Chapter 35 #3
“No, I’ve never thought about that. But I think you’re right. Did you ever feel that way when you were playing?”
“Sometimes. But hockey for me wasn’t about finding my Zen or leaving it all behind. If anything, I carried a lot onto the ice with me. I let my fear, my anxiety, fuel me. Control me. So the stakes felt higher. Even as a kid, it didn’t feel like play. It felt like work.”
I stroked his hand, intertwining our fingers. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. My experience has made me love coaching. The memories encourage me to make it fun. I want these kids to fall in love with hockey and being part of a team.”
It was pointless even trying to fight what I felt for him anymore. How could I not fall in love with him when he was being so introspective and self-aware?
“You’re doing a great job,” I said. “Those girls love you. And look at it like a do-over. You are the coach you wish you’d had. The coach who lets the kids be kids.”
He smiled. “Thank you for saying that. It means a lot.”
For a moment, we were locked in place, the crowded, noisy bar falling silent.
I studied him—the scruffy jaw, the intense dark eyes, and that damn vest—and realized that I was even more obsessed with the man beneath the gorgeous facade.
The sweet, earnest man who woke up every morning wanting to be better.
We could have stood there all night, never breaking eye contact. Except I was itching to head to the car and tear his clothes off.
Eventually, the spell was broken by a feminine voice. “Cole. Great to see you.”
I blinked back to the moment, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at a tall, athletic-looking woman who was rocking trendy baggy boyfriend jeans and a crop top like she’d stepped off the pages of Teen Vogue.
And she was throwing her arms around my husband.
Hugging him.
And lingering.
My stomach clenched. Why was she touching him? Even after he stepped out of her embrace, she kept her hand on his arm.
I blinked rapidly, unsure of how to proceed.
“Aspen, hi. What are you doing in Lovewell?”
She nodded at the stage. “My friend Lola is on the drums.”
I followed her line of sight to the small, angry-looking woman sitting behind the drum kit. Come to think of it, she wasn’t the usual drummer. But Jasper’s band had a rotating cast of musicians who popped in to play when they were in town.
Turning back, I surveyed this stranger, wondering who the fuck she was and whether I could throw her ass out into a snowbank. She was tall, but I’d been working out a lot and was pretty damn strong.
“You never called me.” She grabbed the front of his vest and yanked playfully. “I thought we’d hang out more.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a hint of hurt there too.
Rage ignited in my every cell. She touched the vest. That bitch touched the vest. Who did she think she was?
That’s all it took for me to push closer and put my arm around Cole’s waist.
He draped his arm over my shoulders and drew me in, kissing the top of my head.
“Willa, I want you to meet Aspen Clark. Aspen, this is my wife, Dr. Willa Savard.”
The woman extended a hand and gave me one of the firmest handshakes of my life.
“Congrats,” she said, though her awkward tone belied her well wishes. “I didn’t realize you had a wife.”
“We’re newlyweds.” I rested my head on his chest. I felt like an idiot, pawing him like this, but when the alternative was aggravated battery, it was the safest choice.
“Aspen’s a hockey player,” Cole explained. “We’ve trained together since we were kids. She was on the national team.”
“A few years ago,” she said with a wave. “Damn shoulder. But now I coach.”
The two of them chatted about hockey—I only understood every other word—while I sized her up.
She was pretty. And definitely sporty. From the stud in her nose to her sleek ponytail, she screamed I do push-ups for fun.
As I tuned out of their conversation, my mind wandered. Had they dated? Had sex?
The thought made my breath hitch. He’d said he was single when we were in Vegas.
But a guy like Cole? Well, who knew?
Lila had sworn up and down he’d never cheated. That he’d been a distant asshole. But I’d put a lot of trust in him when we entered into this arrangement.
Though I tried to tamp it down, jealousy ripped through me, making me doubt him. I may have never considered myself a jealous person before, but then again, I’d never been married to a ripped hockey god either.
I was a good girl, a planner. I was careful and precise. But I’d married Cole, become friends with him, developed feelings, and started sleeping with him. All in the span of three months.
What if I’d gone too fast? Ignored red flags? What if this was the kind of woman he wanted? The kind he would go for if he weren’t stuck with me for now?
I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, but my brain slowed as if I was drunk. I was nauseous and lost.
A whole slew of emotions swirled through me, and I had no idea how to manage them.
Because I’d never let myself experience this kind of connection, this intensity.
Love, my brain screamed.
I was in love with him.
Shit.