I rip it open right there at the door. Three sapphire blue and black Bruisers Jerseys. Big bold letters spell out Bridges. 24.
I bite my lip, squeezing the fabric in my hands.
The possibility of how Tate might react has my toes prematurely curling in my fuzzy socks.
What could it hurt?
I ran up the stairs, grinning like a teenager.
******
“Do you see Dad?” Matty asks as we make our way to the seats. Instead of sitting up in the family box, the boys and I are sitting down close to the ice in Ronan's family seats. A lot of the tickets the players get to pass out to friends and family are seated next to each other. I recognize some of the faces around us.
Some friendly, some not so much. particularly Tony’s wife Amanda and her sister Ashley. Started out as puck bunnies and just as they planned, are stay at home wives with unlimited access to the AmEx.
Nothing wrong with that, except for the mean girl energy they give off in droves. I see them making sideways glances at us and whispering before we even take our seats.
I take a deep breath and ignore the unease that settles in my chest when I’m around girls like them. Especially considering these two specific girls knew all about TJs… indiscretions through his friends on the team.
Still, I found out about the whole thing through the ongoing texts to one of the women. I rub the spot on my chest that aches just from remembering one in particular.
I bought my wife the same perfume so I can smell you around the house all the time.
Emalyn had threatened to do a variety of bodily harm on my behalf once I’d shared my findings. While I was grateful, I just wanted to run far away.
“Mom! Can you take a picture of Matty and Me in our jerseys with the ice behind us?” Hudson calls, bouncing with excitement. He’s come to these games plenty to support his Uncle Ronan, but his excitement is palpable tonight. I think it has everything to do with having Matty here with him.
I snapped a few pictures. My favourite ones are when their faces are lit up as the players enter the ice from the tunnels.
My heart skips a beat as they do. I let out a shuttering breath, trying to exhale the nerves.
The Bruisers take a lap around the rink on skates before they hit the ice for warmups.
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t my favourite part of the game. When I spot number 24 among the blue jerseys my heart stalls. He’s already looking right at me while he does his hip stretches.
I covertly fan my hearing cheeks.
To anyone else watching, he’s not necessarily doing anything inappropriate. To me though, assomeone who’s thought about what other talents he may have since he gifted me that insane orgasm... It’s absolutely filthy.
He does motions that look like thrusts into the ice. My imagination runs wild with the visual. I’ve been around hockey my whole life. I’ve watched and evenplayedin collegeuntil dropping out due to pregnancy. I know what they’re doing isn’t meant to be sexual.
ButTatedoing them? That man makes everything into a thirst trap. Especially as my mind goes to how he looked rubbing oil all over his abdomen during the calendar shoot, and how expertly he touched me in my kitchen. My fingers delicately touch the side of my mouth to make sure I’m not drooling.
He shoots me a wink. My stomach flutters. My cheeks flush even hotter. I have to glance away to give myself a chance to breathe.
I don’t notice him approaching until he taps the glass with his stick. My head snaps back up.
He tosses a puck over the glass. Matty catches it. He gets another and tosses it to Hudson. They hug them to their chests then high five.
Tate's eyes linger on me a beat before the whistle is called and he has to join his team.
“What? I’m just saying I love coming to the boy aquarium.” A southern voice giggles from behind me. I turn and see two gorgeous women comingdown the concrete steps towards the ice. A woman in her fifties or sixties with big curly hair and a trim waist swats playfully at the younger woman’s arm.
“Presley Ann Bridges. Honestly, Honey, I don't know where you even come up with half the stuff you say.”
My breath catches. Presley Bridges. Now that I look closer at them, they do bear resemblance to Tate and even Matty. Not to mention the southern drawl.
I fiddle with the butterfly pendant around my neck. Tate didn’t mention they’d be coming.
