Breakaway (The Rule Book Collection)

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Breakaway (The Rule Book Collection) Page 5

by A. M. Johnson


  I took a step back, relieving myself of his familiar scent, his heat. We were each other’s comfort food. The ice cream that was really bad for you, and you only needed as a crutch to get over whatever life was throwing at you.

  “I should’ve been a better husband.”

  I gave him a small smile and a teasing push to the shoulder. “Remember that. Treat her right, Ben. When you find her, treat her as if you can’t breathe without her.”

  “You were always such a romantic.”

  And you weren’t.

  “I know, I’m hopeless,” I admitted and his smile reached his eyes.

  “You sure you don’t want to ride with me?”

  “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  Ben took a half-step toward me and hesitated as if he thought better of it. His throat bobbed and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Bye, Stevie.”

  I gave him a small smile, the embers of anticipation lighting my skin, as I watched my past walk away through the same bar door that my future had left only moments before.

  Never Google search the hot guy who asked for your number, before nine in the morning. I was knee deep in Mark Carmelo and I’d only had one cup of coffee. It was all Alec’s fault really. He’d fed me all that intel last night and I got curious. Curious was harmless, right? A quick little search and I’d be fine. Forty-five minutes later, and I was well-versed in Mark’s stats, how much he made each year, which by the way, made me nauseous, to what underwear he preferred. And I might’ve watched a few video interviews where he avoided topics about a girl named Mia, and his less-than-stellar behavior when he was a rookie. I never intended to snoop, and now I was wide-eyed, staring at my computer screen feeling awful, like I’d invaded his privacy.

  “Stevie?” Alec’s voice had me shutting my laptop faster than I could say stalker.

  “Good morning,” I said, hoping my tone was more casual and less hand caught in the Carmelo cookie jar.

  “Hey, pull up that file I sent you yesterday and meet Trent and me in the conference room.”

  “Bruin Brothers Construction?”

  “That’s the one. Small contractor, but a great account for you to start with.” His eyes fell to my laptop. “You ready to roll?”

  “Sure, let me grab everything. I’ll be there in five.”

  “Want me to have David get you a coffee?”

  Maybe I liked Alec more than I thought I did. “Yes, thank you.”

  He left without a nod, and I locked my desktop and grabbed the paperwork I’d printed out earlier. I stood and smoothed my hands down the front of my pencil skirt. This was it. My first account. I could do this. Excitement bubbled in my chest and I couldn’t contain my smile. I straightened the hem of my blouse making sure I was presentable. I was readying to leave when my phone vibrated against the desk.

  Mark: How’s your morning?

  Slowly, I sank back into my chair, a giddy smile creeping across my face.

  ME: At work, only one cup of coffee. It’s ugly. You?

  Mark: About to skate. Are you sitting at your desk?

  I let out a quiet laugh at his odd question.

  ME: About to go into a meeting.

  Mark: Please tell me you’re wearing those sexy-as-fuck glasses you had on last night.

  My cheeks flushed with heat. At the compliment. At the word fuck. My fingers lightly touched the rims of my glasses and I bit my lip.

  ME: It’s a possibility.

  Mark: Hair up or down?

  My eyes darted to the open door of my office. I was sure my face was red. My hand shook as I typed the next message.

  ME: Up

  Mark: Jesus Christ, I’m going to skate for shit today.

  My laugh sounded more like a giggle, and I lost my grown woman card for the day.

  ME: Why?

  Mark: Because I’m going to be picturing you behind that desk, looking like a sexy fucking librarian, and I’ll be VERY distracted.

  A pool of warmth poured over my body.

  ME: I hear you have a pretty good shooting percentage, best in the league, I’m sure you’ll be fine.

  After I hit send I regretted it immediately. He hadn’t told me who he was at first for a reason and I just quoted the Internet like a fangirl.

  David walked by the door with a tray of Starbucks and I stood. “Better hurry, Mama, don’t be late. Trent gets cranky.”

  Anxiety had me scrambling to make sure I had everything, but thirty seconds later my phone vibrated again, and I couldn’t contain the smile on my face.

  Mark: Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet. ;)

  ME: So you didn’t streak through the parking lot of your alma mater when you won your first playoff game as a freshman?

  His response this time was immediate.

  Mark: Oh, hell yes, that’s totally true. One of my best nights.

  My smile was borderline star struck.

  ME: I’d pay good money for that footage.

  Mark: Good luck with that.

  I exhaled a nervous laugh, grabbed the things I needed for my meeting, and headed down the hall. Trent and Alec were talking and setting up their own computers… luckily, the client hadn’t arrived.

  “Sorry, had to get everything organized,” I stammered, thinking about how my face was most likely blotched with red.

  “No problem. Have a seat, we’ll get started as soon as they get here.” Trent nodded to where David had set a huge cup of coffee next to Alec’s computer.

  David was officially my favorite person in Tampa. Well, almost.

  I opened my computer, setting the paperwork to the side for Alec to go over. Once I was in my seat, I chanced a peek at my phone and had a text waiting.

  Mark: I fly out tomorrow, and should be back pretty late next Thursday night. That Friday still work for you?

  My colleagues were busy in their own conversation so I risked sending him an answer.

  ME: Friday works.

  Mark: I’ll text you when I get in Thursday if it’s not too late.

  ME: Sounds good.

  The memory of his skin, the heat of it on my cheek, had my heart pounding in my chest. There were so many things I should’ve been worrying about. For one, I’d bought a house. I was starting over, and wasn’t it weird that I was seven years older than him? He was a young, crazy-talented athlete with a schedule that made me tired just thinking about it. How was this going to work? Should it even matter at this point?

  Mark: Gotta skate. Thanks again for the mental image.

  I had to stifle my laugh.

  ME: Any time.

  Mark: Hope so. Talk soon.

  This little exchange of words had me tripping over the beat of my own heart. Messy and hot. I closed my eyes for only a second and I could picture his smile. It made my belly feel full and whole. “Talk soon.” God I hated how much I really needed that to happen. I was humming from the inside out.

  “You ready to get started, Stevie?” Trent’s question opened my eyes.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  In more ways than one.

  Heading into a three-game road trip after losing our first and only game wasn’t ideal. In fact, the team’s confidence had been waning since yesterday’s morning practice. Coach had messed with the lines, experimenting with the chemistry of the team, but inevitably left the roster as it was. I leaned my head back into the cool leather of my seat and exhaled a long breath. The atmosphere on the plane seemed hopeful, as I slipped on my earbuds in an effort to drown out the loud laughter of my teammates. I loaded up the music app on my phone. My eyes closed, letting the bass fill my head and my shoulders relaxed. We could do this, our team, we’d been so close last year to winning the Cup. We had the chemistry Coach wanted, we had all the fucking tools. We just needed to pull our heads out of our asses and use them.

  I was about to doze off when someone shoved me in the shoulder. “The hell, Jensen?” I muttered as I pulled one of my earbuds down only to hear my team Captain laughing like an ass
hole.

  “Bro, we still have two hours before we get to Detroit, and you’re already falling asleep.”

  “I always sleep,” I said as I pressed pause, silencing the music.

  He shrugged his shoulders and shoved me again. Bryson’s smile dipped as he settled into the seat next to me. He let his eyes dart around the cabin. The guys were all awake, talking shit, and flirting with the flight attendants as usual. Bryson’s speculative gaze landed on me.

  “What?” I asked with a slip of irritation.

  “You gonna be on point in Columbus?”

  Fuck that.

  “I’m always on point, maybe ask Rasmussen if he’s figured out how to tape his own damn stick.”

  Rasmussen was a rookie left winger picked up from a small private college in Michigan this past June. He’d showed up to play this summer at camp, and hell, he had skills. Too much attitude and ego, though. The small amount of time he’d spent on the ice this last game was a disaster, but Coach had high expectations for him, placing him on our starting line.

  “Rasmussen can handle his shit, Melo… I’m asking you… you got Columbus handled? If not—”

  “Fuck off, Jensen. Yes, I have it handled.” His narrowed eyes begged to differ. “Yes, goddamn it, alright. Lynch isn’t gonna fuck with my head.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled a noisy breath. “It’s been two years.”

  “Yeah, and every time we play them one of your asses ends up in the box and this game is too important to—”

  “I have it handled. Mia… Lynch—old fucking news.”

  He watched me cautiously for a second before he let out a short huff and leaned back into the seat. “Good, ‘cause I want to destroy those fuckers.”

  “They have it coming.”

  He smiled. “Fuck yeah, they do. They’ve won their first two games. They look tight, Melo.”

  “Let’s get through Detroit and New Jersey before we worry about Columbus.”

  I was about to pop my earpiece in again when he said, “You good?”

  Bryson was being a good team Captain. He looked out for me, for all of us. Mia was a mental game I lost every damn time I played it. Mia and I had been together a little over two years. I’d met her the summer after I’d turned twenty-one. She’d been hired on as our skate coach. Once a top figure skater in her prime, she’d become the perfect addition to the team. It didn’t help though that she was drop dead gorgeous and had all the guys tripping over their own skates trying to get dibs and into her pants. Mia was the type of girl who knew what she wanted and never took no for an answer. At the time, she wanted me, and I’d felt like I’d hit the fucking lottery.

  She was fit, smart, funny. Mia loved the game as much as she loved to skate, and the fact that she was unaffected by any of our stardom bullshit made her even more tempting. It was like she was one of us. Back then, I never thought I was ready to be a one-woman guy. I’d been just two seasons from my rookie year, my own star growing and building a strong foundation. She’d liked what she saw in me, and man, I fell for all her bullshit.

  “I’m good.” I swallowed twice before I said, “It’s been a long time, and yeah, she fucking burned me, Bryson, but I’m over it. I’m not going to give the media something to chew on for the entire season, okay.”

  “Tyler Lynch has always had your number, bro, and even if you’re over Mia, you’re not over it. When was the last time you got laid?”

  Training camp. This summer. But hell, it wasn’t his business.

  “You keeping tabs, Jensen? Why? You want a ride?”

  His laugh rumbled in his chest. “If I was in to guys…”

  My eyebrows hit the cabin roof as I chuckled. “I think you’d be in to it no matter what.”

  He smirked. “I’m not too picky.”

  His grin made me laugh and I shook my head. “No… no, you’re really not.”

  Bryson’s tendencies to bang whatever bunny got to him first made us all cringe. The guy could have the pick of the litter but his whole, “first come—first serve” policy made us all question his sanity.

  His laughter died down. “For what it’s worth, Melo… if I had to play against a guy who fucked my girlfriend… if I ever had a girlfriend, I’d want to bash his teeth in, too. But we need your head in the game. What that chick did to you, and the fact she’s still our damn skate coach… it sucks, but if you end up in the box against Columbus, we’ll lose and you know it.”

  He was right. Columbus was known for capitalizing on the penalty. Christ, they’d led the league last year in power play goals. And after their first two games of this season, it seemed they wanted to hold on tight to that title.

  “I’ll keep my head straight.”

  The thing was… Mia screwing Lynch wasn’t necessarily the reason I still harbored such hatred for both of them. It was how I’d put my whole heart into something I had no idea was so damn fragile. When I’d met Mia, I thought I was done playing around with phonies and liars. I thought Mia was the real deal. She became part of my entire world. She’d met my family. Spent time with my sister and my niece, Poppy. The same niece who had inspired me to help fund a bankrupt ice hockey camp in Toronto for special needs children on the autistic spectrum. I’d invited Mia to come with me to the camp in Toronto that spring after the season ended, and she’d said she couldn’t go because her fucking dad was sick. Turns out that her dad being sick really meant she’d made plans to stay at home and fuck my teammate while I was gone. Apparently, their affair had started right under my nose during playoffs. Lynch had played like shit for too long. The asshole had known all along he was going to get traded that July, so he figured he’d screw over our team in more ways than one before he left. Lynch was a piece of shit, but Mia was the one who’d betrayed me. She’d made it hard for me to trust another woman… another person, for such a long time.

  “I’ve got your back man, we all do… remember that when he starts talking shit.” Bryson gave my knee a sharp slap before he stood. “Get some rest, I know how much you need your beauty sleep, especially when you’re turning away pussy like it’s the plague.” His grin tipped up on one side as I flicked him off. “Just saying, Mark… I have a list of girls—”

  “Keep your fucking list, I’ve got my own thing going, alright?”

  Stevie’s bright eyes flickered through my head.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Bryson nodded his chin with an ear-to-ear grin and turned toward the aisle.

  Ignoring him, I placed my earbud back in and pressed play. My fingers lingered over the screen of my phone. Technically, we weren’t supposed to use our cell service while in flight, but my smile spread too deliberately, too sure across my face as I thought about her. Stevie’s flushed cheeks, the nervous way she bit her lip, the way she summoned her confidence and knocked me on my ass the first time I’d met her. But what I liked most about her was that she’d said no. She’d had a chance to cheat on her husband with me, and she took the high road instead. She’d chosen loyalty over lust even though her husband didn’t exactly deserve it. Trust was a hard fought thing with me. Very few people in my life had my faith. A few of the guys on the team, maybe, my family—my coach. I wanted to let myself trust her, know her.

  I quickly typed out a text and uploaded the short clip I had saved on my phone.

  ME: Enjoy.

  I was about to flip my phone back into airplane mode when her text came through.

  Stevie: I just choked on my coffee.

  Stevie: Your ass is so white.

  I barked out a laugh and took a quick glance around the plane. No one gave a shit about what I was doing.

  ME: I was eighteen, and way too proud. A first playoff win will do that to a guy. And it’s cold as fuck in Maine.

  Stevie: Definitely not the Sunshine State.

  My jaw ached as my smile pulled wider. I wondered if she was smiling, too. Probably laughing at my naked ass running across the parking lot.

  ME: Twenty-bucks says you’re
going to watch that video at least fifty times today.

  Stevie: Um… I already sent it to all my friends and maybe uploaded it to Facebook.

  This time my laugh garnered some attention. Bryson stared at me from across the plane. I raised my eyebrows and shrugged.

  Stevie: Just kidding. I should send it to Alec, though, I think he has a man crush on you. Talked about your stats all morning the other day.

  I rolled my eyes.

  ME: Oh, yeah. What did he say?

  Stevie: Something about plus minus, I don’t know, he lost me about three minutes into the conversation.

  I fucking loved that she knew nothing about hockey. When I lifted my gaze, I noticed the flight attendant was a few rows from mine handing Harris a drink.

  ME: Gotta go. Shouldn’t be texting while in flight. Talk to you when I can.

  Stevie: Good luck in…

  ME: Detroit.

  Stevie: Good luck in Detroit. Maybe I’ll watch the game.

  A warm feeling stirred inside my chest making it hard to breathe. It made me a total pussy, but I felt like a teenager again. Thoughts of Stevie at the arena, in my jersey, wearing my number, cheering even though she had no clue what she was cheering for, actually had all the blood in my body pumping toward my groin. I shifted in my seat as I typed.

  ME: Yeah?

  Stevie: I’ll send all the positive juju.

  We’re going to need it.

  ME: I’ll text you after the game if we win.

  Stevie: And if you don’t win?

  ME: I’m blaming you.

  I chuckled as I read her fast response.

  Stevie: No pressure.

  ME: Bye, Stevie.

  Stevie: Bye, Mark.

  I switched back into airplane mode and turned up the volume. One of my favorite hip-hop songs thumped its perfect beat, and I tried not to read into the moment. I’d let myself fall for Mia’s little nuances, all her well-laid traps. I had to pace myself. Stevie wasn’t Mia, but she had the power to hurt me, and I’d spent a very long time making sure that’d never happen to me again. Regardless, my smile couldn’t be contained as I let the visions of her run wild in my head. Those sexy glasses. Full hips. Tight blouse. Her ass pressed against the edge of a desk in some nondescript office. I licked my lips as I closed my eyes. Drifting, letting my worries about the outcome of this road trip dissipate into that decadent beat streaming from my headphones, fade into the blue burst that surrounded her pupils, and dissolve into the phantom feeling of her lips on mine.

 

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