“Over here.” Patrick tugged gently on my arm and guided me to a more private location off the main hallway. “Did my bastard brother do something to hurt you?”
“Not really,” I blubbered.
“Then why are you crying?” He put his arms around me, and I fell into them. I needed comfort from someone who would understand, and who understood his brother more than Patrick? Sobs racked my body, rendering me incapable of coherent speech. Patrick held on to me, rubbing my back like my mother once had. Getting a handle on myself, I lifted my tear-stained face to his.
“What’s going on?” he asked softly.
“It’s Pax. He’s drawing away. Stuff started falling apart after the Sockeyes spoke to him. It’s been downhill from there. He’s going to break up with me, he just hasn’t done it yet.”
“He’s prolonging the agony?”
“You could say that.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you guys were that serious.” Guilt laced Patrick’s voice, and I momentarily wondered what he had to be guilty about, but my misery overrode my curiosity. I discounted what I thought I heard from my overactive imagination.
“Shit happened so fast. I didn’t even realize how deeply I was involved until things started going sideways.”
Patrick patted my back and kissed my forehead. “Oh, baby, I’m so very sorry for you. Pax is going through some things right now. We all are. He’s struggling and perhaps this wasn’t a good time for him to start a serious relationship with anyone.”
“I know. I know!” I wailed and buried my head in his chest to muffle the noise. I’d be mortified if anyone else saw us. He stroked my hair, playing the part of the big brother I’d never had.
“Naomi, you do realize how fond I am of you?”
I looked up at him, gripping fistfuls of his now tear-stained shirt and nodded. “I am of you, too.”
“I hate to see either one of you get hurt, but it’s probably inevitable that Pax will back off. His focus needs to be on hockey. Neither of us can afford the distractions. I understand where he’s coming from. His game finally got back to normal on Saturday night.”
“You like how he played Saturday night?” I bristled and pushed away from Patrick.
“Well, yeah, we were a team again, instead of him trying to be the lone ranger.”
“Is that how you see it?” Anger rolled through me. Indignance replaced my sorrow as I sought to defend Pax. Patrick didn’t get it.
“Yeah.” Patrick regarded me warily.
“Just because he’s not passing the puck so you can have all the glory rather than taking his shots when he sees them?”
“Hey, calm down. Things are rocky between us. Lots of changes coming are making us both nervous.” Patrick clearly didn’t want to discuss his brother’s play with me or get in an argument. He patted my shoulder in a brotherly manner.
I sniffed and gazed up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m emotional right now. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that.”
He shrugged and grinned at me. “It’s okay. Really. What are friends for?”
I gave him another hug just as my dad showed up. His brow furrowed as he swung his gaze from me to Patrick and back. I pushed away from Patrick.
“Sorry I’m late. I have another obligation. Can you wait?” Dad said. He nodded briskly at Patrick.
“I can’t, Dad.” I ignored the curious stare Dad cast in our direction.
“I’m sorry. I’ll catch you later, honey.” After a quick hug, my dad walked away. He paused at the end of the hallway, glancing over his shoulder one final time.
“Do you think he’s reading more into this than there is?” Patrick asked.
I shrugged, not wanting to deal with any additional drama. “Who knows. Right now, his suspicions are the least of my problems. I have to get to my study group. Thanks for the shoulder to cry on.”
“Anytime, Omi.” Patrick turned in the opposite direction toward the locker room.
I left the building and hurried to my study group, feeling a little better. Paxton and I would get through this. We had to. He needed time, that was all. He was overwhelmed right now with all the changes in his life and the pressures on him to perform.
The least I could do was take the pressure off him when it came to us.
33
Busted
Paxton
Sex with Naomi last Sunday night had been almost frantic in our desperation. We clung to each other even as our relationship slipped out of our fingers. Neither of us had a clue how to hold on to what we had.
We’d texted each other and talked last night, but I hadn’t seen her since. It was already Wednesday afternoon, and I fucking missed her so much my body ached from emotional pain. A piercing headache hit me right between the eyes, and I wondered if Coach Garf had a crystal for that.
Doubts assailed me as I ran through my various conversations with Patrick, my dad, and the Sockeyes. I didn’t know what to do. Without Naomi as my sounding board, I was a ship adrift at sea in a growing storm. Yet my family and future teammates insinuated Naomi was or could be part of my problem.
Was she?
Or was she my solution?
I was a hot fucking mess. This wasn’t like me. I was the grounded one. The serious guy who knew what he was doing and where he was going. Or I’d thought I did. Perhaps it was all a façade, and I was as clueless as any other college student regarding my future.
I turned down the empty hallway outside the rink near the coaches’ offices. I was early for my private session with Coach Garf. He wasn’t in his office. I wandered down the hallway aimlessly, debating on whether or not to put on my skates and take to the ice or call it a night.
I heard muffled voices and instantly recognized both of them. Naomi and Patrick. What the fuck? My curiosity got the best of me, and I snuck closer. My headache intensified. I rubbed the crystals in a last-ditch attempt to calm myself. They didn’t calm me one fucking bit.
I crept toward the side hall, my heart pounding in my chest and my body tensed.
Holding my breath, I peeked around the corner. Naomi had her back to me as she clung to my brother. Her head was tilted upward, and their mouths were too close together. Patrick was so intent on gazing into her eyes, he didn’t see me. She gripped his shirt as she leaned into him, and he had his arms around her waist.
Bile rose in my throat, and I feared I might be physically sick. I backed down the hall as quiet as could be. As soon as I got to the locker room, I escaped into it. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps and an exit door open and shut.
The roaring in my ears deafened me, despite the silence in the locker room.
Naomi and my brother.
Everything she’d told me about how I was the one had been a lie. And what about Patrick? I thought his concern about my relationship with Naomi had been out of brotherly love rather than wanting her to himself. What a fucking fool I’d been.
No one would be able to fake the chemistry we had when it came to sex, but even so, our explosive love life didn’t appear to be enough.
I sat down on a bench and stared at the cold concrete block walls. My mind was numb. My body was numb. Fuck, even my heart had gone numb. I might as well have been standing naked in sub-zero temperatures for an hour. Everything froze inside me.
With a great effort, I got to my feet and grabbed my skates out of my locker. After my mom had died, I’d turned to skating as my therapy. I don’t know how many miles I racked up in the rink late at night, but it’d been a lot.
As my blades glided across the smooth surface, I began to unthaw. I started to feel real pain, heart-deep and gut-wrenching.
I’d fucking fallen in love with her. I’d always been crazy about her, but I’d gone far beyond that. I’d convinced myself she was my forever love or some stupid-assed romantic bullshit like that.
All hockey, all the time. Only hockey. All I need is hockey, I chanted as I skated faster and faster around the rink. Affirmations
, I had to remember affirmations, like Coach taught me. If I said it enough, my subconscious would find a way to make it come true, except when it involved other people. My subconscious couldn’t make Naomi love me.
I skated harder, pushing my body beyond its limits and ignoring its protests at the abuse.
Hockey. All Hockey. Hockey is all that matters. Concentrate only on hockey.
Everyone in my life had betrayed me, but hockey was always there.
Beyond my heart straining to keep up and my lungs gasping for more oxygen, I heard something.
I wasn’t alone.
Fuck.
I bent down, hands on my knees, and coasted, finally allowing my body to recover from the punishment I’d given it. The sound of skates pushing across the ice came closer. I didn’t look for fear I’d see Patrick, and I didn’t want to deal with him right now.
“Paxton!” The voice was familiar. I turned slightly to see Gene Smith bearing down on me. He caught me easily now that I’d stopped my frantic race around the ice.
“I’m impressed,” he said as he slowed beside me. “I didn’t know you were capable of skating that hard.”
His words both insulted and flattered at the same time. I didn’t answer him because how did a guy answer a statement like that?
Thank you for not having any faith in my abilities?
Thank you for discounting me like my father always has?
Nah, better to zip the lips than disrespect one of the greatest hockey players who ever lived even if he did disrespect me.
Mr. Smith narrowed his gaze and studied me closer. “Are you okay?”
Shit, was it that obvious?
“Fine,” I lied.
“Right. Follow me. Let’s have a talk.” He wasn’t asking, he was ordering. Skating away, he stepped off the ice and sat down in one of the seats on the glass. Reluctantly, I sat next to him. Still breathing hard and covered in sweat, I wiped my brow with my sleeve and focused on a point across the ice.
“Is this about Naomi?”
How the fuck did he guess that? I shot him a questioning look, and he nodded, knowing he’d guessed correctly.
“Paxton, you’re a good kid, and I like you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Naomi is the female version of your brother. She’s a heartbreaker.”
I nodded, as if I didn’t know.
“You have to know she’s always been enamored of Patrick.”
I clenched my jaw so hard I expected it to shatter under the pressure.
“You have a lot going for you. Just watching you tonight, I see what Coach Garf sees in you. I predict you’ll have a long and successful career in the league.”
“Thank you.” I managed to choke out the words, even as my throat closed up.
“I love my daughter, but she has her faults. She doesn’t know what she wants. She often changes for who she’s with, trying to become what she thinks they want. I fear she used you as a surrogate for your twin. When did she start showing interest in you as more than a friend?”
I met his gaze as the realization slammed me like a fist to my gut. “When I began to play better, and Patrick struggled a little.”
“I’m somewhat responsible for her behavior. I was so upset she wasn’t a competitive skater or hockey player, in fact is scared to death of skating, I pushed her toward dating a hockey player who was going somewhere. It’s hard to leave behind the sport you’ve dedicated your life to, and I’m no different. I wanted to live vicariously through a young player on the verge of an illustrious career. I wanted to witness those feelings again, even if I wasn’t the one in that situation.”
“You think she started showing interest because I was the star for a while and went back to my brother when he regained his star status?”
Mr. Smith—Gene—didn’t answer my question directly. “You don’t need to settle. You have too much going for you. Find someone who will love you for the person you are, not because they’re torn between you and your brother and can’t make up their mind.”
“Did she say something to you? Do you know something?” Was he speculating or did he have more knowledge?
Mr. Smith smiled sympathetically and patted my arm. I hated the pity I saw in his eyes. “No, but trust me. I know.”
Then I realized the truth. He was in this building tonight. “You saw them this evening, too, didn’t you?”
He nodded. The sympathy in his eyes almost undid me. I wasn’t imagining things. He’d drawn the same conclusions. “Naomi is confused and conflicted. Do you want to subject yourself to a back-and-forth that’ll destroy your confidence and eventually ruin your career?”
“Uh, no.”
“She needs several more years to mature. She’s a late bloomer. Did you realize she was looking into transferring to Vegas next year?”
“She is?” That made sense on one level. Her dad lived in Vegas the majority of the time. On the other hand, she hated being under his thumb. A move to Vegas would land her right back in that situation. Which brought me to the conclusion she was following Patrick to Vegas, assuming he went pro next season.
“That’s what I understand.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith, for your honestly. I do appreciate it.”
“Call me Gene.” He stood, squeezed my shoulder, and clomped down the hallway in his skates.
I sat in the arena for a long time, running through options in my head. As hard as I tried to find another solution, I came back to the same one every time.
34
Not Okay
Naomi
Kaitlyn might not be my most sympathetic friend, but she was the most honest.
On Thursday night, I sat in the team laundry room and spilled my woes to her. She listened without comment as she folded towels.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked when I finished my sad tale.
“I think you worry too much.” She rolled her eyes and blew out an exasperated breath.
“That’s not helpful.”
“Fine. I’m guessing he’s getting a shit-ton of advice from a shit-ton of directions. He’s at a loss as to what to do, and you are being presented by some as part of his problem.”
“So what should I do?”
“Stop fretting so much. Worrying only makes you crazy and doesn’t solve anything. Whatever happens will happen.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Look, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. If he wants space, give him space. He’ll be back.”
My phone beeped, and I looked down.
Paxton: Can we meet tonight?
“It’s him. He wants to meet.” I grinned at Kaitlyn, unable to contain my joy at hearing from him.
“I told you there was nothing to worry about. That boy is crazy about you.” Kaitlyn smiled, as if she considered me too dense to have seen the obvious.
Me: Sure, my place or yours?
Paxton: The Biscuit would be best.
My heart nose-dived. I wasn’t getting such a good feeling about this. “He wants to meet at the Biscuit?”
“The Biscuit? What the fuck? That’s—” Kaitlyn stopped when she saw the stricken look on my face.
“Nowhere to make up,” I finished for her. “He’s breaking things off completely.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do, and so do you. I can see it on your face.”
“I’m sorry, Omi. I really am.”
“I need to go.” I sniffled and choked back a sob. I had to find a private place to break down, and this wasn’t it. I hurried to the door and rushed down the hall.
“I’ll be available if you need to talk. Doesn’t matter how late it is,” Kaitlyn called after me.
I ran all the way to the dorm, tears streaming down my face, ignoring the curious stares as I streaked by. I took the stairs rather than the elevator and didn’t stop running until I was safely inside my dorm room. I threw myself down on the bed and cried until my eyes were devoid of tears and my throat was dry and scratchy.
An hour later, I showered and put on my makeup. I opted for skinny jeans and a tight blouse, which I buttoned to show a good amount of cleavage. A wicked part of me wanted to show him what he’d be missing if he ended it. Petty, but also gave me a measure of control over my fate.
I’d make this easy on him, except for the cleavage view. I’d suggest we break up before he did. If he jumped at the suggestion, I’d have my answer. If he fought for us, I’d also have my answer.
Paxton was being pulled in all directions, and I wasn’t helping matters any. If you loved someone, you sacrificed for them. I’d never sacrificed for anyone before. Tonight, I’d give Pax the ultimate gift. I’d set him free and see if he wanted freedom or me.
On my way out the door, I grabbed the ice skates he’d bought me. No matter what happened, I wasn’t wearing those damn things.
Paxton was sitting at a private table when I walked in. He looked up, and his gaze went right to my breasts, clearly showcased by my blouse. He swallowed and raised his eyes to my face. I glanced at the hockey table, relieved to find it empty of hockey players. The last thing I wanted was an audience witnessing whatever happened.
Determined, I strode toward him. His eyes followed me, but his expression gave nothing away except for the firm set of his jaw. I dropped into the chair across from him.
“I took the liberty of buying you a beer. I hope it’s not warm. I’ve been here awhile.” He pushed the beer across the table toward me.
“Thank you,” I said primly and took a sip. I needed alcohol to get through the night. I raised my head and met his gaze with determination. He wore his game face, one of grit and conviction, but not revealing much else.
“Naomi, I—”
“Paxton, I—” We both spoke at the same time.
Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance Page 18
