Chapter Fifteen
Bodhi
There’s a lot of things I don’t understand in life.
Like why parallel parking is part of the driving test when very few people probably do it after, or why the school system prioritizes algebra over learning how to balance a checkbook, or why the government requires everybody to get a real ID as if the IDs most of us have had our whole lives aren’t “real” enough.
But one of the mysteries I’m not sure I’ll ever grasp is why a murderous feeling came over me when I found out that Honor Erikson was married. What does take over my body is a desire to put my fist into the asshole who clearly didn’t know what he had when it was right in front of him.
There’s a possessiveness I feel toward her that I have no right to, and I know it. Accept it, even. This goes beyond that.
Unfortunately, I don’t know who this Max dude is, where he lives, or even his last name.
It stewed in me as I sat out our game against California to pay out the penalty for missing practice to care for Gemma.
That left a lot of time to brew in the unwarranted anger I felt for a complete fucking stranger without a way to let it out.
Which is why it’s unfortunate that one of the players on Seattle’s team just so happens to be named Max. He gets the brunt of my frustration taken out on him during our second away game. The unnecessary aggression radiating through my body sends me to the penalty box.
Twice.
I know if I’m not careful, I’ll be sitting out for the rest of another game too. And for what? A guy I don’t even know. A guy I’ll never meet?
No.
I’d do it for her.
And the intense buzzing occurs under my skin that feels like an electrical charge that only solidifies that notion.
Focus, I remind myself after Coach Erikson gave me a stern talking to the second time I got put in the box. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but get it the fuck out before you screw us.”
He’s right. I’m not going to fuck over the guys just because I’ve been irrationally pissed off over somebody I’ve never met before. If I cost us another victory, I won’t forgive myself.
During the last period of our game against the Krakens, I let out everything I have pent up inside me.
Anger. Disbelief. Sexual frustration. I know damn well I won’t be doing anything in regard to my last problem, save a cold shower and my hand around my cock tonight.
It’s the same thing I’ve done since feeling Honor’s mouth so close to mine.
The same thing I did when she brought over soup, and I wanted to kiss her right there in the foyer.
I’d been close—too close. And I’d never come as hard as I did in the shower that same night with her waiting for me downstairs, thinking about taking her against the wall.
I release all of that onto the ice.
I assist with one goal.
Make a second one.
And almost help with a third before I’m slammed into the board by a defenseman who I may or may not have tormented during the first half of the game solely because of his name.
I’m not paying attention to him, though.
My eyes are on the girl squatting down and snapping photos of my teammates.
The girl who I sat next to on a plane two days in a row.
Except, when we left California for Washington, our trip was much quieter.
We didn’t talk about baked goods or our past. We barely talked at all.
I wanted to break the silence—ask how she slept or how her first away game went.
But I couldn’t get past the image of her in a white dress letting some other man put a ring on her finger. Letting someone else kiss her.
The anger is back. Ugly and dooming as I clench my fists around my hockey stick.
Honor slowly turns to me as she lowers her camera as if sensing my gaze. Maybe she can feel me unraveling before her very eyes. It’s not the first time I’ve felt them on me. I’m always hyperaware of her gaze when it lingers. Curious. Intense. Dangerous.
To know that someone had her, and let her go, is mind blowing to me. I wanted to ask why. I wanted to ask who made the call. I wanted to know if she was over him.
Because if one text message can make her face dim, what would an entire conversation highlighting their marriage do?
The second she started frowning, I wanted to make it better.
I wanted to hug her. Tell her it would be okay.
Get rid of that faraway, lost expression that haunted those caramel hues.
I’d wanted to track down that fool, punch him in the face, and tell him to never talk to, or think of her, ever again.
For obvious reasons, that’s not going to happen. Even if the fantasy playing in my head is alluring enough to make me consider the possibility of getting his last name and using my flight miles to get wherever he is.
But I won’t.
All I can do is be…better.
Better than him.
Better than whatever she’s experienced.
Better for her if she’ll let me be.
It isn’t hard to tell she has some level of mistrust toward people, so that’s the first step.
I’m not sure how I’ll do that, but I’m going to find a way. Even if that means spending most of my spare time in the kitchen trying to bake my way to her heart, one batch of brownies at a time.
If that’s what it takes, so be it.
Honor lifts her camera in my direction.
I wink and grin.
She smiles and blows my damn heart away.
I always thought Gemma’s smile was the only one that could nearly bring a grown man to his knees.
But I hadn’t met Honor yet.
*
While everybody else celebrates our victory in the hotel bar, I’m in my room videochatting with Gemma until she ditches me for some kids’ movie that holds her attention better.
I’m not offended. It’s late, and our back-to-back game schedule means we’ve been on the go since leaving New York two days ago.
I’m exhausted, pent up, and a slew of other things.
What I should do is stay in my room and get some much-needed sleep since we’re supposed to be on a plane at the ass crack of dawn to head home tomorrow. That isn’t what I do, though.
There are only two other people that I know who aren’t downstairs drinking, and one of them has a room three doors down from me. I knock on Honor’s door with a handful of snacks I snatched from the vending machine by the elevators.
She’s hesitant to answer, probably checking the peephole and wondering what I’m doing here after unintentionally giving her the silent treatment on the plane.
But when she does…
God damn.
Maye this was a bad idea.
Because the first thing I see is legs.
Two bare legs exposed in a pair of plaid pajama shorts that are bordering indecent. I’ve never considered myself a sock man, but the knee-highs she’s in do something to me.
They do a lot.
My voice comes out raspier than I want it to when I say, “Do you normally answer the door wearing that?”
I’m almost afraid to lift my gaze up to her face. Not only because I’m blatantly checking her out, but because I don’t trust what my eyes will do when they graze past her chest.
And—yep. I’m sporting a semi the second I see the faded Rangers tee she’s wearing. It’s the same one she had on the day we met at the aquarium. Except she was wearing a bra then, and she is most certainly not wearing one now.
Honor doesn’t call me out for staring because her focus is on the various bags of snacks I’m cradling. “I have a rule. Once my pajamas are on, nothing can get me to take them off.”
That sounds like a challenge I want nothing more than to accept. The only thing sexier than her in those little shorts is seeing what they look like being peeled down her thighs.
Honor has no idea what’s going through my head, which is probably a good thing. “I just saw you eat almost an entire pizza by yourself, plus half a dozen wings, two garlic knots, and three of Sebastian’s mozzarella sticks. How do you have room for all of that?”
I’m still thinking about what it would look like if I bent her over the side of the bed in nothing but those knee highs when I realize I need to reply.
Clearing my throat, I adjust the bags of chips in my arms. “I’m a growing boy who burns at least two thousand calories a game.
Trust me, I’ve got room for a few more things. ”
I’ve got room for a lot, I almost add without food on my mind.
“Can I come in?” is what I say instead.
Her grip remains on the door. “Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else?”
I’d heard Doberman invite her to join them, and I nearly bit his head off.
He was probably just being nice since the guys were making plans on when and where to meet while she was walking with us, but still.
I don’t like anyone making a move on Honor.
I don’t like them looking at her or thinking they have a chance.
They don’t. Not a chance in hell. Not if I can help it.
“Didn’t feel like it,” I explain casually. She’s the only person I want to spend time with, but I’m not sure she’s ready to hear that. “I was thinking we could watch a movie instead.”
She blinks at me.
“Together,” I add, as if she isn’t sure what I mean. I lift the food in my arms higher. “I’ve got snacks. And there are sodas in my back pocket.”
I turn to show her the two cans of Pepsi I managed to stuff into the pocket of my jeans.
When I turn around, I give her a hopeful smile. Her eyes are still on the lower half of me. Except now, they’re on the minor bulge that I sincerely hope my jeans are hiding. The second she realizes what she’s doing, she snaps her head up with pink tinted cheeks.
I don’t teaser her for it. “So…movie?”
She nibbles her bottom lip and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Damn do I really like those socks. I’m a leg man. And an ass man. And a boob man. I’m an everything that involves a beautiful woman kind of man.
“I didn’t think…” She stops herself. “You seemed upset with me after we talked about Max. I thought I said or did something.”
I’m a fucking asshole for making her think that all because I couldn’t process my feelings.
“You didn’t do anything,” I reassure her. “We can chalk it up to primal urges and neanderthal shit that I had no right feeling toward the situation.”
Her brows pinch.
Do I bother elaborating and risking her turning me away or shutting down? I’m not sure I want to take the chance. “I was being stupid,” I apologize. “And it had nothing to do with you.”
She watches me for a moment to gauge how genuine I am. “Which movie?” she eventually asks, her guard coming down a little.
Hope blossoms in my chest. “You pick.”
I’m not sure what she’s thinking as she nibbles her bottom lip, but whatever it is must be convincing enough for her to step aside.
“This room sucks,” I note after dropping the snacks onto the bed and peeling back the curtain to study the alleyway below us that has dumpsters and graffiti spraypainted on the wall. My room is on the opposite side of the hall with a cityscape view of Seattle.
Honor shrugs. “I’m not exactly top priority. They probably gave you guys the better rooms to kiss your butts.”
I can see the Space Needle and the water that spans the horizon. Now that it’s dark out, the city is lit up and giving my view a pretty glow. “We can watch a movie in my room,” I offer.
She makes a face. “Why? It isn’t like we’re going to be paying attention to the window. Unless you have two beds, since…”
Her words fade as she studies the one singular king mattress in the middle of the room. That much is the same as mine. “Sorry, only one bed in mine too. But it’s big enough if you’re worried about me crowding your space.”
Honor’s face grows redder. “It’s not that.” Her shoulders slump a fraction. “Okay, maybe it’s a little of that.”
I nod once. “If I make you uncomfort—”
“No!” she says quickly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
“No. You don’t. I…It’s…” Her groan is quiet as she pinches the bridge of her nose and opens her eyes.
“I’m not sure how I feel when I’m around you.
We flirt. Or, at least, you flirt. And I don’t hate it.
Not as much as I should. That makes me nervous. Being around you puts me on edge.”
The admission only makes the sensation under my skin spread.
“Honey, you aren’t the only one. But I promise I’m here to watch a movie and eat an ungodly amount of sugar and processed red dye that will probably kill me earlier than most humans.
That’s it. You can build a pillow fort between us if that would make it easier. ”
She rolls her eyes. We both know a pillow fort isn’t going to stop whatever is lingering in the air between us. I’m just glad I’m not the only one who feels it.
“What do you say?” I ask her, staying where I am a healthy distance away.
She takes a deep breath and walks over to the bed, picking up the remote control from where it rests on the nightstand. Puck is curled up in a ball on the corner of the mattress and only picks his head up for a few seconds to see me before laying it back down.
“Poor guy is tired,” she notes, running her fingers over his short coat and sitting beside him.
“Travelling takes a lot out of me too.”
She seems interested in that. “You’re not used to it? You do it all the time.”
“And I usually crash when I get home.” That isn’t as common since having Gemma in my life, but I get a nap in when I can.
“Why aren’t you sleeping now?”
I answer honestly. “Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”
All she does is stare at me for a solid minute before settling onto the left side of the bed and stretching her legs out. I’m tempted to ask if she wants to change, mostly for my benefit, but I don’t.
Which means I’m about to spend the next two hours doing my best not to stare at every inch of exposed skin on her. At least it’ll give me new images to jerk off to when I’m alone.