Jessie
Kitty patted my shoulder. “He’s known for being a fighter. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“But Guy’s not,” I said, biting the inside of my lower lip to keep it from quivering. I was shaky from the coffee I had before the game so I could stay awake. Friday night games were not my favorite since I had work earlier in the day. But Ben always made it up to me if I came to his games. He’d let me sleep in and bring me a fancy coffee and make good breakfast.
Kitty stared ahead. “It’s probably just shit-talking that got out of hand. Guy got into one after he moved here because someone talked about me, though.”
The gears in my head turned. “But how would they know about me? I’m a nobody.”
Kitty’s face stayed blank, but she rubbed my shoulder. “It’s probably nothing.”
I knew she was lying. “His lip was bleeding.”
“I’ve known him a long time. He’s a tough boy.”
I pulled out my phone.
You okay? How’s your lip?
Benjamin Michael Jockey
Fine. Doesn’t need stitches
Probably won’t be a good kisser for a couple of days tho
* * *
I chewed my thumbnail waiting for Ben to come out of the locker room. I could have just met him at home, because I was pretty tired, but I was worried about him.
I could tell he was pissed by the set of his shoulders leaving the locker room. He gave me a weak grimace as he approached. Instead of his usual “hey, Sweet Cheeks” and a kiss, he just gave me a silent hug, cradling my head to his chest. I pulled back and looked him over: tired, defeated.
“You wanna go home?” I asked.
He hesitated. “It’s Obi’s birthday, and Dallas treated him pretty shitty on the ice. I should at least go for one drink. Will you come?”
I really wanted to go to bed, but Ben’s sad eyes would always break me. I took his hand and squeezed it. “Yeah, I’ll come.”
We drove my car to the bar. He was quiet but clingy. “You want to talk about it?” I offered.
“Nobody’s... contacted you about anything, right? Like no hockey people have reached out to you anywhere?”
My brow wrinkled. “Not that I know of. Why?”
He shook his head. “No reason.”
“Was your fight about me?”
We parked outside The Stadium, and he turned to me as I turned the car off. His eyes combed over my face. “No. No. But you’ll tell me if anyone bothers you, right?”
“Yeah. I’m alright, Ben. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m good as long as you are, Sweet Cheeks.” He leaned in for an attempt at a kiss, wincing as my lips brushed his freshly battered ones.
“Oof! Sorry!”
“It was worth it,” he said with a grin. “Let’s go give this kid a good twenty-first birthday.”
* * *
