Pucked Love

by Helena Hunting

  “Alex has been playing well,” I counter. But even as I say it, I know it’s a half-truth. Normally Alex is one of the top players in the league, but this year has been different. His stats have taken a serious hit, and he hasn’t been playing as well as usual, whereas Darren’s stats have been on the rise, particularly his assists. It’s like he’s handing goals to Alex instead of taking them for his own. Which says a lot about him as a person.

  “Well, in the general sense of the word, but not like he used to. Promise me this conversation stays between us.”

  “Of course. I promise.”

  “You can’t tell Darren.”

  Violet has been my best friend for almost a decade, so when she asks me to keep a secret, it’s usually a no brainer. But since Darren and I just dealt with the fallout of one of his secrets, I hesitate for a second before I respond.

  “I won’t tell Darren.”

  I hold out my pinkie and Violet grips it with hers. “Imagine if you unzipped a pair of pants and found a dick this small inside. How sad would you be?”

  “So sad.”

  “Darren seriously hasn’t said anything about Alex’s performance this season?”

  I consider what she’s asking, and weigh it with how freely I should share my private conversations with Darren. “He mentioned that recovery can be slow and Alex was playing his best.”

  Violet nods and pushes her food around on her plate. “He really is. But he’s also aware that his shoulder doesn’t feel the way it used to. He doesn’t want to wreck his body. He’s been thinking about the future a lot, about what he sees for himself after the NHL, so when his contract is up with Chicago, he’s considering retirement.”

  “What if Chicago wants to renew again?” I ask.

  “We’ll see, but it really depends. I don’t think he wants to go out with tanked stats, you know? He’s been at the top of his game for a long time, and it’s hard for him to put in so much extra work and not see the payoff.”

  “What will he do when he retires?” Darren’s plan once his hockey career ends isn’t something we’ve discussed.

  “He’s talked about sportscasting or coaching. I’m hoping for the former since he’ll probably be able to get on in Chicago, and then I won’t have to quit my job.”

  “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” This makes me intensely aware of how different my relationship is with Darren. We don’t plan past next weekend, let alone next year. That he asked me to be available when he returns from the away game in Toronto is a big deal.

  “The concussion last season scared him. He still has holes in his memory, Char. Sometimes he has difficultly remembering simple things, and he gets flustered. It’s not anything really worrying, but it’s there. He doesn’t want to take the risk anymore, especially now that he’s actively trying to knock me up. He doesn’t want to compromise his family for his career.”

  “I can understand that, but retirement? It seems so final.”

  I have to wonder what that’s like to have someone love you so much that they weigh choices in favor of who, not what they love.

  There’s a pit in my stomach, and every time we have one of these heavy conversations, it gets a little deeper. Everyone else is settling down, creating their own microcosm of family, and here I am getting excited over Darren wanting time with me next week.

  Violet folds her napkin until it sort of resembles a diaper. “I know, but Alex wants to be involved, and traveling would made that hard. Besides, Alex doesn’t want to leave Chicago, and I know Buck has plans to settle here once his career is over.”

  She smiles wistfully. “It’d be nice if our kids could all grow up together, wouldn’t it? I can kind of see what the future would be like if all of us stayed here. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we both had girls and they were best friends like we are?”

  I don’t even know if Darren is going to be in Chicago next year, let alone if we’re still going to be together, and already Violet is planning our kids’ futures.

  Violet wipes under her eyes and stares down at the wetness as if she can’t understand how it got there. “Oh my God, I’m not even pregnant yet, and I’m already crying about everything.”

  I hand her a clean napkin, and she blots under her eyes. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant? I mean, you’re eating like you’re trying to win some kind of competition. And the breast tenderness . . .”

  I mean it as a joke, but she pulls out her phone and flips through her calendar. “Oh shit.”

  My stomach does a little flip.

  “I should’ve gotten my period five days ago.” Violet’s eyes are huge. She grips the edge of the table. “What if I’m pregnant?”

  “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Well, yeah, I mean, I guess that’s the whole point. I figured it would take a while—like, more than a couple of months, you know? I thought I’d be able to have a glass of wine this weekend. If I am preggers, it’s going to be a year before I do that again.”

  “At least you’ll have Sunny to keep you company?” It’s meant as reassurance for her, but it causes a twinge of jealousy because it’s another way I’m not like the rest of the girls.

  “Yeah, there’s that.” Violet taps her lips. “You know what we should do?”

  “Stop at a CVS on the way home and get one of those pee-stick tests to find out if you’re knocked up?”

  “No—well, yes, but that’s not what I was going to say. If they go to game seven in this series, we should all go to Toronto. And if I’m not pregnant, I’m totally going to drink my face off.”

  “Either way, that would be fun.” It would be nice to get away for a couple of days.

  I feel bad that I’m almost hoping Violet isn’t pregnant. I’d like to get smashed with my best friend.

  “Right? We can start looking at flights. Maybe go in a day early and do some shopping? Stock up on all the mapley deliciousness.”

  “I’ll ask Darren if he’d be okay with that.”

  Violet’s eyes light up. “Or you could surprise him!”

  “Uh . . . I’m not so sure that’s a great idea, considering what happened the last time I did that.” My face heats at the memory.

  “This is different, though. You’re not planning a BDSM bash. You’d just be coming to see him play hockey and ride his joy stick.”

  I give her a look. “I should still ask him first. Just to make sure.”

  “Why? I mean, he’s going to want you there regardless, isn’t he? If Chicago wins, they move on to the next round of the playoffs, and you get to have fuck-yeah sex.” She pumps her fist almost like she’s jerking off a pretend penis. “If they lose, you get to have condolence sex. You’re the one who told me this back when Alex and I were doing our mating dance.”

  “I’ll talk to Darren about it. In the meantime, let’s find out if you’ll be able to drink something other than ginger ale for the next nine months, unless you want to wait until Alex gets home and do it then.”

  “I can’t wait until tomorrow. We’re doing this now.”

  We stop at the CVS on the way back to the office. Violet makes me come into the private wheelchair bathroom with her while she pees on a stick. I face the wall while she does the honors, letting out a crazy squeal.

  “Holy shit—are you pregnant?”

  “No, I just peed on my hand!” After she’s finished her business, she sets the stick on the edge of the sink and washes her hands three times, breathing like she’s practicing Lamaze. “Has it been two minutes yet? Jesus, I’m so nervous. You look for me.” She closes her eyes and thrusts the stick at me.

  I look at the little window and swallow down the lump in my throat. “It’s a plus sign.”

  Her eyes pop open. “What does that mean? Does that mean I’m preggers?”

  I nod and show her the test, smiling softly at my best friend even though a part of me is so very sad.

  She grabs the test and stares down at it, slack jawed. “Look at how blue that is. I wen
t off the pill two freaking months ago. Alex is going to be so proud of his magic sperm. Fuck. Shit. I’m pregnant, Char. What if I make a terrible mother? What if I’m like Skye and I embarrass the fuck out of my kid? What if it hates me, and we become estranged, and it writes a tell-all book about how horrible I am—”

  “You’re an amazing best friend, Vi. You’re going to make an even more amazing mother.”

  She throws her arms around me, hugging me hard. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” she mumbles into my shoulder.

  “You’ve got this. You’re going to be fabulous.”

  She steps back, holding my shoulders, maybe for balance or support. “I’m going to get so fat, and my boobs are going to be huge.”

  I laugh, but tears threaten to spill over. “Alex is going to love that.”

  She cups her hands over her mouth. “Oh my God, he’s going to be so excited.”

  “Are you going to call him?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, he’ll be home tomorrow. Maybe I should wait and tell him in person. I should wait. I want to see his face. And I don’t know if I want to tell anyone else yet. It’s still so early, so much can happen.” She takes my hands in hers. “Can we keep this between the two of us for now? I’ll tell Alex tomorrow, and we’ll figure out when we want to tell everyone else. But for now, it’ll just be us who know, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh my God, Char. I’m going to be a mom, and you’re going to be an aunt, because let’s face it, you’re as close to a sister as I’m ever going to get.”

  She hugs me hard again, and I let the tears fall, because as happy as I am for her, I’m a little sad for me and how this is going to change things.

  CHARLENE

  Chicago ends up losing the game in Toronto, which means they’re coming home to play game six in the series. If they lose again, Toronto moves on to the next round, and they’re out of the playoffs. If they win, they go back to Toronto to play game seven.

  The second Darren lands in Chicago, he calls to make sure I’m still coming over after work, which is good, because I need a distraction from Violet’s not so little secret.

  That anxious feeling settles in my stomach and moves lower. Too bad sneaking off to the bathroom at work to get myself off is frowned upon. “If you still want me to, yes.”

  “Definitely. Yes. I want you.” There’s a short pause before he continues. It sounds like he’s opening and closing drawers. “To come over after work.”

  “What are you doing? You sound distracted.”

  “I can’t find any of your clothes in my dresser. I mean, apart from lingerie. You must have a few articles in here somewhere,” he says.

  “Oh, uh, I always bring my things home with me after I spend the night.”

  “Oh.” He exhales heavily. “I didn’t realize that. You should leave things here for the nights you plan to stay.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “Good. Great. I’d like that. You’ll stay tonight, then?”

  “You have a game tomorrow night; you need your rest. You know I’m an active sleeper.” I can’t be responsible for interfering with his game when Chicago is so close to making the finals again.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to wear you out so you don’t pose a threat to my sleep.”

  I laugh at that. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I would like more rather than less of you, and you staying the night solves that problem.”

  “I’ll stop at home before I come to you after work and pick up some things, then.”

  “I can do that. I have errands to run so I’ll be out anyway. I could stop by your place and pick up a suit and whatever else you need, That way you can come straight to me—if that works for you, of course.”

  “Are you sure? It’s kind of out of your way, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all, and it means you’ll be at my place that much sooner. We’ll order dinner in.” He almost sounds giddy.

  “Sure. That sounds great.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you soon.”

  I leave work promptly at five, my body humming with nervous excitement as I head to the parking garage. I need Darren tonight as much as he seems to need me. Violet’s pregnancy news is hitting me harder than I expected. It’s another thing she and Sunny will have in common, and another way our relationships are just so different. I wonder how Violet’s doing. I’m sure I’ll get a message from her tonight at some point, or maybe she’ll be too busy celebrating.

  In my head I’m already filtering through the lingerie drawer at his place. Since they lost the last game, I’m thinking Darren will want sweetly sexy tonight. Something soft to distract him from a hard loss. I imagine I’ll end up in pale purple.

  Before I leave the garage, I decide it would be a good idea to let Darren know I’m on my way. Normally he’s quick to respond, but I don’t get anything from him between getting in the car and arriving at the security of his gated community. The guard lets me in, and I pull into Darren’s driveway. It’s empty, but he often keeps his cars in the garage, so it’s not out of the ordinary. I check my appearance in the visor and take a deep breath. The pinging ramps up in my lady bits as I cut the engine and grab my purse from the passenger seat.

  I ring the doorbell and wait, but after a minute, there’s still no answer. I check my messages again and find I have a new one from Darren. My stomach drops at the possibility that he might be canceling, but as I scan the text, I smile.

  He gave me the code to his house a long time ago, but since most of our dates are planned, I’ve never needed to use it. It feels odd to let myself in, but I punch the numbers and open the door. The first thing that catches my attention is the massive bouquet of flowers on the side table to the right. Flowers aren’t a typical decoration for Darren. In fact, knickknacks and decorations in general aren’t Darren’s thing.

  His house is pretty much on the extreme side of minimalist. There’s generally no evidence of clutter, or that he even lives here, apart from the occasional mug in the sink or a pair of boxers that missed the laundry basket in his walk-in closet.

  Much like the ones that arrived in my office several days ago, this bouquet seems to be keeping with the sunrise theme. It’s filled with pale and vibrant yellows, soft peaches, pinks, and purples. There’s a card beside the vase with my name written neatly on the front. I flip it open and smile at the note inside.

  The restless pinging down below ratchets up a few notches as I consider what exactly his something more comfortable might consist of. Taking the note with me, I head upstairs to his bedroom, which is where I’m assuming the something more comfortable will be.

  I bark out a quiet, shocked laugh when I step inside his bedroom and turn on the light. The very first thing I notice is a second bouquet of flowers, which contrasts perfectly with the one downstairs. Instead of a sunrise, this is more sunset with a cascade of yellow, darkening to vibrant peach and nearly black purple lilies and dahlias at the base.

  The flowers aren’t the only addition to the room, though. Laid across the end of the bed are several clothing options. I expected lace or satin, or possibly some combination of the two. But that’s not what I’m looking at.

  It appears Darren has done some shopping at my favorite legging store. There are five new pairs. Two of them are ridiculously adorable and firefly themed, and the others are covered in fun pastel prints reflective of the season. He’s also gone to the trouble of buying matching tanks and shirts, and a vast array of new cheekies in every color, pattern, and fabric available.

  In addition to those, there’s a black gift bag tied with a bow. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to open that now or wait, so I leave it and pick a pair of leggings, a shirt, and a pair of panties to change into. They’re freshly washed, as evidenced by the distinct smell of Darren’s fabric softener.

  I head back downstairs to wait for him and find yet another surprise in the living room. Set up on the table beside the reading chair h
e bought for me is a bucket with a bottle of white wine chilling and a glass waiting to be filled. Several books are stacked on the seat of the chair, their spines creased from my excessive reading and pages folded over. Sometimes, when I love a book I’ll earmark certain chapters or passages so I can find them easily and read them over.

  Darren must have scooped them from my nightstand and brought them here for me. I press my fingers to my lips, my chest light and heavy at the same time. His attentiveness is endearing, and while part of me loves it, the other part worries about what it means. So many things are changing, and I don’t know quite how to handle it. The neat lines we’d drawn seem to be erasing themselves, and I don’t know how to do this without them. It makes me feel unsteady.

  With shaking hands, I pull the cork free and pour myself a glass of wine. I take a small sip and moan. This is way better than that boxed stuff my mom brought with her. I actually considered tossing the rest of it, but figured it was too much of a waste, so I mixed it with ginger ale and juice. Then it wasn’t so bad.

  I grab my phone and my ear buds, because I might as well enjoy the lengths Darren has gone to for me.

  Moving the books to the table, I relax into the chair, cover myself with the throw, and sigh contentedly. On the next inhale, I note the faint scent of Darren’s cologne clinging to the fabric. I turn my head and press my nose against the backrest. I’m not sure if I’m imagining things, but I swear it smells like his shampoo, which means he’s been using the chair when I’m not here.

  I slip in my ear buds, pick a playlist, and settle in with a book, flipping to one of my many favorite chapters. I like to read romance, maybe because my childhood was such a mess and the kind of relationships I witnessed weren’t normal. I like the smutty ones as much as the sweet ones, but my favorite stories have the most broken characters. Even though it’s fiction, it gives me hope that even the most messed up people can find someone to love them.

  I’m on my second glass of wine, rereading my second favorite chapter when a shadow passes over my book. I startle as I look up to find Darren standing in front of me, and I nearly douse myself in wine.