Sasha sighs and runs a hand through her long blond hair. “Yeah. Trey’s father isn’t going to think so. He’s counting on Trey to add a boy to the hockey legacy.”
“Ouch.” Jessie gives Sasha a sympathetic smile. “My father was the same way. He was devastated he had three girls. I wonder if he’d have stuck around to raise us if we were boys who could fulfill his second chance at a hockey career.”
“Your dad wanted to be a hockey player?” I hadn’t meant to speak but I had to.
“Jessie’s father is Drew Caplan,” Audrey announces, her eyes narrowed in on me like a teacher giving a child a life lesson. “He played for Sacramento, was considered one of the best in the league, before a car crash shattered his leg.”
“A drunk driving accident,” Jessie clarifies. “My father had demons. Probably still does, wherever he is. But thankfully, that’s not my problem.”
I stare at her. She sips her drink, and the waitress shows up with our meals. As she places them all on the table, Jessie glances over at me. “You looked miserable out there on the ice during the ceremony. I’m guessing your hockey dad is no treat either?”
I nod. Wow. I did not in a million years see this coming. Jessie Caplan’s dad was a hockey nightmare like my own. I suddenly feel like maybe Jessie is exactly who I want in my life. But I still don’t know why, if she saw the darker side of hockey, she is about to marry a player.
The conversation turns to talk about the rest of our day—what everyone is looking to buy, what color nail polish we’ll get for our pedis. But every time Audrey looks at me it’s with a knowing smirk. Then, as she looks up at me as the waitress clears our plates and Audrey and Sasha talk about a new store in the mall they want to check out, I turn to Jessie and say softly, “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit of a bitch to you.”
Jessie smiles easily. “You haven’t been. You’ve just been kind of distant.”
“I may have stereotyped you without knowing how much we have in common. I’m sorry.”
“I get it. My sister even accused me of being a puck bunny when we were kids and I first hooked up with Jordan,” Jessie says and reaches across the table to give my hand a squeeze. “You can make it up to me by including me in the next girls’ day.”
“For sure,” I agree happily. Thank God she’s willing to cut me some slack.
I glance up and notice Audrey’s doe eyes glued to something over my shoulder. “Is that Sebastian?!”
I spin around and my eyes land on Frenchie, who is at a table across the restaurant with a couple of guys.
“Gonna go say hello to lover boy?”
I shake my head swiftly as Sasha asks, “Who?”
“Number eight for the Seattle Winterhawks. Leads the team in fights and penalty minutes. Currently the highest scoring defenseman in the NHL, about to crush Glenn Beckford’s record, and a potential Trojan Magnum spokesman.”
I reach across the table and smack Audrey’s arm at that last comment while Jessie groans, “Too much information!”
Sasha’s eyes shoot to Seb’s table and then get wide. “Him? The injured player from the other night? You’resleepingwith him?!”
“No!” I bark at my sister-in-law. “It was just a one-night stand.”
“That happened twice,” Audrey adds helpfully.
Three times,I correct inwardly. Now Jessie is staring at me in shock along with Sasha. “So that kiss I stumbled upon at the game wasn’t a first-time thing?”
“They kissed at the game?” Audrey looks like someone just gave her a check for a million dollars. “Oh my God, you broke your own rules. Knowingly. You like him!”
“I have no idea why I am friends with you,” I say to her and turn to Jessie and Sasha. “That was a mistake. Being around my father gave me temporary insanity. It was nothing. We’re nothing. He’s a hockey player.”
Audrey looks past me at him again, and he must be looking back because she mouths the word “hello.” Jessie waves. “Oh! He’s with Chooch and Dix.”
I can’t help but look back over, and Seb winks at me. I turn away, trying to quell the ripple of heat that starts to flow through my veins.
He looks mouthwateringly good. His hair is styled, pushed back a little off his forehead and tousled. He’s wearing a charcoal shirt. The color makes his eyes look even lighter somehow. His jeans are well worn and he has battered black boots on.
I have to admit, I had expected to see him before now. I thought he would follow me back into the private box at the hockey game, but I didn’t see him again for the rest of the game. And he hadn’t been by the gym yesterday. Whether I liked it or not, I found myself wondering where he was and what he was doing and why I hadn’t seen or heard from him. My heart was the one asking the questions, while my brain screamed the obvious answers.
You haven’t heard from him because he’s done with you. You treated him like crap. He finally got sick of it, which is what you wanted. He’s moved on to the billions of eager, hot girls that want him.
That’s why, now that I see him sitting there laughing with his buddies, I have to ignore him. Because I finally got what I wanted. I can’t screw that up. Sasha glances over her shoulder, at Frenchie and his friends, and back at me.
