BETTSY
“Good news?” I turn towards Ellie, my hands still in the washing-up bowl. Since she cooked, it makes sense that I do the washing up while she made a few phone calls.
She walks over to the table in the corner of the kitchen, setting her computer down first, followed by her phone.
“Yep. So, Megan has a chair she’s happy for me to rent. And she said I can start whenever I’m ready; I told her about my sister, and I think she felt a bit sorry for me.”
“Or she knows how great you are and what sort of clients you’ll attract to her place,” I say.
I pull my hands from the water and dry them on a tea-towel before turning to face Ellie.
“Or she’s just helping out an old friend. It’s been ages since I’ve seen her. I’m terrible at keeping in touch with people,” she says.
“Same. If I didn’t see the guys every day, I don’t think I’d stand much chance, either. And it’s not for lack of wanting, just … things take over. Days slip by.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” She pauses then reaches for her phone. “And I’m just waiting for confirmation from Jenna, about her hair trial.”
“Oh yeah? That’ll be good.”
“She mentioned something about this weekend. And the possibility of coming to your playoff game or something.”
She flashes a look in my direction, her eyes twinkling in a way that has me rushing towards her, scooping her into my arms, taking in a blend of perfume and her freshly washed hair.
“Mike—stop.” She laughs, and I feel it everywhere.
“But I’m excited. It’s playoffs, baby! Playoffs!”
“I don’t know what that means,” she says as I set her down .
“Oh, sweetheart—you have a lot to learn.” I run a hand over my beard. “This doesn’t get properly cut. Just know that. Not until we’re done.”
“Is this a tournament or something?” she asks.
Damn, honestly. Ellie’s naivety surrounding hockey is refreshing. I get to build up the excitement, get her as revved up as I am. Give her a view from my lens.
“It’s the ultimate tournament. No room for mistakes. No room for anything that’s not the best hockey we’ve ever played. We’re not just playing for the joy of winning…” I pause for effect. “… we’re playing for the cup.”
Ellie blinks at me. “I thought you played for one of those before? The?—”
“No, no, no. This is different. It’s an emotional attachment. It’s all or nothing. It’s gritty, it’s—everything I love about hockey.” I can feel my heart racing in my chest—the very talk of playoffs sending me into a frenzy. “It’s why we work hard all year. It’s why we play through injuries and?—”
She gasps. “You don’t play through injuries, do you?”
“Sometimes,” I shrug. “Look, you’ll get it once you’re there. The atmosphere is electric. It’s just … playoff hockey.”
Ellie smiles, reaching for her phone.
“Well, speaking of playoffs … Jen has added me to a group chat and there’s talk about playoff jackets?” She wrinkles her nose in confusion.
“Lemmie see.” I take the phone and scan the screen. “Oh, the ‘WAG’ group. Lucky you. I ought to tell you, even though my sister should officially be the boss—being the captain’s girlfriend—Vicky calls the shots.”
The reminder of my feud with Vicky springs back into the forefront of my mind.
“What are the jackets for, though?”
“Well, all the wives and girlfriends usually get matching jackets or something. Team logo. Their guys’ name on the back. It’s a playoff thing,” I say .
“Oh, right.”
Ellie’s eyes are down on her phone as she scrolls through the chat, messages flying in every few seconds.
“Do you … uh, do you think you’ll wear a jacket?”
It’s a loaded question and I’m desperate to hear her reply, though she’s still wearing the rings I gave her. They could well be a leftover prop from last night—but the jackets? Those are a public display of affection. Those tell everyone the story.
“Wait—actually, don’t worry.” I chicken out. She’s still here, still wearing the rings, and I’m not ready to test how fragile this all is.
“Mike—”
“Kitch, actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” I say, concluding that this needs to happen now because if she’s going to call it a day, then she needs to do it now, before the playoffs.
“Is everything okay?” she says, catching my eyes.
I dip my head.
“I—I just want to know where we go from here, I guess. Because the event was last night and … I still need to look for the certificate and, if I’m honest, I’ve been putting it off because I’m afraid to find out the truth.
” I exhale, running a hand through my hair.
“I’m … I really like you. And I want you to tell me now if this is … it, I guess. Because I can’t bear it.”
I think about the look she gave me. Post sex, sexy eyes looking at me. I think I know what she was saying, but that little voice in the back of my head is?—
“Mike,” she says. “Come here.”
I step forward.
“Hug me, please.”
And I do. Wrapping my arms around her and breathing her in.
“I’m going to wear the jacket. And whatever the certificate says, when you pull your finger out and find it, we’ll deal with it. Okay? ”
She peeks up at me and I see that look again. The warmth in her eyes that makes me want to score all the goals for her—defensive defenceman or not.
And she just made me the happiest guy on earth—at least for the evening.
It all comes crashing down several hours later after we’ve drank tea, watched a game show, and revealed our favourite jokes. We’re in bed and I’m in the best place in the world. Right between Ellie’s legs, making her come over and over again.
The vibrating starts. Confusing me at first, but when it stops and starts again, I realise it’s my phone, shaking against the wood of the bedside table.
But I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. I’m busy.
Ellie giggles, trying to push my head away, mumbling something about feeling sensitive, so I back off as my phone vibrates again.
Third time’s a charm.
Ellie grabs it and hands it to me, and I glance at the screen to see Hutch’s name.
Icy dread fills my stomach.
“Yeah?” I say, still halfway down the bed.
“You going to be home soon, mate?” he says flatly.
“I was going to head back tomorrow for practice,” I say.
“Well, it’s probably a good idea that you get home tonight. Like, as soon as you can.”
“I’m a little busy?—”
“The police are here, mate.”
The words land like a puck to the groin. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Ellie sits up beside me, eyes wide.
And just like that, the best night of my life is over.