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No one says anything.
He takes my hand in his, lifting my wrist to meet his lips, he softly kisses the faint flutter of my heartbeat beneath my skin. Emotion begins to overwhelm me, but I refuse to cry. I wanted this. I got what I wanted. I have to believe that despite the conditions of our agreement, everything else will come in time.
We have time.
Chapter Thirteen
Damien
Game three.
It’s tied up and there are only seconds left in the third period.
We lost last night. We played hard, but they played harder. It wasn’t enough. Tonight, decides our future this season. Emotions are running high on both sides.
She came.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m struggling to keep my head in the fucking game.
Gia’s wearing my jersey in the stands tonight, and it feels so good. She’s here for me. A fact I’ve been brutally reminded of both times Tyler’s scored on me tonight. Asshole.
We’ve played together our entire lives. Small things, things that most people wouldn’t pick up even after hours of studying film, he knows about my game. I guess he could say the same thing about me, but there’s only so much I can do and maintain my position. It’s doing me no fucking favors tonight. He’s on fire.
I have a feeling I know why.
I’m in love with his sister. It must be pouring off of me, and ricocheting off the ice directly in his face. Judging by the way he looks at me every time he gets near me? He knows it. I know it. Truth be told? I’ve known it for a long time. Too long.
The only person that doesn’t know it is the woman that sits in the stands tonight wearing my number, watching the game behind the lens of her camera. I thought this weekend would be a one-and-done thing. I thought we could purge this from our systems and go back to the way things were.
That’s a fucking farce if I’ve ever heard one.
We can’t. I don’t want to move backward. I’m never giving her up. It’s not happening, and that’s all there is to it. I just don’t know how to tell her, and I’m terrified of the repercussions of confessing my feelings to her after I was so adamant that we could do this and maintain what we had before.
Seconds tick down on the clock. Jesus, who the fuck gave this asshole the puck again? Tyler skates toward me for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. He lines up the shot, and I prepare to block it. His eyes lock onto mine. He hesitates. The fuck? He hasn’t hesitated all night. Something is off.
The arena rumbles around us. I drown out the noise and try to focus on watching the puck with the precision I’m known for. We’re so damn close. We can save this trainwreck in overtime, if only I can…
Fuck. He’s going right. I feel it. I stay quick on my feet and wait for his move. He’s going to run out of time. He pivots. Shit.
He takes the shot over my left shoulder, and I’m fast but not fast enough. The puck finds the pocket and I miss it. The buzzer sounds, and the feeling of defeat washes over me.
Was I distracted? Is this my fault? Did I let my emotions slow my game tonight? Last night?
What’s different?
This loss sits on my shoulders. My head was in the stands, not in the game where it should have been.
The crowd erupts into complete anarchy.
That’s when I see him. He’s waiting for me.
I skate out of the net, preparing for a moment that was always inevitable. He wants this, fine.
If we’re going to do this, let’s do it. It’s better we do this here and leave it all out on the ice. I’m not taking this back to Gia; she doesn’t deserve that.
“You’re hurting her, Tyler,” I say through a clenched jaw.
I pull off my helmet and drop it to the ice at our feet as I approach him. I’m pissed. I want him to see it. I want him to look into my eyes. I’m pissed that we lost. I’m pissed that Gia was here to see it. I’m pissed that he knew I was going to think he was going right, so he went left.
