“Game’s on!” Grams’ roommate, Nancy, calls from the other room, drawing everyone’s attention. “We got hockey butts on TV, ladies!”
I’d be lying if I said the urge to walk into that living room and watch it isn’t eating a hole in me right now. Tonight is Rhodes’ first game back since his suspension, and I am dying to see him play.
I didn’t realize how in love I fell with the sport. Not having hockey in my life over the last few weeks has been weird. I miss it. I miss the thrill of watching the guys fly down the ice. I miss the crashing into the boards. I miss the crazy shots thrown at the net that should never go in but somehow always do. I miss the announcers being total goofballs and mispronouncing so many names.
I miss hockey, and most of all, I miss my hockey player.
I try to ignore the pit in my stomach that’s been steadily growing the last few weeks.
“Well, I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m going to go watch some hockey,” Grams says, rising from her spot at the kitchen table.
Harper’s wide eyes find mine to see what the hell I’m going to do.
I know she’s dying to watch, but she’s trying to be a supportive friend. That’s why she’s here today instead of at the game cheering her fiancé on. Solidarity and all that.
She lifts a brow, and I can see the excitement in her eyes. “What do you say? You want to go watch some grown men be paid entirely too much money to chase around a vulcanized rubber disc on frozen water with knife blades on their feet?”
Well, I guess that’s one way to ask if I want to watch hockey.
“What the hell? I can’t avoid the game forever.”
“That’s my girl!” Grams says.
We make our way into the living room just as the puck drops.
And there he is.
God, even looking at him on this awful, outdated television, he’s beautiful. He looks different and the same all at once.
My heart aches just seeing him. My body yearns for him.
Harper and Grams take the two open spots on the couch, and I stand at the back, eyes glued to the television.
I don’t look away for a single second, which means I don’t miss the goal he scores just four minutes into the game. I don’t miss the way the crowd erupts, screaming his name.
“BEEEAAASSSTTT!” they belt out.
And he smiles.
Adrian Rhodes smiles.
Full-blown, teeth-showing, cheek-splitting smile.
And it’s breathtaking.
He’s breathtaking.
Gameplay resumes, but not before everybody on the bench goes wild and congratulates him on the goal. They’re clearly happy to have him back.
The Comets score another goal in the first period, but unfortunately, Vancouver comes back to score twice in the second to tie it up. At the beginning of the third, Rhodes takes a hit, and he goes down hard.
My breath catches in my throat, and I swear I don’t breathe the entire time he’s down on the ice. Collin and Lowell help him off and down the tunnel. I breathe a sigh of relief when the announcers tell us he’s back on the bench and feeling fine.
It makes me both sad and happy I’m not currently there in the crowd.
With just three minutes to go, it’s the damn rookie back to save the day, and the Comets take the win. Harper, Grams, Nancy, and I all cheer, glad the guys were able to make the comeback and win.
The postgame show starts, and I head to the kitchen to start on the dishes in Grams’ sink. There’s nothing on there for me to watch.
I’m about halfway into a sink full of dishes when I hear it.
Rhodes.
I whirl around, hands still soaking wet from the water, not caring that I’m dripping it everywhere.
“Adrian, can you tell us how it felt to be back out on the ice after missing six games?”
“Good.”
I laugh at his one-syllable answer. Typical Rhodes.
“Adrian, can you walk us through that game where you got suspended? What happened?”
I lean closer to the TV, dying to know the details too.
He sits forward, lips nearly touching the microphone. He tugs the hat he’s wearing down lower.
“What happened is that Joshua Colter said some very…” He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to find the right words. “Uh, unsportsmanlike things about a person who is very special to me. And, well, I wasn’t going to let that happen.”
He sits back again, crossing his arms over his chest.
“There seems to be a lot of bad blood between you and Mr. Colter. Is this because he’s engaged to your ex-girlfriend?” someone else asks.
“Uh, no. It’s because he’s a dick.”
Several people in the room snicker, a few gasp.
Me? I cackle.
“Adrian, can you tell us what’s going on with your marriage to beauty influencer Ryan Bell? It was announced over the summer that you two had tied the knot during a weekend in Las Vegas, but now there are reports that the marriage never happened. Can you elaborate on that for us?”
He shifts around in his chair, clearly uncomfortable being in front of all the cameras and being put on the spot.
“Come on, let’s stick to hockey, huh?” Someone speaks up for him, and it sounds like Collin offscreen.
“Look, I’m only going to talk about this one time, so everybody go ahead and get your little tape recorders ready.” He pauses, waiting for them to do just that. “You all good?”
There’s a murmuring amongst the crowd, confirming they are ready to go.
Rhodes spins his ballcap backward, and I know the move is significant. He’s putting his scar on display.
My chest swells with pride.
He sits forward, lips to the microphone, and I hold my breath for the second time tonight.
“The announcement made this summer was the result of a drunken night in Las Vegas where Ryan Bell and I were led to believe we had gotten married. Honestly, it was a silly mistake that came courtesy of my good friend Jose and his buddy Jack, and a little thing called poor decision-making.” A few people laugh. “Truthfully, we had no business doing what we did, and I regret it.”
My heart sinks.
“But I don’t regret it for the reasons most people might think.” He takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. “I regret it because I didn’t do it for the right reasons. I did it because my heart hurt, and I wanted it to stop hurting. That is the only reason I regret it. I don’t regret who I married, and I don’t regret the last few months I’ve spent falling in love with my wife. And yes, I said wife. Because to me, for all intents and purposes, we did get married. The only thing we didn’t do was sign the certificate. But we took vows. We exchanged rings. And we made promises that, if Ryan forgives me for this whole mess, I intend to keep.”
The room is silent.
Completely still.
Then, it erupts.
Everyone is talking over one another, and it’s nearly impossible to decipher what’s being asked. I hear my name. I hear Rhodes’ name. I hear words like annulment and divorce and deceit.
Rhodes just leans down into the microphone and says, “No further questions. Thank you.”
Then he disappears off stage.
And I’m left standing here stunned.
“Ryan?” Harper asks quietly, moving to stand in front of me. “Are you…okay?”
“I…don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“That”—Grams points to the TV—“is what us romance lovers call a grand gesture. This is the part in the movie where you run through the airport for him and confess your love before he hops a flight to Paris, never to be seen again.” She grabs my shoulders. “How do you feel, Ryan?”
How do I feel?
How do I feel?
I feel…shocked. Stunned.
And so damn in love with him it hurts.
I’m mad and hurt and confused, but this is it—an ugly moment.
I can’t give up now just because it
’s hard. I can’t walk away just because my heart is hurting. If I think Rhodes is truly worth it—and I do—I need to fight for what I want.
Because these ugly moments? They make all the pretty ones even more beautiful.
“I love him,” I say.
Grams grins, squeezing my shoulders. “Then go. Go find your airport. Go confess how you feel.”
“But what—”
“I swear if you say some silly shit like ‘But what if he doesn’t love me,’ I will knock you upside the head,” Nancy says. “If you don’t get your ass out that door and find your man in the next ten seconds, I’m taking off after him myself.”
I look to Harper, and she nods, shoving her car keys at me. “Go. I’ll text Collin to see where he’s at.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I hop in the car and drive.
Truthfully, I don’t need Harper or Collin to tell me where he’s at because I know Rhodes.
I know him.
It’s crazy to think that just a few months ago, he was just the teammate of my best friend’s boyfriend.
Now? Now he’s my world. That Prince Charming I’ve been waiting for.
He’s my Beast, and I’m his Beauty.
We make no sense together, but I’ll be damned if I let that stop us.
A message chimes over the infotainment center of Harper’s new car and I press the Read button.
* * *
Harper: He’s at Slapshots.
* * *
I knew it.
With it being a game night, I’m not expecting to find parking, but somehow luck is on my side, and I maneuver the car into a spot just across the street.
I waste no time darting across the intersection, ignoring the beeps and shouts from drivers, and yank open the door to the beloved bar.
The place is packed, but it doesn’t stop me from spotting Rhodes instantly. He’s so huge, he’s kind of hard to miss.
God. Just seeing him sitting across the bar… My fingers itch to touch him. My body longs to be near him. I want so damn badly to throw myself in his lap and press my lips to his.
On shaky legs, I cross the bar and slide up next to him.
I feel the air crackle between us almost instantly.
I signal for the bartender and place an order. When he returns with four shots, I slide two to Rhodes and keep the others to myself.
Then, with a steadying breath, I turn to my husband.
“Want to hear a love story?”
24
RHODES
A warm body slides onto the stool next to me, signaling to the bartender for a drink. “I’ll take two shots each of Jose and Jack.”
“Coming right up,” the bartender says, turning to pour the shots.
He’s only gone a minute or two, then he’s placing the shots in front of the person next to me.
They slide a shot of each my way.
“Want to hear a love story?”
“I’m not really one for romance, but I’ll bite.”
She rests her elbow on the bar top, taking a shot glass in her hand. “I met this guy last year. He was the best friend of my best friend’s boyfriend. If that’s not confusing, I don’t know what is. Anyway, I guess we became…allies of sorts. We weren’t really friends, but we weren’t not friends either. We were shoved into the same group activities whenever anyone could coax him out of his big, dark castle. Oh, he has a castle, by the way. How cool is that?”
“I think a big, dark castle sounds nice.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should meet my friend, then. You’d probably get along.” She waves her hand. “So anyway, this past summer, we all took a vacation to Las Vegas. A little fun, a little gambling, and some drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. Too much of it for certain. Then, like a total Prince Charming swooping in to save the day, guess who offers to take care of me?”
“Oh wait, don’t tell me—it’s the best friend of the best friend’s boyfriend?”
“Yes!” She slaps the bar top. “What are the freakin’ odds?”
“I’d say pretty good considering he was forced to take care of you. He did not choose it.”
She narrows her eyes. “Anyway. He’s doing the prince thing, taking care of me, making sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. You know, the usual.”
“He sounds like a really good dude.”
“He was. But in a crazy twist of events, it was suddenly me, the princess, taking care of the prince. You see, he had his heart broken, and he needed it mended. So being the selfless soul I am, I stepped up.”
“How kind of you.”
“Right? I took him out dancing and drinking and gave him a magical night he’ll never forget.”
“Oh, no. You gave him herpes, didn’t you?”
The look she gives me is murderous. “No. Better. I gave him a ring. Or he gave me a ring. I really can’t remember because I was shit-faced.”
“Wait. I thought you were taking care of the prince?”
“At that point, we were taking care of each other.”
“Okay, okay. So, what happens next?”
“Well, in the wee hours of the not-so-morning, we wake up to find ourselves suddenly hitched and the evidence sprinkled all over social media.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It was.” She shudders. “See, the prince was this famous sports dude.”
“Famous sports dude?”
“Yep. He literally played with his stick for a living.”
I try not to choke on my beer.
“So, we did what any smart, quick-thinking pair would do—we faked it. We’re talking move in together, pretend to be in love, fake it.”
“And it worked? This ruse of yours?”
“Oh, certainly. Nobody was the wiser.”
“Definitely not a single soul. You two sound like incredible actors.”
“The best there ever was.”
“What happened next?”
“Well, the dark moment.”
“Dark moment?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “You know, the big sad scene where everyone gets their heart broken and nothing feels like it’s ever going to be right again.”
“Ah. Yes. I am familiar with that.”
“Well, it hit them hard.”
“This is starting to sound less and less like a love story.”
“That’s because I’m not finished and you keep interrupting me, Rhodes.”
I tuck my lips together, gesturing for her to continue.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Anyway, then…ugh. No, no, never mind. You totally ruined it with all your talking!” She turns to me, daggers in her eyes.
“I ruined it with all my talking?”
“Yes! I was doing this super cute fairy-tale-story thing because I love fairy tales and then at the end I was going to be all I love you, Adrian Rhodes and you were going to be all”—she puffs her chest out, dropping her voice low—“I love you too, baby. And then we were going to make out like fools in public and live happily ever after.”
“Okay, one, I do not sound like that.”
“Oh, you totally do. All deep and growly. It’s like—”
I kiss her.
I kiss her to shut her up and I kiss her because I can’t stand not kissing her for another second.
It’s a slow, languid kiss. Soft, gentle, and hopefully full of all the things I want to say to her.
She smiles against me when I pull away.
“Two,” I continue, “I’m going to need to hear you say it again.”
“All deep and growly like—”
“No. The other part.”
“Oh, the part where I say I love you?” I nod, and she brushes her lips against mine. “I love you, Adrian Rhodes.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “So much.”
I sigh, feeling whole for the first time in a long time. “Good. Because I love you too.”
“Yeah?”
“So much.”
>
I kiss her again.
And again.
And again.
In fact, I don’t stop kissing her until she’s literally in my lap and we’re making a scene.
“We should stop.”
“We should.”
But we don’t.
Not until the owner of the bar comes over and taps us on the shoulder do we finally pull apart.
Ryan slips back onto her stool, and I dutifully stay on mine.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, keeping my hand on her leg.
Those lips that I can’t seem to get enough of pull into a frown. “I know.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“I know that too.”
I laugh. “God, I missed your smart mouth.”
“I know that too.” She winks, then sobers up quickly. “I won’t lie, I’m still upset with you. It hurt to find out like I did. I wish you could have been honest with me. I thought…” She exhales shakily. “I thought we meant more than that to each other. I thought I deserved your honesty.”
“We did. You did. You do. It was a stupid decision on my part, one made by a scared, foolish man.”
“Scared?”
I gulp back the lump in my throat. “Of losing you. Of you realizing that you could do so much better than me.”
She shakes her head. “When are you going to understand that you’re enough, Rhodes?”
She takes my face in her hands, her thumb skating over my scar. I lean into her touch, needing it because it’s been far too fucking long.
“You are enough,” she says, “and I love you just the way you are.”
I swallow, nodding. “I believe you.”
She presses her lips to mine once more but this time it’s softer. Slower. And I taste the truth of her words in her kiss.
When she pulls back, she says, “Did you mean what you said? During the postgame junket?”
“Which part? I said a lot. Mostly blocked it out.”
“About keeping promises.”
“Every fucking word.”
“Good.” She grins, lifting her shot glass. “To mistakes.”
I lift mine too. “And promises.”
We toss the shots back, and I wipe my hand across my mouth.
“So, you never did tell me how that story ended.”
Blind Pass (Carolina Comets) Page 20
