And that’s not as irritating as it should be.
11
Duncan
There areseveral places I could be this morning.
I could wake up Paisley with a bribe of breakfast if she’ll keep me company.
I could drop by any of my teammates’ or former teammates’ places to say hi.
I could hit a golf course. Leave town and head into the Blue Ridge Mountains for some hiking. Take a float trip.
Instead, I’m knocking on Addie’s apartment door.
Am I obsessed?
Yes.
But also, she saved me yesterday at the stadium. I owe her a thank you that’s more than dropping a hint-laden bomb that I’m hanging up my skates soon.
That definitive decision isn’t giving me the anxiety I’d expect.
Maybe because what I want to do after hockey is so crystal clear. Not all of it, but enough of it.
There’s a chance she won’t answer. Might not be home. Could be showering. I doubt she’s still sleeping.
She’s a morning person.
Being a morning person is a pain in the ass when your team plays until ten or eleven nearly every night, especially at the end of road trips when you get home after a red-eye.
If she were a player, her coaches and trainers would have something to say about her 6:00 a.m. wake-up every morning.
But since sheisa coach, nobody questions her early bird habits that sometimes require extra coffee.
My coffee-adoring and early morning-loving ass flipped her off a few times back in the day when she’d indulge in both while I was supposed to be sleeping later before or after a game.
And I do mean only a few times.
Weren’t many nights either of us stayed over with the other when baseball and hockey were both in season.
The lock clicks, and the door opens just wide enough for me to see two-thirds of Addie’s face.
Suspiciousdoesn’t touch the raw wariness lurking in her pretty brown eyes. Determination flows through my veins.
I will win this woman over.
I’ll prove to her that I can fit in her life.
And if I can’t, then I’ll know I gave it everything I had and I’m just supposed to be alone for the rest of my own life.
“Duncan,” she says.
Her hair is tied back in a ponytail that has me wondering how she managed it. Light makeup on her face—there’s something about her eyes and lips that pops. Not as much as at the auction, but she’s definitely wearing something. She’s in a black Fireballs polo, and I wonder if she had help getting that on too.
If she did, I’m jealous of whoever got to help. I want to be the one making sure she gets everything she needs.
I lift the insulated to-go coffee mug that I filled with a special order at what used to be her favorite coffee shop around the corner on my way over.
