Page 65 of Heartless As Puck

Jane and I wandered back to our room, and it was only once we were safely inside with the door locked to keep intruders out that I realized it was time for the talk we’d delayed earlier.

A thread of anxiety unspooled in my gut. I still didn’t know exactly what I wanted to say and my shitty father hadn’t taught me how to talk about my feelings. In his eyes, even acknowledging they existed would have shown weakness.

Since the rooms were simple, with no couches or armchairs, we sat on the wooden chairs beside the coffee table. It occurred to me that perhaps I should have asked one of the rookies for a splash of whatever alcohol they’d snuck onto the trip. This conversation might have been easier with fortification.

Jane waited, patient as always. Her silent presence calmed me, and I had to remind myself that she already knew who I was inside. She had an idea of how I’d been raised, and she wouldn’t expect me to suddenly become someone who was good at communicating on an emotional level when I never had been in the past.

I drew in a deep breath. “I’m not good at talking about feeling stuff or knowing what to do when it comes to, uh, relationships.”

She reached across the table and I took her hand. The position was a little awkward, but the reassurance of her palm against mine was worth any minor discomfort.

“I’ve never even tried to have a girlfriend.” I was a little embarrassed to admit that. What kind of man in his thirties hadn’t had at least one girlfriend?

“Is that because of your dad?” she asked, giving my hand a squeeze. “Did he make you think that relationships were a waste of time when you should be focused on hockey?”

“Partly that,” I admitted, hating that my father still had any influence over me. “He drilled into me that if my focus slipped from hockey, then I might lose everything.”

“That’s an awful thing to say to a kid.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips pinched. For some reason, it felt nice to see her angry on my behalf. “You know it’s not true, right? My dad was a great player, and he married Mom and had Alec and me while he was still active. It didn’t ruin his career.”

I grimaced. “Logically, I know, and honestly, that isn’t the main thing that makes me wary. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him, and he let me know it. I’ve never tried to devote myself to anything other than hockey, and I worry that I won’t know how to give all of myself to a relationship. I’d hate to date someone only to”—I swallowed past a lump in my throat—“hear that I wasn’t enough from another person I care about.”

“Oh, Austin.” Her eyes shone with tears. “I promise I will never say that to you, no matter what happens between us. I’m so glad you cut your dad out of your life. He doesn’t deserve to be part of it.”

Emotion choked me, and I forced myself to drag in a slow inhale and release a long exhale. The tension bled from my shoulders. “Thank you.” God, she was so sweet. I wanted so badly to be the man who made her happy. “I care about you, Jane. Not because of your family or your connections but because you’re clever and kind—and surprisingly tough. I don’t have all the answers about what this is yet or what it means for the future, but I can tell you for certain that this thing between us isn’t fake anymore. At least not for me.”

She dragged her chair closer and pressed against me, giving nonverbal support that I appreciated so much.

“Thank you,” she said. “I know that was hard for you. I… It’s not fake for me either. But if you’re worried about balancing this—us—with your hockey career, there’s no rush to label it or to dive into anything serious. We have the season to figure out how to make it work for us both. We have time, and I’m not going to disappear from your life if you have to do an extra practice or two. I understand. Besides, we’ve already committed to each other on paper for the next few months, so why not?”

I sagged in the chair, relieved she wasn’t pushing for answers or a commitment. “That sounds perfect.”

What had I done to deserve her?

I propped two of my fingers beneath her chin to tilt her face up, then kissed her. Her lips parted beneath mine and her breath stuttered. I drank in the delicious sound and stroked the silky skin of her neck.

We separated, both breathing heavily.

“I don’t suppose you brought condoms?” she asked, her breath whispering across my lips.

Blood rushed to my cock. “I always have one on me.”

Not that I often needed it, but it was best to be prepared.

“Such a Boy Scout,” she teased. “Is it… too soon?”

I shook my head vigorously. “If it isn’t for you, then it’s not for me.”

Fuck, even thinking of sinking into her heat made me throb behind the zipper of my pants.

We kissed again, and I stood and lifted her into my arms. She giggled and clutched my shoulders as I carried her to the bunk bed and gently set her down.

“Tell me if you need to slow down.” I held her gaze, so she’d know how serious I was, and I waited until she nodded in acknowledgment before I stripped her sweater off her, followed by her long-sleeved shirt.

Beneath, she wore a pale pink bra. Against the fabric, her skin looked even creamier than usual. Her stomach was flat, her hips slightly curved but slim, and I brushed a kiss to her cute little belly button.

She pushed me away, laughing. “That tickles.”

“Sorry.” I wasn’t really. Anything that made her laugh was good in my books.