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I pull her onto my lap for a deep kiss that leaves us both gasping. “Too late,” I say. “I already am.”
With a laugh, she scrambles off. Her lush body is on full display, making my cock rise. But she quickly pulls her clothes on and rests her fists on her curvy hips. “Let’s get back. We can have dinner tonight. If you have time, that is.”
I jump up and swing her into a hug. “Always,” I say.
But it will have to be a late one. After the game, after I shower and get past all the excited fans. Also, it will have to be somewhere secluded so no one recognizes me. Taking deep breaths, I try to act like nothing’s bothering me as we head to the car and keep it up on the long drive home. My stomach is tied in knots as we head toward campus. I know that I have to come clean at some point, but I can’t lose her. Not now.
Word vomit threatens to spill from my lips, but I can’t just blurt things out while we drive. My conscience makes me want to tell her the truth, better she hears it from me. I know Harley may need time, because she’s sure to be a little upset.
On the other hand, I can’t miss the match. My future depends on it. Hockey is in my blood; I’ve never imagined my life without it before. But maybe all of this can just wait until after the game is over. She certainly won’t go, with her disdain for hockey and being on the outs with her dad, so that will buy me some time to put my thoughts in order.
Dinner tonight. I’ll tell her everything, the truth, my feelings for her, everything. Then we can start fresh. As we pull into town, I turn to smile at her, but she’s furiously texting with someone, a deep frown marring her pretty face.
When she senses I’m looking at her, she turns to me, and it’s clear she’s upset. “Is everything okay?” If it’s bad news, all I want to know is how I can help, or make things right.
“I don’t know,” she says, voice dripping with anger that stuns me. “Kenny told me the star hockey player is missing, and I was the last person seen with him. I guess there’s a big game tonight and my dad is pissed, not that I care about that.” She jams her phone at me, but all I see is walls of text. Looks like she’s been thoroughly filled in. “So, Scott. Is that why we raced back? Do you have a playoff game?”
Flicking on my blinker, I ease out of traffic and park on a side street a few blocks from Coach’s house. “I can explain,” I promise.
“I don’t see how,” she snaps.
Underneath her rage is hurt, and it slices me to the bone. If anyone else put that look in her eyes then I would tear them limb from limb, and knowing I caused her pain is killing me. I reach for her hand but she jerks it away, opening the door.
“Harley, please,” I rasp, hardly able to breathe. I’m losing her. “Let me take you to my place so I can really explain.”
She shakes her head, already half out of the car. I watch her stomp away, white knuckling the steering wheel to keep from running after her. I know her well enough, even after this short time, that forcing the issue will only make things worse. I’ll get her back. I have to, because she’s my life now. She knows it, too. She has to.
There’s nothing left but to head to the rink. I get there on autopilot and walk in like a zombie. A few of the guys snicker as I traipse past them into the locker room.
“Dead man walking,” one of them says.
I don’t react. I don’t care.
“Delany!” Coach roars from his office. Without flinching, I head in, staring at him, waiting for the outburst. “A little birdie told me you were last seen at a party with my daughter. Didn’t you listen to me when I said anyone who goes near my daughter is on the bench? Did you think I was fucking around? You’re out tonight. Don’t even bother suiting up.”
I’m too lost in images of the pain I caused her to give a shit about what he’s saying. I only shrug. “Good luck winning without me,” I say.
Benched? Fine. Gives me more time to find Harley to apologize. As I storm out of the rink, Coach’s hypocrisy boils in my blood. He doesn’t care about Harley, just his image. I know the anger that’s threatening to make me do something rash is really all aimed at myself, though.
By the time I get to Coach’s house, Harley isn’t there, or ignoring me despite my continued pounding and shouting. Maybe it’s for the best. I’m so pissed, I might bungle what I need to say, and she’s probably just as angry and not willing to hear.
It’s better we both cool off, so I head home. It’s the longest, loneliest night of my life, with only a few hours of fitful sleep. As soon as it’s a respectable hour, I go back to Coach’s house. She’s still not there, and Coach nearly bursts a vein, he’s so pissed I’d dare to show up. I can’t bother with him now. Harley is the only one on my mind.
A search of the campus turns up nothing, and I finally find the dickhead friend from the party on the quad. Harley assured me he’s nothing to her, but it still makes my fists clench that he thought he stood a chance.
“She’s gone,” he says smugly.
“What do you mean, she’s gone?”
His satisfied grin intensifies. God, I hate this little prick. “She changed her flight and went home early. She doesn’t want to see you ever again.”
I turn away, letting out a stream of curses. She’s really going to throw away what we could have had? Yes, I’m a hockey player, but she didn’t even give us a chance to figure it out. Hockey is important to me, but I can find a way to make sure she’s always my first priority. I can’t believe this is happening, or the pain that threatens to topple me.
“What in the fuck? Just because I’m a hockey player?”
“No, because you’re a liar,” he says, walking away.
I lean over and grip my knees. This is worse than a puck to the face. I can’t breathe.
