Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Jami Davenport

  He chuckled nervously and gripped his beer glass. “You first.”

  I didn’t wait for a second invitation. I’d get this over with. If things fell to pieces, I’d return to the privacy of my dorm room, wallow in my grief, and have another ugly cry.

  The man was so freaking gorgeous, and I drank in his face, memorizing the curves and contours, the little laugh lines in the corners of his deep blue eyes, the furrow in his brow when he was being super-serious, that short, neatly trimmed beard, which had abraded my sensitive skin in the sexiest manner on so many occasions.

  “Go ahead,” he prompted.

  I cleared my throat, heaved a big sigh, and barreled ahead. “Paxton, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now, and I don’t want to add to it. Maybe it’s best we go our separate ways. Take care of business first. Relationships can wait.”

  He breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled sadly at me. “I was going to suggest the same thing.”

  My heart sank so low it was drowning in sorrow somewhere in the depths of my stomach. He wasn’t going to fight for me—for us. If anything, he was relieved. I had my answer, and it wasn’t the one I wanted, but nevertheless, at least it was an answer.

  “It’s for the best,” I said, surprising myself at how calm and reasonable I sounded considering my inner turmoil.

  “That doesn’t mean that, down the road, we might not meet again.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. In a few years, when your career is established, and I’m—” I trailed off, not sure how to finish my statement. I didn’t know where I’d be, but I was ninety-nine percent sure my location wouldn’t be Seattle.

  “Sure. We don’t know what the future holds. I’m sorry.” He took my hands in his. “These last few months with you were some of the best of my life. I’m going to miss you.”

  “We can still hang out. We won’t be dating, but that shouldn’t stop us from being friends.”

  “Yeah, of course we’re still friends.” I heard the reluctance in his voice.

  “By the way, my internship ends in a few weeks. I won’t be traveling with the team after break. That’ll make this easier.”

  He nodded, still wearing his game face, not giving me a glimpse into how he was feeling or what he was thinking.

  “Well, I have studying to do.” I pushed back my chair and stood. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I was struck by a lightning bolt of clarity. Was I doing the wrong thing? Should I have been the one to fight for him? For us?

  The moment passed quickly. I leaned down and brushed my lips briefly against his mouth. Straightening, I pointed to the ice skates. “I didn’t get a chance to return these.”

  I grabbed my purse, spun on my heel, and ran to the door. I shoved the door open, barreling into Patrick. He reached out to steady me, but I pushed past him.

  “Naomi? Are you okay?”

  I kept going, grateful he didn’t follow me.

  I was not okay. Far from it.

  35

  Winner of the Game

  Paxton

  My heart followed Naomi out the door. Sadness weighted down my body. Grief blurred my vision. Numbness paralyzed me.

  I gritted my teeth and fisted my hands when I saw her interact with my brother at the door. She was free of me, and they were free to do whatever they pleased with each other.

  Please, God, don’t let something happen under my nose.

  I half expected Patrick to go after her. Instead, he pushed past the door and glanced around. His face reddened with anger when he spotted me.

  Patrick marched in my direction like a man on a mission. I braced myself for whatever might come next. He stopped in front of me, hands on his hips and chin stuck out belligerently. I stole a glance at the hockey table, where, at some point in the past few minutes, multiple teammates and their girlfriends were now sitting. Some were watching us, like the trailers were over and the main movie had started.

  “What the fuck was that all about?” Patrick hissed at me.

  “Sit your ass down, Captain. We have an audience.” I pointed with my chin toward the hockey table.

  Patrick glanced over his shoulder and winced. He quickly slid into the chair Naomi had vacated after she’d ripped my world apart.

  My twin leaned across the table, his voice low but threatening. “She’s crying. What did you do to her?”

  “She broke up with me, asshole. I didn’t do a fucking thing.” The huskiness in my voice betrayed the raw emotions too close to the surface.

  He sat back as if I’d slapped him. “She dumped you?”

  “Yeah, you happy now? You can’t stand when I have something you don’t, can you? You have to fuck it up for me because you have to be king.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I had nothing to do with this. Maybe she’d had enough of your sorry ass and your pity parties. You’ve been moping around a lot.”

  “My pity parties?” I half rose from my chair until I caught the multiple sets of eyes intent on us. I sat back down. “You’ve been pouting half the season because I wasn’t giving you scoring opps.”

  “Fuck you. I have not been. You’re the moper.”

  “I haven’t been moping. I’ve been thinking about my future. You should try it sometime, but maybe that’s beyond what your feeble brain can handle.”

  “You wanna take this outside?” Patrick fisted his hands on the table. I looked down at those fists and supreme sadness washed over me. Not only had I lost Naomi, I’d also lost my brother. My two best friends in this world…

  Maybe I was having a pity party.

  I lifted my gaze and met Patrick’s defiant glare. We stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity. Over the years, we’d gotten in a few scuffles, especially in our teenage years, but we’d never come to blows.

  I looked away first, hating myself for doing it, but I did it for the team. Patrick wouldn’t have backed down. It wasn’t in his nature. Maybe it shouldn’t be in mine either. Maybe that’s the missing piece Coach was trying to instill in me—that fighting spirit that never gave up.

  “Coward,” Patrick whispered.

  “Team player,” I shot back.

  “Coulda fooled me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Patrick sneered at me. “You figure it out.” He shoved his chair back so hard it hit the person sitting behind him. “Sorry,” he muttered, ignoring their scathing glare. He stomped out of the Biscuit, not even acknowledging our teammates.

  I stayed where I was, not wanting to go home and not wanting to stay here.

  “Paxton.”

  Lex studied me with his brow furrowed in concern. Not waiting for an invitation, he sat down. “You look like you could use a friend.”

  “Maybe.” I ordered tequila on the rocks from the waitress walking past my table.

  “You guys aren’t fooling anyone. Every guy on the team feels the tension between you two.”

  I shrugged, not knowing what to say.

  “Have you ever considered he might have a legit complaint?”

  “What?” I gaped at Lex. He was usually on my side.

  “Maybe you aren’t passing the puck to Patrick when you should be. Maybe both of you share some of the responsibility in this rift between you?”

  “Coach would’ve said something if he thought I was hogging the puck.” I defended my actions, even as doubt crept it.

  “Coach isn’t out on the ice. You are. And maybe he’s letting you two work this out on your own. He doesn’t want to discourage your aggressive shooting by contradicting himself and telling you to shoot less. I don’t know. I’ve seen moments in the past where you played with Patrick as if you two were in each other’s heads, like you were one mind and body. It was sheer poetry in motion to watch the two of you take apart a defense. Now I see two guys out for themselves.”

  “I’m not out for myself.”

  “Not on purpose. You’re doing what you need to do.
All I’m suggesting is you might have overdone your part a little. Not much. But a little and added to Patrick’s frustration. Just think about it. You know I’ve always got your back.”

  I nodded, but I was resistant to Lex’s claims. If I wasn’t doing what Coach wanted, he’d have told me. I knew he would’ve.

  “And Naomi. She was upset when she ran out of here.”

  I heaved a sigh and met Lex’s gaze. “She dumped me.”

  “She did? For Patrick? Is that what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I think so.” I put my head in my hands and groaned. I had a splitting headache to go with my broken heart.

  “Ah, man, I’m sorry. That’s brutal.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I wonder if Kaitlyn knows anything.”

  “I’d prefer you not ask her. It’s over. I saw Naomi and Patrick together.”

  “Together?”

  “Not fucking, if that’s what you’re thinking. They were hugging and staring into each other’s eyes. It was pretty obvious.”

  “That sucks on all kinds of levels.”

  “Don’t I know it. I’ve been screwed by my brother and my girlfriend, taken for a fool.”

  “Did you ask them about it?”

  “Nah. She dumped me before I had a chance. Seems like a moot point. Her dad saw them, too, and talked to me. She’s torn between my brother and me, and I don’t want to be jerked around for God knows how long until she figures out which one of us she wants. From where I’m standing, Patrick’s looking like the winner of this game.”

  I took a long gulp of tequila, hoping the liquor would dull my pain a little. Not that it’d worked well before, but right now it was all I had.

  36

  Already Gone

  Naomi

  I was inconsolable. I hid out in my dorm room all weekend and didn’t travel with the team to their last weekend of away games before Christmas break, claiming to have the flu.

  I hadn’t planned on watching Pax play, but I tuned in anyway for a good torture session, reminding me of what I’d lost.

  Paxton’s play on Friday night was unremarkable. What glimpses I saw of his face revealed frustration and futility. In the second period, Coach Keller moved him to the second line. Without Patrick scowling at him, he settled down and played decently. On Saturday night, Pax came out red-hot. I saw the determination on his face, as if during the last twenty-four hours, he’d had an attitude adjustment. He was everywhere on the ice, with power and gutty resolve. He took a few brutal hits and didn’t back down. He scored one goal on Friday and two on Saturday, while Patrick had one on Friday and none on Saturday.

  Several times, I punched out a text to Pax and didn’t send it. We’d vowed to remain friends, yet we weren’t communicating. I’d hurt him when I’d broken it off, thinking I was doing the best thing for him. Now I wasn’t so sure. Perhaps I’d made a rash decision based on pride rather than logic. Maybe I hadn’t been protecting him but protecting myself.

  Kaitlyn was with the team that weekend, so I wasn’t able to get her unfiltered opinion. Instead, I was a pathetic hot mess. I barely got out of bed and hadn’t taken a shower since Friday morning. Finally, Sunday afternoon, I dragged my sorry ass out of bed, took a shower, and washed my hair. I felt a little better. Even tried to study, but I couldn’t concentrate.

  Instead, I did something completely out of the ordinary. I called my dad. If anyone knew about juggling hockey and a relationship, he did, even if he hadn’t done it well. He’d met my mom in the minors and married her his first year in the league.

  He might be able to shed some light on what was going on in Paxton’s head. My dad didn’t pick up, so I left a message. He usually called back within a few hours.

  Still restless and unable to crack the books, I called Kaitlyn. She also didn’t pick up, but she texted me within ten seconds.

  Kaitlyn: At Biscuit. Join us. Pax is here.

  I resisted the urge to ask if he was with anyone, but she read my mind.

  Kaitlyn: He’s alone and looking like a whipped puppy. Really pathetic. What’s going on?

  Me: I’ll explain later.

  Kaitlyn: Are you coming to the Biscuit?

  Me: I can’t tonight. Catch up with you later.

  Kaitlyn: Later.

  She didn’t know about Pax and me?

  Or she had a more nefarious plot in mind, such as pushing us back together? Imagining Kaitlyn as a matchmaker made me laugh. That wasn’t her style. She didn’t get involved in others’ problems to that extent.

  I went to the dining hall and had a salad from the salad bar, content in the knowledge I wouldn’t run into Pax. I slumped down in one of the plastic chairs in the mostly deserted area and toyed with my food.

  “Hey, want some company?”

  I looked up and sighed. I should’ve found a more private place so I’d be able to eat in peace. Patrick approached with a tray filled with food. He didn’t wait for an answer but sat down across from me.

  “I heard you broke up with my brother.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Actually, he did.”

  “Oh. Are you two friendly again?”

  “No.” Patrick scowled, but pain flashed in his blue eyes.

  “Maybe it’s time you cleared the air and discussed what’s bothering both of you.” My suggestion was merely as a good friend. I cared about both of them and hated to see them hurting like this.

  He shrugged and bit into his burger.

  “Your differences are hurting the team.”

  “We won, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, but I watched, and I’m not Gene Smith’s daughter for nothing. I saw the rift between you two before Coach moved Paxton to the second line. Your team had to be feeling it. As captain, isn’t it your responsibility to seek solutions to grievances among team members? Even if it’s you and your brother?”

  Patrick stopped in mid-chew. I’d hit a sore spot, and he didn’t like me pointing out where he might’ve failed as a captain.

  He finished chewing and put down the burger, methodically wiping his hands with a napkin and taking a drink of water as he considered my words.

  “You know I’m right,” I prodded. “You two were so close. This has to be eating you up inside. It’s too late for Paxton and me, but it’s not too late for the two of you.”

  Patrick scrubbed his face with his hands. “I guess so,” he admitted grudgingly. “He was my best friend.”

  “He can be again. This is a minor setback based on pressures in your lives.”

  “Pressures?”

  “Yeah, school, going pro, upping your level of play. That kind of stuff.”

  “Maybe.” He wasn’t committing to anything.

  “He’s at the Biscuit. Go talk to him.”

  “Yeah, I will.” Patrick finished his burger and excused himself. He bussed his tray and left the dining hall. I hoped to God I’d done the right thing pushing those two together.

  It was time for them to mend fences, even if Paxton and I couldn’t.

  I returned to my lonely dorm room haunted by the many nights and some afternoons Pax and I had spent naked in this room, cuddled together on the small bed or sitting up and eating popcorn to restore our energy before the next round of sex.

  My phone rang, and I answered my Dad’s call.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, honey, sorry I missed your call. I was working a game tonight.” Dad’s attitude had improved considerably since he’d started working again. My dad needed a job to be happy, and this temporary gig with the league made him happier than I’d seen him in a while.

  “Glad to see you enjoying yourself, Dad.”

  “Yeah, this has been good for me. Keeps me out of your hair.” He laughed and so did I.

  “Your team played well this weekend. How was the trip?”

  “I didn’t go, but I watched on TV.”

  “You didn’t go? Are you sick?”

  “Not physic
ally.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I didn’t…I didn’t feel like going.”

  He was silent for a long while, and I tilted the phone to see the display screen to make sure he was still on the line. “What’s going on?” His voice was quiet, as if he were tiptoeing through enemy lines and didn’t want anyone to hear him. Alarm bells sounded in my head, but I didn’t know why. Something was off.

  “I broke up with Paxton.” His name came out on a choked sob.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s for the best. You shouldn’t have been leading that poor kid on like that when he wasn’t the one for you.”

  I frowned into the phone, as if he could see me. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you and Patrick having an intimate moment.”

  “What?” I was incredulous and confused. “Are you sure it was Patrick?”

  “Absolutely. I spoke with Paxton that evening about it. Seems he saw you two also.”

  “I don’t understand.” I racked my brain, trying to remember an intimate moment I’d had with Patrick, but there weren’t any. “Where did you see us?”

  “Last week, in the hallway by the locker room.”

  Oh, no. The truth crashed down on me. Paxton had seen me, and he’d planned to set me free to be with his brother, but I’d beaten him to it and broken it off with him first, proving his suspicions.

  “He and I met in the rink that night, and we had a heart-to-heart. I told him he should concentrate on hockey and that you’d always loved Patrick. I tried to let the kid down easy.”

  “Dad, Patrick was consoling me because I was upset about Pax backing off from me. I’m not in love with Patrick. I don’t believe I ever was. It’s always been Paxton, but I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to please others. You wanted me to be with Patrick, and I obliged by convincing myself that’s what I wanted.”

  “Omi, I never meant to cause you pain and take away your happiness. I…I thought I was doing what was right for you. I’ve fucked things up, haven’t I?”