Hate to Love You

by Jennifer Sucevic

  With a critical eye, I take in the setting.

  I want everything to be perfect.

  Romantic, but not overly cheesy.

  Unfortunately, I don’t have time to fuss with the table setting because the timer for the noodles boiling away on the stove dings.

  Believe it or not, I’ve never made spaghetti before. I had to read the directions. Then, just to make sure I didn’t fuck it up, I YouTubed it. Seemed simple enough. I’d almost go so far as to say idiotproof. Except, I don’t want to jinx anything.

  I use a fork to fish out a noodle and test its readiness.

  “Shit,” I mutter, burning my fingers as I throw the pasta into my mouth and chew it quickly.

  I check the sauce.

  It tastes good.

  Although it’s from a jar. So…kind of hard to screw that up, which makes it the perfect dinner for a novice like myself. I need a culinary dish with training wheels. Something that shows I put in effort but nothing that would end up looking like a charcoal briquette.

  Or make the fire department break down the door.

  I throw the garlic bread in the oven for five minutes and pour a bag a chopped salad into a bowl.

  For the fiftieth time, I scan the table taking stock of everything. It looks good, if I do say so myself. I don’t want to be premature and pat myself on the back, but I am seriously crushing this whole dinner thing.

  Natalie is going to be super-impressed with my mad culinary skills.

  You know what?

  I’m super-impressed with myself.

  Just as I take the bread from the oven, I hear a key slide into the lock, and the door to the apartment opens. My heart, believe it or not, leaps into my throat and then beats in overdrive. I can’t believe I’m this nervous. I need this night to go off without a hitch. The end game here is for Natalie to understand just how important she is to me.

  If everything goes according to plan, I might even drop the L-bomb.

  I almost shake my head at that.

  Right now, I’m blowing my own mind.

  Natalie comes around the corner, her feet grinding to a halt when she sees me standing in the kitchen.

  “What’s going on?” she whispers, looking stunned.

  I state the obvious while pointing toward the pots and pans cluttering up the counter. “I made dinner for you.” Then I correct, “For us.”

  Her eyes travel slowly around the kitchen before landing on the table. She sucks in a sharp breath and brings her fingers to her mouth.

  “The candle isn’t too much, is it?” I ask nervously, wishing I had opted for either the flowers or the candle, not both. Maybe it’s overkill.

  She shakes her head. “No, it’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  My entire body relaxes, and I realize how tense I’d become while waiting for her reaction. “Good. I want everything to be perfect for you.”

  Her eyes slide back to mine. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

  Since she hasn’t moved, I close the distance between us and slide the messenger bag off her shoulder, dropping it to the floor. Then I wrap her up in my arms. Hers slip around me and hug me so tightly that it feels like she’s going to squeeze the air from my lungs. But I love it. Love that she’s holding on for dear life.

  I drop a small kiss at the crown of her head. “I wanted to do something special for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  I pull back so I can search her eyes. She blinks back the wetness as she stares up at me. There’s a look swimming around in her eyes. Happiness. But something else that I can’t put my finger on lurks there as well. It’s been bothering me all week.

  Pushing it aside, I say, “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starving. I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch because it was so busy,” Natalie remarks.

  I raise both brows and tease, “What? No time for French fries? How’s that possible?”

  She smiles, and whatever had been haunting her expression disappears. “It was a marathon session of studying at the library.”

  I nod, thinking about the first time we studied together on the third floor. Okay, maybe I’m not thinking so much about the studying as what happened during the break.

  I clear my head of that image. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll bring out our plates.”

  “Okay.”

  She takes a seat and picks up her glass of wine, taking a small sip. I set a plate of pasta and garlic bread in front of her. There’s a bowl for salad on the side.

  Even though I know Natalie is surprised and happy about the dinner I’ve prepared, I still sense something off with her behavior.

  Is she worried that I’m not serious about her?

  She doesn’t need to be. I’ve never made a commitment like this, and she knows it. If I wasn’t interested in being with her, in furthering our relationship, I would break things off.

  I want Natalie.

  I get that being with me is a lot to handle. Natalie doesn’t care for the attention she receives for being my girlfriend. She likes moving around campus anonymously. She hates the puck bunnies that are always hanging around, but I’ve done absolutely nothing to encourage their behavior. I keep girls at a firm distance because I don’t want her to feel like she has something to worry about. I’m not Reed fucking Collins. I would never cheat on her or hurt her the way he did.

  If we’re happy together, then that’s all that should matter. The rest is nothing more than white noise. We’ll make it work.

  Once we’ve both eaten, Natalie rises from her seat to clear the dishes from the table.

  “Sit down, I’ll do that later. I’m taking care of everything tonight, and that includes KP.” When she starts to argue, I point to her half-filled glass of wine. “Enjoy your beverage. I’ll be right back.”

  I grab both of our plates and the salad and dump everything in the sink. I bought a fancy chocolate cake at the store. There was no way in hell I was even attempting to bake a dessert. I’m well aware of my limitations.

  Pasta was enough for one night. And the fact that it turned out decent—I’ll take that as a win.

  I sit down and top off her wine.

  “This was really nice,” she says.

  I smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “No one has ever cooked dinner for me, so thank you,” she adds quietly.

  I snag her fingers with mine. This is it. Do or die time. “I know we haven’t been together long, but I want you to know that I really care about you.” I squeeze her hand to emphasize my words. “I want this to work out between us. I’m thinking long-term.” My gut twists with nerves. I have the same feeling I get right before I jump onto the ice for the first time during a championship game. Like I’m so excited that I might throw up. “Next year I’ll be in Milwaukee, and I want you there with me.”

  Once the words are out, I exhale a breath. Relief pumps through me. I expect her to say something, but she doesn’t. She just stares at me from across the table.

  Not knowing what to do, I blurt, “I love you, Natalie.”

  With my heart in my throat, I wait for her to say those three little words back. Every second that slowly ticks by feels like agony.

  Chapter Forty

  Natalie

  I love you.

  Those words ricochet through my brain like a bullet. All the pasta I’ve just eaten feels like it’s going to make an unexpected reappearance. I flatten a hand over my belly in an attempt to stop that from happening.

  How am I supposed to respond?

  I know what I want to say.

  I want to jump up and tell him that I love him too, but I can’t do that. John McKinnon’s words have been rattling around in my head for the last couple of days, and I hate to say it, but I think he might be right.

  Brody would be better off focusing on hockey and finishing out his senior year before moving on to Milwaukee. He doesn’t need the distraction our relationship has become.

  Even though my heart
feels like it’s being torn to shreds, I say carefully, “Brody, I care about you a lot.”

  His body grows impossibly still, and he blinks as if he didn’t hear me correctly before repeating hoarsely, “You care about me?”

  “Yes.” I nod. All of a sudden, my chest feels heavy, and I can’t breathe. It’s painful to draw in air. “A lot.” I slide my fingers from beneath his and tuck them into my lap. I keep my gaze focused on his. “But this relationship is moving really fast.” I gulp and force out the rest. If I don’t do it now, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to push the words out at all. “I’m not ready for this.”

  “You’re not ready for…this?” He repeats, his eyes widening. “For us? For a relationship?” His voice elevates with each question hurtled in my direction.

  I want to bury my face in my hands and cry. But I can’t do that. I have to finish this off. Unbeknownst to Brody, he’s given me the perfect excuse to pull the plug.

  “I didn’t realize you were thinking long term.” I shake my head. “I have no idea what’s going to happen next year. I don’t know where I’ll be. I could be here or anywhere else in the country. I have to go where I can find a job. And with you going to Milwaukee…” I allow my words to trail off as if the outcome is obvious.

  “Even if I’m in Milwaukee and you’re somewhere else, we can still make this work.”

  I shrug. “Long-distance relationships are difficult. Most of them don’t survive the first six months. Why would we bother setting ourselves up for failure?”

  He takes his hands from the table and crosses his arms over his chest. Hurt flashes across his face. “I thought we were on the same page,” he mumbles.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just not ready to make that kind of commitment. There’s so much going on right now. So many unknowns.”

  He sucks in a breath and blows it out slowly before nodding. “Okay. We can slow things down a bit. I didn’t realize I was moving so fast.”

  My eyes drop to the table. I have to make a clean break. And I can’t watch the anguish fill his eyes when I say the words. I just can’t. The pain already flooding through me is excruciating. Any moment, I’m going to crumple to the floor and blurt out the truth.

  “I think it might be best to take a break. There’s no point in us getting involved only for you to leave at the end of the year and head to Milwaukee.” I force my gaze to his. “We both know that once you’re in the NHL, there’ll be many women throwing themselves at you. Are you really going to be able to resist that temptation?” I wait a beat. “Do you even want to?”

  Brody’s jaw slackens. He looks like I’ve just slapped him.

  “Are you being serious right now?” he whispers. “That’s what you think of me?”

  I tilt my head. “Come on, you’ve spent your entire life whoring around. You couldn’t even tell me how many women you’ve slept with.”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re throwing that in my face. I was trying to be honest with you.” His whiskey-colored eyes fill with pain.

  “And I’m just trying to do the same.”

  He reaches across the table. Desperation is written in every line of his face. “What’s going on with you, Natalie? Where’s this all coming from?”

  The tears are so close to the surface that they burn the backs of my eyelids. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep the emotion in check.

  I shrug. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately, and I don’t think a relationship is going to work between us in the long run. I don’t want to waste either of our time.”

  Looking upset, he draws back again. “Well, I appreciate your honesty.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am. You’re a wonderful guy. I hope you know that.”

  He snorts as he gets to his feet. “Sure. I’m a great guy. Just not for you, right?”

  “That’s not what I said,” I whisper desperately.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  Panic floods through me, and I shoot out of my seat. Even though I know what I’m doing is best for Brody, it’s not easy. The last thing I want is to hurt him, but that seems to be the only way.

  “Brody, wait—”

  “I’m going to take off.” He picks up his jacket and shrugs into it. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

  I nod miserably.

  There’s nothing more to say.

  He slams through the door and the tears I’d been holding back leak from my eyes.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper into the silence, knowing he’ll never realize how I truly feel about him.

  In order to break his heart, I had to break my own.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Brody

  “Have another beer, bro,” Sawyer says. “It’ll help dull the pain.”

  He tosses me a can of Miller Light. I catch it with one hand from the couch I’m sprawled on, pop the top, and take a long swig. I can’t imagine anything dulling the pain rampaging through me, but I don’t say that because I already feel like the world’s biggest pussy.

  Tonight turned out to be an epic fail. I told Natalie that I loved her and she, in return, told me she needed to slow-track our relationship to the point of nonexistent.

  It’s almost laughable. Except I might just cry.

  I really thought Natalie and I had something special. How did I misread the whole situation? It doesn’t make any sense. I keep going over it in my head, but nothing adds up.

  What I do know is that I’m going to wring Luke’s neck when I see him. This is all his fault.

  Make her dinner, he said.

  Then you can talk, he said.

  Where the fuck did that get me, other than a boot up the ass?

  I’m so lost in my own misery that it takes a moment to realize that bright, fuchsia-colored fingernails are trailing lazily across my arm.

  “Hey, Brody,” a voice coos in my ear. “I haven’t seen you around for a while.”

  I glance over at the blonde with the tight shirt hugging all her curves. I narrow my eyes, trying to remember her name. She’s one of those girls that’s always hanging around at the house.

  I give her a brittle smile, trying not to recall the reason for that. “Been busy.”

  She clicks her tongue as her eyes coast appreciatively over me. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

  “Don’t have one of those.” Maybe that’s where I went wrong. I’ve always lived my life by a strict set of rules. This was the first time I allowed myself to break them. And now look at me. I’m a fucking mess. All because a girl dumped my ass.

  Never again, I vow silently. Nothing is worth this kind of pain.

  Without invitation, Blondie settles herself on my lap and runs the palms of her hands over my chest. “That’s too bad,” she purrs, although there’s nothing in her voice to suggest that she thinks it’s bad at all. “Maybe I can help take your mind off her.”

  I lift the beer to my lips and take another swig. I’m not interested in what this girl is offering.

  Just as I open my mouth to tell her that, I hear, “What the hell are you doing, McKinnon?”

  I slant my eyes in the direction of that screeched out question.

  Zara.

  Luke is standing behind her. On closer inspection, it actually looks like he’s holding her back. His brows are drawn sharply together as he glares.

  He has the fucking audacity to glare at me?

  Ha!

  Just wait until I give him a piece of my mind. He’ll be sorry he ever gave me that sage bit of advice.

  Motherfucker.

  The girl on my lap smiles coyly and gives Zara a little wave with her fingers. Luke tightens his hold on his girlfriend as she growls and steps forward, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. I have a feeling that if Zara gets her hands on the female perched on my lap, all hell will break loose.

  “If you don’t get your skanky ass away from him, I’m going rip every damn hair extension from your head!” Zara yells.

  Looping her
arms around my neck and shoving her tits in my face, Blondie leans toward Zara and sneers, “Try it, bitch.”

  Cursing a blue streak that would make a sailor blush, Zara struggles to free herself from Luke’s hold. She’s not going anywhere, but that doesn’t deter her from trying. “I swear to God, Amanda, when I get my hands on you, you’re going to wish you never glanced in his direction!”

  Amanda.

  Right.

  Blondie-With-the-Toddler-Voice.

  Although, there’s no baby voice in sight this evening. More like hissing and spitting.

  “You should probably go,” I tell her. The truth of the matter is that I had no plans on taking her up on the offer written in her big green eyes. There’s only one girl I’m interested in, and she kicked my ass to the curb about an hour ago.

  Amanda gives me a full-on pouty lip.

  But it does absolutely nothing for me.

  Nada.

  “Are you sure?” Ignoring Zara, who is still swearing and struggling about ten feet from where we sit, Amanda strokes her fingers over me.

  “Yup, I’m sure.”

  Screwing this girl isn’t going to dull the razor-sharp pain inflicted by Natalie. If anything, I’ll just feel worse in the morning.

  “Fine,” Amanda huffs.

  Taking her sweet time, she wiggles her ass against my junk before standing and stretching like she has all the time in the world. She sticks her tits out and shoots a sexy smile at Luke. “When you get tired of psycho Tinker Bell, you know where to find me.”

  Oh no she didn’t…

  My lips tremble with a smile. Zara’s eyes flash with rage as she once again tries to lunge at Amanda. “I swear to God, bitch, you come near him, and I’ll mess you up!”

  Gritting his teeth, Luke locks Zara more firmly against his body and murmurs something in her ear. The fire in her eyes slowly dies as he kisses the side of her face.

  Once Amanda is gone, Luke says with a bit of humor lacing his voice, “Can I trust you to make good choices or should I just keep you tucked in my arms for the time being?”