Here We Go

by Shannon Stacey

  Kristen didn’t have long before she’d have to go back into Stan’s office for their regular morning meeting, so she excused herself and closed her door against the office chatter—a lot of which was probably about her.

  She sat at her desk and went through her usual post-Stan ritual, which included some deep breathing, muttered obscenities, and visualizing herself in the future, working for a better, more powerful, less ignorant and much less conservative boss.

  At least he seemed mollified by the fact Will was her beau. She had a nasty feeling that meeting would have gone in a totally unpleasant direction if he knew the true story—her one-night stand with the hot guy she picked up at a bar had ended with her brother punching him in the face.

  She made it through the rest of the day without any further mention of the incident other than giving Annie the more fun details of the story over salads—skirting over the details about how it all got started, and focusing instead on how great a guy Will was—and Stan seemed to be his usual self, returning to normal levels of being insufferable.

  This is good, she told herself as she made her way home. Will’s bruise would fade. She was cautiously optimistic her promotion was still on track. And she was having the best sex of her life in the meantime. Considering the potential for disaster that had existed, things were going pretty damn well.

  Her apartment felt a little empty without Will in it, though, and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about him as she sorted her mail—dumping most of it in the recycling tub—and changed into leggings and a sweatshirt. She was feeling antsy, so she picked up her phone and sent Will a text message.

  I feel like going for a drive. Wanna go with?

  If you can wait an hour. Finishing up and need to shower. Meet at practice facility?

  She’d rather not be anywhere near the place, but she also didn’t want to wait any longer than she had to before she got to see him. Give me the address and I’ll be there in an hour.

  He sent it, and she saved it to her navigation so she could pull it up when it was time. Then, with a little time to kill, she pulled up the schedule Erik sent her every week and decided now might be a good time to catch him.

  He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Kris. How are things?”

  “Strange and somewhat hard to believe. How are things with you?”

  “About the same.” She could tell by the sound quality and ambient noise that he was driving, and she put him on speakerphone so she could clean her bathroom while she talked to him. “Things are weird, for sure. I’m taking a lot of shit about this from the team, as you can imagine.”

  “Maybe choose more discreet friends to vent to in the future.”

  “No shit, and again, I’m sorry about that. But hopefully it’ll all blow over soon, especially for you. In the locker room, somebody’s always giving somebody shit for something, and it’s just my turn until something more interesting happens.” He chuckled. “It’s a pretty high bar, though.”

  “We Burkes don’t do anything halfway.”

  “No, we don’t. How’s Cross handling it?”

  “He’s good. Everybody blew up his phone yesterday, of course, but he stuck with the story, refused to say anything more, and I think people are getting bored already.”

  “Have you seen him since…you know?”

  “Yeah, we’ve spent some time together.” She didn’t really want to give any more details than that, and she guessed he didn’t want to hear them because he didn’t ask.

  “You’re okay, though? At work and stuff? Because that’s all that really matters.”

  “I’m good. And Stan did hear about it all, of course, but it didn’t bother him as much when I told him Will and I are dating. He said he was happy I found—and get this—a beau.”

  Erik’s laughter filled her bathroom. “Are you serious? Did he actually use that word?”

  “He did. I was surprised he didn’t tell me I should start wearing corsets and hoop skirts to the office from now on.”

  “He’s such a jerk,” he said, sounding less amused now. “I hate that you work for somebody like that.”

  “I know, but like I’ve told you a hundred times, he’s a means to an end. I can put up with him for now.”

  They chatted a few more minutes, and then Kristen told him she had to let him go. She didn’t tell him why, but she could tell by his voice that he’d guessed why. It was a good thing she and Will were only fake dating because bringing him to family dinners would make Thanksgiving awkward for a good long time.

  She pulled into the lot for the Skimmers’ practice facility about five minutes later than she’d intended to, and she spotted Will right away. He was freshly showered and leaning against a light post with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder.

  When he saw her, he lifted his hand in a wave and then walked to the curb. She lowered the passenger side window, and he leaned down to speak to her.

  “Where’s your car?” she asked, since the parking lot was pretty empty and she didn’t see his rental.

  “At the hotel I’m staying in. It’s close enough to walk, and it wasn’t too cold today.”

  She hit the button to pop the trunk. “Throw your bag in and let’s go, then.”

  He hesitated. “Do you want me to drive?”

  She wasn’t even surprised by the question. “Do I want you to drive my car around my city? Not really.”

  “Hey, you can save on gas if we go grab my rental and take that.”

  She laughed at him before shaking her head. “Nope. If you can’t handle the passenger seat with a woman behind the wheel, you can walk back to your hotel. Alone.”

  “Of course I can handle it,” he said, rallying when she pointed out he was being ridiculous.

  After closing his hockey bag in the trunk, he opened the passenger door. He had to put the seat all the way back before he could get in, and she bit back her amusement at his expression when he closed the door and put his seatbelt on.

  He was not comfortable in the shotgun seat, and she didn’t care if it was because she was a woman or he just liked being in control. She was going to have a little fun with him.

  7

  Of all the ways he could die, Will had never thought it would be in the passenger seat of a car being driven by a woman who drove like Boston was nothing but a video game and she was navigating a boss level while she laughed at him.

  “Stop covering your eyes,” she said as she cut the car over a lane, into a space that looked half the length of the actual vehicle. “You’re a hockey player, for chrissake. You’re supposed to be tougher than this.”

  “You’re a menace.” But he put his hands in his lap, clenching his phone to keep from grabbing the dash or the door handle. He hoped he didn’t snap the phone in half.

  “We’ll be there soon.”

  “Be where? I thought we were just going for a drive. Like a nice relaxing drive.” He sucked in a breath as she took an exit ramp without slowing down. “Okay, I’m sorry I implied I should do the driving just because I’m a man. We can’t help it. It’s just how we’re wired.”

  “You can help it. You just don’t want to.” But she slowed down and actually used her signal when she made the next turn.

  He was quiet for a little while, since there was no good way out of the conversational hole he’d dug for himself. And he was watching as the neighborhoods around them changed as she made her way through congested streets without her nav system. She obviously knew where she was going, even if she didn’t tell him their destination.

  “How was work today?” he asked after a while. After he said it, he realized he was risking her being pissed off behind the wheel again if her day had gone badly and he brought it up, but he’d been thinking about her all day. And, really, her driving couldn’t get much more aggressive. “Your boss, I mean. Did he find out?”

  “He did, but I think your plan worked,” she said. “I was able to make it sound suitably respectable and kind of threw Erik under
the bus since Stan already knew he plays hockey, so his expectation of him is already low.”

  “Good. I’m glad I’m not costing you your job, at least.”

  “And how was your day? The shoulder okay?”

  “Seems good. I’m pretty limited in practicing with them, and I spend more time in the occupational therapy rooms than on the ice, but I’m on schedule to play after the break.”

  “Good. I’m glad your shoulder’s healing.”

  She didn’t ask him any more questions about it, and he didn’t really expect her to. It seemed odd to him that she hated hockey as much as she did, considering her brother played, but there was probably a reason for it. If she wanted to share, she would. But it was slightly limiting, having the one thing that filled his life being something she didn’t want to talk about.

  “This looks like a good place to park,” she said, and he had to admit she parallel parked flawlessly. His mother and sister would both rather walk a mile carrying whatever they bought than parallel park.

  “Where are we, exactly?”

  She killed the engine and gave him a smile. “You’ll see. It’s just a short walk from here.”

  He was glad it was a fairly decent day for January in Boston and, because he’d walked to practice, he had a coat and warm boots. Kristen grabbed her parka from the backseat, and after getting out of the car, she pulled it on and zipped it up.

  Then she took his hand, and they started walking.

  Usually Will liked to be in control of his life. Knowing what he was doing, where he was going—as well as why—were things he was accustomed to, and he didn’t like being in the dark. But walking down the sidewalk with his fingers laced through Kristen’s, he realized he didn’t mind so much. He was content to follow wherever she was leading. Especially since it meant she wasn’t driving anymore.

  “Okay, this is it.” She pointed at a small, unassuming house that was obviously very old but also well cared for.

  “Oh, no shit,” he said as the words on the sign registered. “Abigail Adams was born here?”

  “I think the house has been moved a couple of times, but she was born in it and lived in it until she got married. And it’s not open this time of year, and it’s already getting dark, which sucks, but I figured you could take a picture for your mom. She might think it’s kind of cool.”

  “She’ll think it’s very cool.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to take some pictures, but he paused to smile at her so she’d know he meant it. “Because it is. This is very cool.”

  “Since you’ve been reading her biography, you probably know a lot more about her than I do, but I’ve been by here a few times over the years, so I’d seen the birthplace signs.”

  He took a few pictures, getting several angles of the house, before he gestured for her to join him. “Let’s do the selfie thing.”

  “Do you hear yourself right now?” she teased, shaking her head.

  “Fans are always asking me for selfies, and now I’m asking. I’m a Kristen fan, so get in here.”

  “A Kristen fan? Really?” She sighed dramatically, but stepped in front of him and was patient while he framed it so their faces and the Abigail Adams birthplace sign on the house were in the shot. Just before he hit the button, he lowered his cheek to the top of her head, and she was smiling when the shutter sound clicked.

  “That’s a good one,” she said, and he agreed. Her blue eyes were sparkling in the photo, and even in a photograph, the warmth of her smile heated his blood.

  It was a photo he’d be keeping in the Favorites album on his phone for a very long time.

  “Thank you for this,” he said, hoping she’d hear the depth of sincerity in his voice. “It means a lot to me that you not only remembered what I was reading and that my mom read it, too, but cared enough to bring me out here to get a picture for her.”

  “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

  “Actually, it is. A lot of people don’t bother to pay attention to anything about me other than the hockey. That’s all they see.”

  She grinned and bumped him with her elbow. “I hate hockey, so I guess it’s easier for me to see the other things you like.”

  “Good point.”

  “The temperature’s dropping,” she said, shoving her hands deep into her parka’s pockets. “We should head back to the car.”

  Because she had her hands in her pockets, he didn’t get to hold her hand on the walk back, but it was okay. She asked him a few questions about Abigail Adams, and they talked about the former First Lady until they were back in her car with the heat on full blast.

  “Have you eaten yet?” she asked, glancing over at him. Then she scowled and shook her head once. “Never mind. Forget I asked that.”

  “Did you forget you already have plans or something?” He hadn’t eaten yet, which she could probably figure out since she’d picked him up at the rink.

  “No, I just…it’s dumb, but I realized I’ve already monopolized your time. Just because we’re having some fun and told the world we’re dating doesn’t mean we have to actually spend time together. It’s not like the paparazzi is hiding in bushes, waiting to take pictures of us together.”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past Joel,” he muttered. “He thought he had a much juicier story, and he’s probably really bummed right now. But on a serious note, I haven’t eaten and there’s nobody in this city I’d rather spend time with than you.”

  Even in the dark interior of her car, he could see the flush across her cheeks in the flashes of streetlights. “What are you in the mood for?”

  He chuckled, because he could think of a few things.

  “For dinner, smart-ass,” she said. “We’ll talk about dessert later.”

  “Tell me about moving to Boston,” Will said.

  Kristen looked up from the haddock she was squeezing lemon juice over and cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a little weird, I guess, that I know a little bit about you already because of your brother. I know your family’s from Michigan, for example. But I don’t want to know the stuff that’s in his bio. I want to know about you, if that makes sense.”

  “I guess it does, because I felt the same way when I decided not to do a Google search for your name,” she said, smiling at him. “Though I have read your hockey bio, of course.”

  “There’s honestly not much more to know than what’s in my hockey bio, I guess. Parents and a younger sister and her family in Ontario. Remind me to show you the twenty-thousand or so pictures and videos of my nephew I have on my phone.” His face lit up when he talked about his family, and she liked that about him. “His name’s Billy because he’s named after me, and he’s four. Already a bruiser on skates, of course.”

  She laughed. “Of course he is.”

  “So, did you move here when your brother did?”

  She nodded. “Well, not right away. I stayed with friends to finish high school when Erik signed with the Marauders.”

  “Because your dad went with him even though you were still in school.”

  “Stop making that face or people will think you’ve been sucking on this lemon. But yes, Lamont came to Boston with Erik. I hated being so far away from him—my brother, not my dad—so I applied to Boston colleges, and here I am.”

  “I’m surprised you and your brother are so close.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “We just are. Just like nobody knows the badass Cross Lecroix likes to read biographies and squeals like a guinea pig when in the passenger seat of a car, there’s a side of Erik Burke nobody else really gets to see, either.”

  “Hey, now. I did not squeal like a guinea pig and, even if I did, it was merited. You drive like you were born in this city.”

  “Thank you,” she said, even though he clearly hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

  “If he got traded, would you have moved?”

  That was a tough question. “I don’t know. I know I didn’t like be
ing half a country away from him, so I would have considered it. But I also fell in love with Boston pretty quickly, so it would have been hard, so let’s just be thankful for the Marauders.”

  “No,” he said, and they both laughed.

  “You were with a couple of teams before the Harriers, but you’ve been there a long time. Has your family considered moving to Baltimore?”

  He shook his head. “No, because even to me, Baltimore isn’t home. I mean, it’s a great city, and I’ve enjoyed living there, but home is home. Throw in the fact it’s an entirely different country, and it was never really considered. They come down for big games, though, and stay in a hotel or get an Airbnb near my condo.”

  “Do you own a house in Canada?”

  “No. I live in Baltimore full-time. But I go home a lot, when I can, and I just stay in my old room.”

  “Tell me it has a twin bed and all your high school trophies on a big bookshelf.”

  He blushed, which was cute as hell. “The twin bed went away in the remodel, and the shelf of trophies got banished to my dad’s den.”

  He told her about his family while they ate, and she loved how relaxed he looked when he talked about them. She noticed he kept the conversation away from growing up a hockey player, and talked instead about fishing with his dad and his mother trying to teach him to bake, and how his sister had been better at car maintenance lessons than he was. It was hard, a little bit, to hear and see the love between father and son when he talked about his dad. Obviously she didn’t have that relationship with Lamont, but Erik didn’t, either. Their father’s obsession with making Erik the best didn’t leave time for fishing trips or changing the oil in the car. Hell, she didn’t even know if her father knew how to fish. She’d never asked him.

  “Do you guys want dessert?” the server asked when she appeared to clear their dinner plates, and Kristen smiled as Will’s leg slid against hers and he gave her a look that promised a far sweeter dessert than anything they had on the menu.

  “I think we’ll pass,” she replied and was rewarded with a sizzling grin from Will.