not sure Cory’s future wife exists, but I keep that opinion to myself.
“What about you?” He pushes my arm when I don’t look at him right away.
I turn away from the mirror to face him. I’m tall, even by NHL standards. So when I look at Cory, I make sure to roll back my shoulders to stand at full height. “You know I’m not dating.”
He pulls a water bottle from the bag slung across his body. “Uh huh. I know that.” He points inward towards his chest. “The question is, do you know that.” He claps my shoulder as he walks away.
“Come on, man,” he calls back. “Let’s get food before the other guys go up there and eat everything. You look fine.”
Cory lets the conversation go once we’re in the elevator with Connor and Alex. Thank god. It’s stressful enough being the rookie. I don’t need extra attention.
I spent a lot of my minor league career with my name splashed all over social media sites and tabloid articles. Every night out. Every date. I didn’t mind when I was younger. Sometimes I even sought it out. But it’s the exact kind of attention I’m trying to avoid now.
The elevator doors open up onto the VIP level of the arena. The place is decked out in team memorabilia from seasons past with tables and a banquet style setup. There is no food ready to be served yet, despite my stomach grumbling. I check my watch. I guess we still have about ten minutes.
More people start to arrive, some from the players elevator, the rest I assume are the family members.
Cory brought his brother. I played with Cory in a minor league team at the start of my career, and as much as he can piss me off, it’s still nice to have a familiar face on the team.
I need all the friends I can get. It takes a lot of chemistry on the ice to make a good team. And having some of that muscle memory with Cory already has really worked in my favor.
Transitioning from the minor leagues has been easier than I would have imagined. Maybe it’s because of the guys. The coaches certainly help. A part of me worried that this would be too good to be true. It’s hard to imagine everything working out the way you plan, but my life seems to be doing just that.
“Hey,” I hear Connor say.
I look over to see him and Tanner walking this way.
“What’s up, man,” I say, shaking Tanner’s hand and then pulling him in for a hug. “They let you off work?”
Tanner snorts. “No. And it’ll cost me five billable hours, but who’s counting?” His smile is brittle.
Connor rolls his eyes.
Tanner is a bigshot corporate attorney. Connor really married up, and I make sure to remind him of that fact every chance that I get. I like Tanner a lot, mostly because he hates being around people as much as I do. But also because he doesn’t put up with anyone’s shit.
“God, I wish they’d hurry up with dinner. I’m starving,” Connor says.
I smell the food before I see it. The waitstaff walks around to serve appetizers and are nearly tackled to the ground as several large men rush to the food. Jesus. I shake my head.
I find a wide-eyed waiter with trembling hands coming out of a doorway and I snatch a handful of some kind of pastry puff, popping one in my mouth immediately.
It’s delicious. I pop in another one before Cory can steal the rest. And he does, shoving one after the other in his mouth before even swallowing.
“Charming,” I scold him.
“Yeah, well. I’m just trying to make you look better so that girl over there will stop staring and pick you.
I glance to the right to see what he’s talking about, and I spot Astrid. My body’s reaction is immediate. My heart thuds. My pulse quickens. It is like the adrenaline I get when I step on the ice, except slightly more terrifying.
“She is hot,” Cory whistles. The way he says it tells me all I need to know. He’s trying to goad me.
And it’s fucking working. I fist a hand in my pocket. He’s just trying to get me to react. He’ll get bored if I don’t.
“Want me to go over there and introduce myself?—”
“No.” I cross the space to Astrid in five steps, positioning my body to block hers from Cory as I hear him laugh behind me.
“Hi,” I say when I realize I’m staring at her again.
“H-hi,” Astrid says, her voice soft and breathy. She tilts her head back to be able to see me and the light catches her face.
To say Astrid is beautiful would be an insult. She’s stunning. A goddess. Astrid is the reason people believed in sun gods. Her golden hair and bright smile drawing people towards her like a gravitational pull. She’s kind and funny and just so… alive.
I shift uncomfortably. We still haven’t talked about the kiss. I absentmindedly run my thumb over my lips.
“Dad,” Violet comes running over to me and wraps her arms around my leg. Jake and Tanner are right behind her as I hoist her up into my arms.
“What’d you think? Did Dad play well?” I ask.
She wrinkles her little nose and looks up at me. “No.” She breaks into a wide grin.
That gets a laugh from my chest. I kiss her head and set her down again so that she can go back to playing with Jake.
“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Astrid says, not waiting for anyone to acknowledge her before she walks away.
“Uh, yeah, um, Tanner,” I say, craning my neck to see where she went. “Could you watch Violet for a second. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, sure.”
I walk in the direction that I saw Astrid go. She must’ve slipped down the hall that leads to the bathrooms. I turn a corner. I haven’t really gotten a chance to talk to her alone since that day in the pool and the longer we go without addressing it, the tighter the constriction is around my chest.
Even if all she tells me is to fuck off, at least I’ll have an answer, and I’ll know how she feels. And then I can go back to my normal life.
Not knowing is the worst part.
“Astrid,” I call into the emptiness. “Astrid?” She couldn’t have gone anywhere else.
She walks out of the women’s restroom and stops dead in her tracks when she sees me. “Sean?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Me? Going to the bathroom. What are you doing here?” She looks pointedly at the women’s restroom sign.
Right. The men’s is down the other hall. I scratch the back of my neck. “I, uh,” I laugh. There is no way to say this and not sound weird. “I was following you.”
She looks at me with wide, surprised eyes.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I start to explain.
“Oh yeah?” She smiles.
I let out an exhale of relief.
“I’m alright, Sean.” She doesn’t run away. She doesn’t look repulsed by me. Or afraid.
Thank god.
“Well, um, while I have you.” I realize I’m standing between her and the exit. I don’t want her to feel trapped, so I step the side. “I wanted to talk about the other day, if that’s alright with you?”
“I’m so sorry, I’ll never do it again.” Her cheeks turn pink and she stares at her feet. “I know it wasn’t professional, I uh- I misread the situation. I’m sorry.” Her words come out in a rush.
“You did it on purpose?” I ask, taken aback. This isn’t the conversation I was expecting at all.
“Yeah, and I know it was wrong. It complicates things, me living with you and stuff. I am so, so sorry.” She fidgets with her hands, still not able to look up.
“Astrid,” I say softly. Had I known this was what she thought, I would’ve talked to her sooner.
“Yeah?”
“Look at me.”
She hesitates, taking a deep breath. “Sean, I’m so?—
I push her back against the wall, pinning her hips with my body as I grab her face between my hands and bend to kiss her.
“Oh.” She’s startled. Her mouth is hesitant as my lips capture hers. And then she reacts. Her fingers dig into my body as she grips wherever she can reach.
I part her lips with my tongue, hungry, devouring her. I slip my hands into her hair, yanking her head back for better access to her, to dominate her.
I feel myself growing hard already. Dammit. My body reacts too quickly with her. I try to pull back a little, giving her space, but her fingers grip my shirt and yank me back against her.
I groan into her mouth and I swear she presses herself closer against me still.
I keep one hand tangled in her hair, allowing the other to tentatively stroke down her body. I trail my fingers over her waist, waiting for any sign that I’ve gone too far. But she only grows more passionate. Wild. Her teeth nipping at my lower lip, eliciting a groan.
She feels so good.
I inch my way over the small of her back. Then lower. Then lower still until I can’t resist it any longer and dig my fingers into her ass, squeezing hard.
God, everything about her body is perfect.
She startles, looking up at me with hooded eyes before she stands on her tiptoes to kiss me again.
I let her take charge for the moment, allowing her tongue the freedom to explore. But she presses her body against me and my restraint snaps.
I can’t get enough. I want to pick her up and take her into that bathroom. It takes everything in me not to.
I hold her tighter, kissing down her jaw to her neck, nipping at her skin as she stifles a moan. Kissing her feels like a need, no longer a want. She’s like the oxygen that keeps me alive. I can feel it in my chest. I need her. I need this.
When we break apart, it is too soon. We’re both breathing heavily. The world around us comes back into focus and I’m determined to find a way to slip away again. I run a hand through my hair, not caring what I look like.
Her already full lips are swollen. She stumbles slightly when I step back, and I steady her with my hand.
“That good, huh?” I ask. For the first time all day I feel light. Happy.
She looks at me sheepishly. “Yeah.”
“We uh, we should probably go back in, now that I know you’re okay.” Or we could stay here. But I can’t bring myself to push my luck, as much as I would like to.
“Yeah. I guess we should.” She hesitates though, as if waiting for me to come with her.
“I uh, I have to stay behind for a second,” I say.
She looks at me confused, and then she sees the problem. Her eyes growing wide as her mouth opens in surprise.
“Yeah,” I laugh. “And I’m going to need to stay away from you in order for this to get better.”
She looks surprised and then smug, her lips curving into a triumphant smirk.
I can’t help it. I pull her in for one last hug, kissing the top of her head. “You look good in my jersey.”
Astrid smiles against my shoulder, shrugging in my arms. “It’s a tax write-off.”
I let out a laugh against her hair and reluctantly pull away, giving her one final once over before finally releasing her.
“Okay, I’ll meet you back in there.”
I have to turn around to prevent myself from watching her walk away. The last thing I need is to stare at her ass. Fuck. I rub a hand over my face. That ass. God, what I would do to take her home right now again— I sigh.
This is going to take longer than I thought.