A dark chuckle threaded through me, along with a potent dose of relief.Thank. Fuck.
Our other Bernadoodle, Bacon, wandered into the room as Bryn slapped my chest playfully before settling into a cross-legged position on the floor. Bacon climbed in her lap, as he had ever since he was a puppy. It was as if he thought he weighed twenty pounds instead of forty-five.
Both Bryn and I had each always wanted a dog. But until recently, neither of us had been in the place to take care of a pet full time on our own. When we’d jointly adopted Bacon and Biscuit, Bryn’s grief had still been fresh, and I was on the road a lot for games. I’d hoped that a dog would bring us both comfort after losing Derek, and caring for them together had seemed like the perfect solution. Now, a year in, I couldn’t imagine our lives without Bacon and Biscuit.
She gave Bacon some behind-the-ear scratches, and then he heard a sound and went to the window to investigate. Bryn groaned and flopped back on the floor, draping her arm over her forehead. “This isn’t funny, Bear.”
The dogs went over, licking her face until she was giggling. The sound was so light and full of so much joy that I closed my eyes as if to capture it in my mind. It was damn good to hear her laugh. I couldn’t help but join in.
Bryn sat up, paused, then lifted her hand as if to touch my cheek. Everything in me reached out to her as I held my breath, waiting for the moment her palm connected with my skin. When she hesitated, I remained still, trying to be patient.
“I forgot how handsome you are when you actually smile.” She blushed then, lowering her hand to her lap as she added, “It’s difficult to see your lips through all the fur covering your face.”
“Ha-ha,” I deadpanned, mostly to stop myself from begging her to touch me. “You’re not the first person to say that to me.”
The guys loved to give me shit for my play-off beard, and I laughed off their good-natured ribbing. Play-offs were over. Done. And yet, I couldn’t seem to make myself shave.
Florida had hoisted the Cup last month. And for some reason, I was still hanging on to my play-off beard as if it would bring me luck. Or change something. Fuck if I knew.
“I bet if you shaved,” Bryn said, breaking me out of my thoughts, “you’d be out with some woman instead of spending your off-season keeping me company.”
“Not likely,” I muttered.
It didn’t matter how many women hit on me—and the beard and long hair certainly didn’t deter them. There was only one woman I wanted.
“I still can’t believe you’ve been in LA for almost two years and haven’t dated anyone,” she said.
I had zero interest in dating someone. At least someone who wasn’t Bryn.
But it was difficult not to think of her as Derek’s wife. She’d been married to my best friend. My former teammate. My gut twisted with guilt.
I smoothed my hand down my beard. Derek, like the other guys on the team, would’ve given me shit for it. The thought made me smile, and I was grateful for times like this when I could think of him without feeling like I’d taken a frozen puck to the chest.
“Haven’t had time,” I said in answer to Bryn’s comment about my lack of dating, which was partially true.
The life of a pro hockey player was intense, especially during the grueling eighty-two-game regular season. Not many people could understand the hours, the travel, the dedication involved. It might be the off-season now, but that didn’t change anything—at least not for me and my interest in a romantic partner.
I’d been friends with Bryn for nearly a decade. It was only in the past year that things had changed for me.
“Do you have time for hookups?” she asked.
“Why?” I leaned forward. “You offering?”
I couldn’t believe I’d just said that.Why the fuck had I just said that?But it wasn’t as if I could take it back now.
She laughed. “I’m sure you have your fair share of puck bunnies to choose from.” She rolled her lips between her teeth then admitted, “I wish I could do casual sex, but I’m not sure I could keep my emotions out of it.”
That didn’t surprise me. Bryn and Derek had been a couple since her first year of college. For nearly her entire adult life, they’d prioritized their relationship through undergrad, through her extra schooling, and when he’d gotten drafted. She was definitely a relationship person, and that was why part of me couldn’t be too mad at her family for wanting her to find love again.
“And you still didn’t answer my question,” Bryn said.
I tried to remember what we’d been talking about. Right. Puck bunnies. “That lifestyle quickly loses its appeal.”
At least, it had for me. I’d tried a few hookups early in my career, but I’d only ended up feeling worse about myself.
Puck bunnies were only interested in bragging about the players they bagged. They didn’t care about me as a person. They cared about my status as an NHL player. Sure, I’d been using them for something too, but the entire experience made me feel…cheap.
“So does that mean you’re looking for a relationship?” Bryn asked, surprising me further.
