“No,” he softly replied, waving a hand about over his head. “Just want you to spoon me.”
I whipped the wet cloth over my shoulder. He wiggled close when I slid under the blanket, the messy sheets balled up under us. I curled into his back, placed my palm on his belly, and breathed in the intoxicating smell of me, Finn, and sex.
“I hope you don’t have to go back,” he said sleepily.
I hoped not as well—mostly maybe—but that was out of my hands. And for now, this night, it was out of my head. Nothing existed but me and my lover.
Morning arrivedwith a flurry of notifications, sending my cell into a buzzing frenzy. Not since I’d been ten and poked at a hornet’s nest with a hockey stick had I heard such a steady drone. Thankfully, my phone couldn’t sting. The hornet’s nest was one of those life lessons we hear so much about.
Finn was snoring softly beside me, one leg out of the covers, his back bared to my sight. I bent down to place a kiss on that soft spot between his shoulder blades. He didn’t move. I did it again before wriggling the cover out from under me to cover him fully. I sat up, bleary-eyed, and picked up my phone.
There was a slew of messages that grabbed my eye, the first being a text from Harper with a meme of Bob Kelso fromScrubswith two thumbs up, both pointing at himself, reading, “Who got laid last night?”
I snort laughed. Finn mumbled something about corn dogs. Smiling to myself, I rose, found my pants lying on the floor, and stepped into them. With my phone in my hand, I replied to my sister with a GIF of Blanche fromGolden Girlsthat had ME TOO, GIRL on the bottom. I took a piss, washed my hands, and went in search of caffeine.
The kitchen was bathed in morning light, wintry and dull, as the sun was partially hidden behind snow clouds. I made my way to the coffee machine, started a pot, and went to stand on a round red throw rug in front of the sink to keep my bare feet off the cold linoleum.
Knowing I couldn’t pretend not to have seen the notice from the Vipers, I decided to deal with that first. The other texts from the art guys and a few dozen notifications from various hockey sites would wait. If this message from the GM in New York was what I thought it was going to be, the news lighting up my phone would be moot.
In typical Mike Gallows’ fashion, the call-up was short, sweet, and to the point. I was to report to the team today and be ready to play tonight. JFC. That wasn’t enough time to say goodbye to Finn and my sister and grab some clean underwear.
My phone read ten a.m., so yeah, time was ticking. A tiny thrill ran through me at the thought of being back in the Big Apple. Obviously, the Vipers had spoken to the head coach here and had gotten a good report about my progress with my off-ice issues. We all knew that on the ice, I was a fucking legend. Not my words, the words of my fave sports writer in NYC. If I could show the team that I was in control of my anger, this little callback might turn into a permanent spot on the roster. Stranger things had happened. I could very well be helping the Vipers secure a playoff berth if I kept my nose clean. Nothing was more damn exciting than playing to win the cup.
I was smiling when I heard a soft cough in the doorway. Glancing up from my cell, I saw Finn leaning on the doorframe, wearing one of my oversized Viper jerseys, fleece pants, and a fresh-out-of-bed tousled well-loved look that made me want to toss him right back into bed to rumple him a bit more.
“You look happy.” And the smile fell from my face. “No, hey, don’t do that.”
Looking into his sad brown-green eyes, most of the joy I’d felt about being called back faded with the sunlight as sleet began to pepper the window over the sink.
“I won’t lie to you.” I inhaled deeply, then let it out. “I’m going back to New York. I’m excited to go back, yes, but not excited about leaving you. Is there any way you could come with me?”
He shook his head. I had known it would be a long shot. “I have classes and obligations here.”
“Yeah, I know.” I tossed my phone onto the counter as sleet and snow whipped in over the lake. “It’ll probably just be temporary, babe. Once Lemanski is on the mend… ”
He gave me a quirky, sorrowful smile and pushed from the jamb to make his way to the throw rug. “It sounded pretty serious.” He reached up to cup my whiskery jaw. “You go play hockey. It’s the thing you love most in life.”
I put my hand over his and shook my head.
“No, the things I love most in life are you and Harper.”
“We love you, too. And we’ll be here when you get back.”
Such optimism. I admired that about him. “And if I don’t come back? Will you come to me?”
I knew Harper would. Or Ihadknown. If this thing with Connor got serious, would she move back to Manhattan? She was happy at the gym now, doing what she loved, signing up for bouts around the area. Should I expect her to pick up and trudgeafter me yet again? Shit. Okay, this call-up was quickly losing some of its initial shine.
“Let’s just take it a day at a time and see what happens, okay?”
That was the sensible thing to do. Asking him to uproot his life on a maybe or what-if scenario was inconsiderate. Playing it by ear. Yep, totally mature way to go. I hated being mature at times…
I nodded, turned my face into his palm, and kissed his lifeline. A line that I prayed would include me in it for years to come.
EIGHTEEN
Finn
Day twenty-nine.Four weeks and a day. A freaking lifetime, and I felt every second in my bones. My body ached with missing Walker every night I’d gone to bed alone, every time I opened the fridge and saw the stupid chili sauce he liked, or every time I hung up from our daily sitting-in-bed video calls.
