I will only admit to myself that I am decidedlynotgame ready. I’m not sure if I will be at all. What I want to do is go home and lock my woman up in my bedroom so she won’t board that return flight to Texas. I have a really bad fucking feeling about it all.
The impending doom that is surrounding all of this is hovering above me, above us, like a massive dark cloud. Clearing my throat, I shake my head a couple of times, then clear my throat again and tell Daniel that I am ready, even though I am undoubtedly not.
Standing up straight, I finish getting dressed in my uniform and head to the main part of the locker room for Coach’s meeting before the game. I only half listen, hearing the keywords I need, and then we break before I make my way out onto the ice to warm up.
I want to look up into the audience and see them there, but at the same time, if I do, I know without a doubt that I’m going to climb the glass and take them the fuck out of there. So, instead of that, I drop to my hands and knees and start to warm up my hips, dipping my head when I do so that I’m not tempted to look up.
The sound of the crowd begins to intensify as the seats slowly fill up while we continue to warm up, but as I slide the puck around, practicing and trying not to think about all of the things that are swirling around in the back of my head, pushing them to the back of my mind, I try to focus on one thing and one thing only.
The game.
The Calder Cup.
Hockey.
Using my stick, I flip my practice puck up and into my palm before I skate toward the glass. Clara and Wrenly are sitting together, the kids on their laps. Wrenly’s eyes meet mine, and I watch as her lips curve up into a smile.
Softly, I toss the puck over the glass. She catches it, and I dip my chin toward Ryan. She slips the puck into Ryan’s hand. I watch as he moves it around in his palm, then holds it up as if he’s just won some sort of prize, his slobbery smile taking over his entire face as he waves it around.
Placing my gloved hand on the glass, I shift my attention from Ryan to Wrenly. My lips curve up into a smile at the sight of her sweet fucking face. Yeah, I’m not going to let them be back in Texas for long.
I know it’s lightning fast, but this is what’s meant to be. I know it is. There is no other way to describe any of it. Wrenly was meant to be mine. Born and bred, presented to me for a reason, just like I was to her.
Our physical connection is too intense to deny that we are meant for one another, and now that we’ve found our way back together, there is no way I’m just going to pay child support and not try to work this out.
Wrenly and Ryan are meant to be with me, and I’m keeping them.
TWENTY
WRENLY
The last timeI watched the hockey game, I didn’t really pay much attention to what was happening on the ice. Sure, I looked for and watched Eli, but I had no skin in the game at all. Now, as I watch the players move around, their sticks and skates whipping around, I find myself sitting on the edge of my seat, a ball of nerves.
“He’s going to be okay. Even if he gets into a fight or something, they have all that gear on,” Clara announces next to me.
Tearing my gaze from the ice, I shift it to meet hers. “A fight?” I ask.
Her lips curve up into a grin. “A fight. Which is likely because there is a lot riding on this game.”
Just as she says those words, I hear a loud crash, and then the crowd starts yelling. Whipping my head around, I stare at the sight in front of me. It’s Eli slamming his shoulder into a player for the opposite team. He then slams his body against the glass and then pushes against Eli before he skates away.
I don’t like this. Not even a little bit.
I stare at the players moving around the ice, my body now filled with double the amount of anxiety that it was just moments ago, and try to breathe. My knee starts bouncing, and thankfully, Ryan enjoys the ride because I don’t think I could stop it if I wanted to. He squeals as the game continues, and my stomach clenches as each minute passes.
“He’s going to be fine,” Clara repeats, curling her fingers around my forearm. “I used to get really nervous, too. I’m better now, but I get it. Usually, my best friends come and watch the games with me, and it helps with distractions.”
“Where are they?” I ask, feeling like I could use those distractions right about now.
My words come out sharp, and I feel bad for that, but I’m so nervous that my entire body is on edge. I wish I could call out to Eli and ask him to go home because this is too much. Too much pressure, too dangerous, too scary, and too intense. Just too much of everything.
“They had stuff going on tonight. They’re usually here. But I don’t think they had their schedules cleared out for tonight ahead of time because these are the playoffs.”
“Do they not always make the playoffs?” I ask, trying to look away from the ice, but my eyes are focused on one man and one man only.
Abbott
Number fifteen.
