He ticks boxes I didn’t even know to put on my unwritten list.
Hell, he ticks more than boxes—he’s the most incredible guy I’ve ever known.
We haven’t used the words ‘I love you’ yet, but his behavior suggests that he shares my feelings. They say that actions speak louder than words and Bodi’s speak volumes. I just have to shore up the courage to ask him point-blank if he returns my feelings.
Or maybe I’ll just write him an honest-to-goodness love letter.
A letter that lays it all out there for him. What I want, what I need, and what I intend to give in return—especially if I don’t bring money to the table. In that case, it has to be about support. Making sure I do everything in my power to make his life easier, so he only has to think about hockey. And me.
I’d still like to work, even part-time, at least until we have kids.
Kids?
I almost laugh at the thought.
Are we really to the marriage and kids part of the program? We had a generic conversation about how we’d like to wait but I don’t know exactly how long.
I’m probably getting ahead of myself because I just got done thinking I don’t want to rush into anything until we’re both ready, but my heart—and regions further south—seem to have other ideas.
Unfortunately, the current situation with my father has me confused and slightly out of sorts. We knew it would be tricky to date behind Dad’s back, but the chemistry between us was too intense to ignore. Now it’s only getting more complicated.
We need to have a heart to heart.
If I love this man, and I do, I have to trust him with everything.
Including my heart.
Otherwise, what’s the point?
Considering the risk he’s taking professionally, the least I can do is lay it all out for him.
So that’s what I’ll do tonight at dinner.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Bodi
The arena is quiet when I get there. I try to arrive before most of the other guys so I have a little time to get in the zone. Sometimes it’s hard to switch from thoughtful, attentive boyfriend to focused professional athlete. Some of it is second nature after so many years, like putting on my equipment, stretching, things like that.
The mental part is completely different. It was easier in L.A. because I had Blake and even though I’d been playing for the team’s minor league affiliate for most of my career, I’d been part of the organization as a whole for a long time.
I don’t have that familiarity here, so I like having a little down time to get my head on straight. Especially when dealing with someone like Coach Morrison.
There’s a lot of activity even this early, since the trainers and equipment managers have a lot to do before the team arrives. The door to Coach Morrison’s office is closed, and there’s someone in there with him, so I hurry past it, glancing in just long enough to see him having a lively conversation with Blaze.
God only knows what that’s about.
I keep moving, trying to shake off this weird feeling of doom, like something bad is going to happen. My intuition usually doesn’t steer me wrong, so I don’t know why my body feels like it needs to be on high alert.
I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’m in love with a woman that’s essentially off-limits to me. I keep trying to think of a way for us to be together—openly. I waffle between wanting to talk to Coach man-to-man, and calling my agent and telling him to get me traded. I don’t know what to do and there really isn’t anyone to talk to other than Billie.
Do I want to get traded again this soon?
Not really.
I came here for a fresh start.
