Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Jami Davenport

  “Hey, you’d have done it for me.”

  “I would’ve.”

  “I feel like a huge weight was taken off my shoulders when he said he wouldn’t be at our games.”

  “Yeah, thank God.” I fist-bumped with my brother, feeling closer to him than I had for a long time, despite the rock that sat in the pit of my stomach regarding their suspicions about Naomi.

  We sat down on the couch and found a hockey game on TV, watching it and commenting on anything and everything, like we once had.

  During intermission, Patrick turned to me. “I think Dad’s right, you know. She’s using you. Can’t you see it?”

  “She is not using me.”

  Patrick’s pitying glance irritated the hell out of me. I was either going to thump him or I needed to get the hell out of here. I grabbed my coat.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “To the library. Some of us study.”

  “Fuck you,” Patrick shot back. I was being an ass, and I knew it. Patrick’s sore spot was his studies, and I’d been getting in my jabs.

  I hesitated in the doorway, about to apologize to him, but he turned his back on me and stomped off down the hall.

  I slammed the door, getting a small measure of satisfaction from the loud noise, and trudged through the snow toward campus. I was furious with my family and missing Naomi. They were wrong about her. Damn it.

  I spent the evening and next day mired in doubts and whether now was the right time to be wrapped up in a serious relationship with all the other shit in my life. Even Coach Garf’s positive thinking lessons weren’t overcoming the negativity and self-doubt creeping into my thoughts.

  I was in no shape for two away games this weekend.

  Naomi spent the weekend with her father, so I didn’t have her encouraging presence to bolster my confidence. Nor did I have my brother to confide in. He’d made his position clear.

  By the time I skated onto the ice for the puck drop on Friday night, I was a mess inside. No one noticed, not even Patrick, which was a testament to how far apart we’d grown in the past month or so.

  As we raced up and down the rink, my feeling of destabilization intensified. The ice felt off under my blades. My uniform restricted my movements. My brain wasn’t seeing the shots. I was tense and growing more desperate by the second. I forced several shots at the net and missed every one of them, drawing disapproving scowls not only from Patrick but from the other members of my line.

  “I’m hot tonight. You’re colder than this ice we’re skating on. Be a fucking team player. Feed me the puck,” Patrick hissed at me as we took the ice for the third period.

  I bit back a retort. He was right. He was hot. I was a team player, damn it. I slid back into my old method of play, passing my brother the puck instead of taking a chance on my shots. Patrick was ecstatic, and I was miserable by the time the game ended, even though we won.

  The next night, Coach Garf approached me during warm-ups. “Relax, kid. Don’t panic. Don’t fall back on old habits. You’ve got this. Trust yourself and your instincts.”

  “But the team…”

  “The team is still winning. Stick with our plan.”

  Only I didn’t. Our opponent was tied with us for first place, and they were tough as nails. The game was hard-fought and fast-paced. I was slammed up against the boards more than I had been in the previous four games.

  We won, just barely thanks to my teammates stepping up, while I stepped down, considerably.

  My life was spiraling out of control, and I needed to simplify things by making smart, sound decisions, rather than ones based on emotion. At the first sign of adversity, I’d abandoned my new way of playing and gone back to being Patrick’s wingman.

  31

  Backsliding

  Naomi

  I spent the long Thanksgiving weekend with my dad and his girlfriend. Dad had taken the liberty of making sure I had the weekend off from my statistician job without even asking me first. I’d have preferred going to the games, but instead we watched them on television as a family.

  I missed Paxton immensely, but he’d been so busy all weekend we’d hardly had a chance to talk, with him being on the road and me being under my dad’s thumb.

  Moo U won both games that weekend. Patrick scored a hat trick during Saturday’s game. Paxton didn’t score either game, but he had an assist. He was slightly off. Not skating as sharply as he had been for the past month. He shot several times in the first two periods. By the end of the second period of the first game, he appeared totally demoralized and slipping back into his old role by feeding Patrick the puck. The team needed his scoring during the second game, and it wasn’t there. Paxton wasn’t shooting at all.

  I was relieved to hear his father wasn’t at the games. We’d both speculated how long he’d be able to afford attending. According to Pax, he’d let his sons know he wouldn’t be at any more games until after the new year, claiming he’d been laid off from his job.

  My father had taken on a commentator position for his old team while the full-time guy was out with a medical issue. He wouldn’t be interfering in my life as much either. I looked forward to being out from under his constant scrutiny.

  Coach offered to keep me on as a statistician after the semester ended and my internship was done. A week ago, I’d have jumped at the chance. But something wasn’t quite right between Paxton and me. He’d been different on the phone over the weekend, as if he were pulling away. Maybe we’d moved too fast, and he was getting cold feet. I didn’t know. I asked Coach to give me a few weeks to decide, and he was fine with that.

  I met Pax at the Biscuit on Sunday night for wings and beer. I arrived early for once and waited for him at the hockey table. I had missed him so much, and he’d consumed the majority of my thoughts for the past several days. In my pocket was a gift for him, certain to bring a smile to his face, while we had a good laugh between us.

  Patrick came in the door first with a huge grin on his face like a triumphant warrior. He paused to flirt with a tableful of female fans giggling and fawning over him. Hockey players were Moo U’s biggest celebrities, and a lot of the guys basked in the glow of such adulation.

  Paxton entered a few minutes later. I took him in. With his dark hair he never cared much about but still looked sexy as hell whether long or short, the Moo U sweatshirt that clung to his broad shoulders, and his drool-worthy hockey ass clad in faded jeans, he was everything I would ask for and more. And he was all mine. He rocked my body and held my heart in the palm of his large, calloused hands. I was falling for him in a way both scary and unique.

  He spotted me, and a grin played at the corners of his mouth.

  Unable to control my enthusiasm, I lost all composure. Four days was a long time to be apart. I shrieked his name and rushed toward him. Launching myself into his arms, I clung to him like he was a life preserver from the Titanic. He hugged me back, holding on so tight it was almost as if he feared this hug might be our last one. Finally, we separated. He grinned down at me.

  “I’m starved.” He took my hand and led me away from the hockey table to a private table nearby.

  “I missed you so much,” I gushed, throwing my feelings out there and hoping he didn’t stomp on them in return.

  “I missed you, too.” He looked away from me, not meeting my gaze. A red flag flew up the flagpole, and I sobered. Something was wrong. I hadn’t imagined the subtle differences in him.

  “How are you doing?” I tamped down my enthusiasm out of sheer self-preservation.

  “Okay.” He was anything but okay. His blue eyes were troubled, and his shoulders slumped.

  “You don’t seem okay.” It wasn’t us, it was his play over the weekend. That’s all. Paxton was his own worst critic. I breathed a little easier having convinced myself his withdrawal had nothing to do with me.

  “Did you watch the games?”

  “Yeah, I did. You were having a tough couple nights.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed
it.

  “I wasn’t feeling it. Coach told me not to get down on myself. He says I’m bound to resort to old habits when things aren’t going my way and to have faith.” He looked up at me. None of the usual sparkle was in his gaze. “What if it’s not a fluke? What if my dad was right? What if I was playing above my abilities, and my improvement was only temporary?”

  “Your dad told you that?” Anger at Paxton’s father boiled inside me.

  He nodded solemnly. “Yeah, tearing me down was part of our Thanksgiving Day dinner.”

  If Mr. Graham had been in front of me, I’d have thrown a pitcher of beer on his head or, even better, a plate of spaghetti. “He’s wrong. You’re an exceptional player. So you had a setback. So what? You can do this.”

  “Coach wants me to step it up and spend every spare moment I have working on the physical and mental aspects of my game. He thinks I’ve backed off lately, which is why I’m backsliding.”

  “Maybe he’s right.” I suppressed a twinge of guilt I might have some blame in why Pax’s play had deteriorated. He’d been spending more and more time with me, compared to working on his game. I hadn’t discouraged him either. I’d selfishly taken whatever time he gave me, not thinking about his future.

  “You always have believed in me.” His expression softened. I wanted to hold him and erase the lines of stress off his handsome face.

  “I’ll always be your biggest fan,” I promised, maybe overdoing my enthusiasm a bit.

  He looked away but not before I caught something in his eyes that looked like regret. Panic rose inside me. I’d been dreading this moment ever since he’d had that discussion with the Sockeyes. I’d been in denial regarding how he’d act on their suggestions, but now I realized how wrong I most likely was. Hockey had been Paxton’s life since he’d been old enough to skate. He had to take them seriously. I admired his relentless dedication to his chosen career, and I’d never stand in the way of his success. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.

  Searching for a distraction to bring the conversation back to something more positive, I pulled the small package from my pocket and handed it to him. “This is for you.”

  He turned the small brown paper bag over in his large hand. “What is it?”

  “Look and see.”

  I watched as he pulled the rose-colored crystal from the sack and looked questioningly at me. I’d bought the rock partially as a joke between him and me.

  “It’s rose quartz. I thought you could put it on the chain with your other crystal.”

  “What does it represent?” He rolled the stone around in his palm, examining it.

  “It’s to help restore harmony in your relationships and also encourages self-worth. I thought you could use it because…you…Patrick.”

  He nodded slowly, took off his necklace, and added it to the chain. He pulled the chain over his head and tucked it under his sweatshirt. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I’d left out the part about that stone representing love and healing in relationships. I wasn’t sure how he’d take that right now. He met my gaze, and his smile was laced with sadness. My mouth grew dry, and my throat closed up. Something was horribly wrong.

  “Let’s go somewhere we can talk privately,” he said, cementing my fears with his words.

  “Okay.” My heart pounded in my chest, and my stomach lurched. Fear about our future bombarded me with doubt. Our relationship was so new and so fragile. We hadn’t had time to build a solid foundation able to weather any storm. I didn’t know if such a possibility would ever be afforded to us.

  I didn’t feel so good and hoped my face didn’t reflect my fears. Whatever Paxton said, I had to believe we’d get through this. Prematurely, I’d spent part of the weekend researching possible colleges in Seattle to finish my degree, even secretly started the transfer process to see if I’d lose any credits or not.

  I’d been a fool to put this much stock into our relationship.

  He put his coat on, and I followed his lead. Waving to the people at the hockey table, we walked outside into the chilly night.

  “Over here,” he suggested. The Biscuit had outside seating not used in the winter, but a few chairs were scattered about for smokers. Currently, no one was occupying them. I wiped one off with my sleeve and sat down. Hugging myself in a protective gesture he’d assume was because of the cold, I watched and waited for whatever came next.

  Paxton pulled a chair across from me instead of next to me. Not a good sign.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, wanting to get this over with.

  “I’m conflicted.” He stared at his hands and wrung them in his lap. “I’m worried about my game, especially after this weekend. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what the Sockeyes said to me.”

  “Wise words. You’re on the cusp of your professional career.”

  He lifted his head, giving me a great view of blue eyes filled with conflict and indecision. “I don’t know what to do. You’re my rock, yet I feel torn. I don’t know how much I can put into a relationship right now. Doing something halfway hasn’t been my style, nor is it fair to you.”

  I stayed quiet, afraid I’d choke if I tried to speak. I’d never dealt with real heartbreak before other than the death of my mother, and what I was feeling now came close to that. We’d only been dating a short time, but we’d been friends for a few years. The dread ripped at my insides, and I hugged myself tighter.

  I couldn’t lose him right after I’d finally realized how much he mattered.

  Pax was the one, and I think I’d always loved him, even if I hadn’t admitted to it before.

  Yes, I loved him. A moment like this should be sung from the rooftops and celebrated. Instead, fear weighed me down and settled in the pit of my stomach.

  “Are you breaking up with me?” I choked on a strangled sob and dabbed at the corners of my eyes with a napkin. I would not cry. I was stronger than that.

  “I don’t want to, but there’s so much going on, and I’m torn in different directions. I feel guilty not spending enough time with you, not studying like I should, and not concentrating all my efforts on hockey. Something has to give.”

  “And you think it has to be us?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I need to concentrate on school and hockey.”

  “Let’s slow down. We don’t have to spend every spare minute together. We do have finals coming up in two weeks, and so much is going on all at once.” He wasn’t breaking up. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, desperate to keep him in my life in some capacity.

  “Yeah, I won’t be able to spend much time with you.”

  “Let’s not worry about us right now. We don’t have to be joined at the hip. You take care of business. I’ll be here when things have evened out. You take care of you. Don’t worry about me.”

  Denying my problems had been my MO since my mom had died. I’d dwelled in a dream world where life was exactly what I wanted it to be. I worked hard on not overthinking things or giving concerns too much power in my life. As a result, I’d become irresponsible and wasted a lot of my high school years partying. Glossing over and burying problems was a survival mechanism that became destructive. After a few years of counseling, I’d learned to deal with pain and adversity rather than denying them. Here I was falling back into that mode. If I ignored our problems, they’d go away.

  We both dropped the subject of our future for the next half hour, talking about classes, finals coming up, and Christmas break plans.

  After drinking a few beers and gorging on wings, Paxton paid the bill.

  “Do you want to come back to the dorm with me?” I asked hopefully.

  He considered my invitation for way too long, and I rubbed my upset stomach under the table, then he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that. It might be a while before we can get together again with everything we have going on.”

  We fucked that night with hungry desperation, as if somehow we knew deep down we might never be together again. A dar
k cloud hung over us. Paxton didn’t stay the night but left by midnight, claiming again that he was tired. He’d never been tired before when it’d come to us, and I knew he wasn’t now.

  I wasn’t able to shake the sense of this being the beginning of the end.

  I hadn’t known until this moment how much Paxton meant to me. How much I truly loved him. How torn apart I’d be without him. Some part of me had assumed he’d always be a part of my life, and there’d be time for us to explore a relationship. Even when I’d thought I preferred his brother, somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d felt time was on our side.

  I was wrong. Time wasn’t on our side, and I was running out of the most precious commodity a person had.

  32

  Comforting Arms

  Naomi

  On Wednesday, my dad called. He’d be on campus briefly for an alumni hockey meeting that evening and thought we might grab dinner.

  I hadn’t seen Paxton since Sunday night, not even in the dining hall. We texted throughout the day, but our texts were superficial, none of the playfulness and sexy teasing I’d come to expect. I talked to him last night, and he was in a hurry to get to the rink for a late-night practice session with Coach Garf. I hoped to run into him while waiting for my dad, but so far, he hadn’t surfaced.

  My dad’s meeting ran late, and I had a study group in a half hour. Dinner might not happen, but I didn’t dare leave without at least saying hi to him. People catered to my dad, and the guilt he’d dump on me if I left before seeing him forced me to stick around.

  Patrick strolled out of the weight room. He broke into a welcoming smile when he saw me.

  “Hey, Omi, how’s it going?”

  The dam broke. I’d been holding my emotions in check since Sunday night, and they refused to be held back any longer. All my fears and frustration bubbled to the surface and overwhelmed my tenuous hold on sanity. A tear slid down my cheek, followed by another and another until the faucet was cranked wide open. A heart-wrenching sob tore itself from my chest, where it’d been lodged most of the day.