Once he swallows, he says, “I told you.”
“Looks like you are good luck for him.”
If possible, he grins wider.
The rest of the game goes more smoothly for us. The zing of the puck hitting the goal posts doesn’t bother Jackson. In fact, he thinks that’s the coolest sound ever. He’s not too fond of hearing the puck or a stick or bodies hit the boards or the glass, and he still isn’t a fan of the goal horn, but I think he loves glass seats. I keep having to pull him away. He wants to have his face against the glass or an inch or so away. I feel like that’s a safety hazard.
“I wish I could play,” Jackson says once the game ends with a Rebels win.
“Maybe you can one day.”
We’re sitting in our seats, waiting for EJ. He’s taking Jackson home and he wanted us to wait here for him instead of outside. The usher asked us to leave twice before finally leaving us alone. I don’t think she believed me when I told her EJ’s meeting us. But she didn’t come back after that second time, so I don’t care.
Jackson has a wistful look on his face as he gazes out at the ice. They need to get this kid in skates.
“Hey, J-man!”
Jackson whirls to see EJ coming from the left. “Mr. EJ! I gave you good luck! And look!” He holds up the puck. “Mr. Brayden gave me a puck.”
Speaking of whom, Brayden appears a few feet behind him.
EJ picks Jackson up. “That’s awesome. Did you have fun?”
“Yes. And look!” He tugs on his jersey. “Ms. Deanna bought it for me.”
“She did? Did you thank her?”
Jackson nods and yawns.
“Let’s get you home. I’m sure your momma is waiting to hear all about your night.” Looking at me, he says, “Thanks, Deanna.”
“No problem; thanks for the sweet seats. And tell Raelynn I want to do lunch this week.”
He nods and walks back the way he came. Brayden eyes me for a moment, his hands in his pockets, and then he holds out a hand, which I take.
“You didn’t say you were coming.”
“Surprise,” I say with a smile.
“Are you tired too?” he teases.
“Nope.”
“Some of the guys are going somewhere for food and drinks. Do you want to go?”
“Sure. This is kinda creepy,” I say, referring to the underbelly of the arena.
Brayden rolls his eyes and with his free hand pulls on the Rebels logo in the jersey. “Did you have to think about whose jersey you should buy?”
“Jackson tried to convince me to buy EJ’s, and he almost succeeded,” I lie. “I also thought about buying one of the Kessy jerseys.”
Brayden frowns at that. “You’re a terrible girlfriend, you know?”
My grin is cheeky and cheesy.
“What?”
“That’s the first time you’ve called me your girlfriend, aside from when you said it to Jackson, which I’m totally not counting.”
Brayden shakes his head like I’m crazy. We’re outside now and he opens the door to my car as soon as I unlock it. “Follow me there, okay?”
“You got it.” I give him a quick kiss.
A little while later, we’re at a restaurant and pub. Brayden heads to the table while I walk to the restroom. When I return, I spot Zane at the table, too. Nerves wash over me. After it finally hit me that he likes me, I’m not too thrilled to join the table, even with Brayden there. I decide to stall by stopping by the bar to grab a drink first.
That turns out to be a bad idea.
“Hey, Deanna.”
I turn to Zane. “Hey.” Then, I find the bartender and stare him down. Hurry up with my drink! The last thing I want is for Brayden to find me talking to Zane.
“I texted you; I was trying to check in,” he says, leaning forward to cut off my view of the bartender.
“I was with Brayden, so I didn’t see it. Things are obviously fine. You don’t need to worry about me or my relationship with Brayden.”
The corners of his mouth begin to dip into a frown. “But I do.”
“But you do not need to,” I repeat. He opens his mouth, but I grab his wrist. “Brayden is my boyfriend.” Zane winces. “We’re together, and, and I love him, Zane.”
His entire body is tense, but he nods and says, “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
I’m not so sure I believe him. At least, he’s not happy for himself. I let go of his wrist. The bartender finally brings my drink. I turn to leave Zane at the bar and see Brayden standing a foot away. I keep walking, not wanting to alert Zane to his presence. I grab his hand and pull him toward the table. Brayden’s squeezes mine hard.
Did he hear what I said? Did I actually say what I think I said? Or maybe he’s only pissed because he found me talking to Zane again? Brayden tugs on my hand to stop me from sitting down. He sits and pulls me into his lap. My body melts against his when he kisses my neck. That’s a good sign.
“I ordered us food,” he murmurs as I take a sip of my drink. “Is it time to say I told you so?”
“Not the place,” I reply. Zane returns to the table. Should I get my own seat? Wouldn’t that be the nice thing to do? When my hips shift, Brayden grabs them to keep me in place.
“What happened to my jersey?” His hands slide over my arms.
“This table is getting enough attention as it is.” I took it off and left it in my car, not wanting to sit with a group of hockey players wearing a jersey and have people think I’m some sort of groupie or something.
“Hey, what are hockey groupies called?”
“Puck bunnies,” Cal answers. He sits next to us. A slow grin forms on his lips. “They aren’t too bad on occasion.”
His brother rolls his eyes at that. “What about that one who wanted to know if we’d both fuck her at the same time? Is she included in the group of those who aren’t ‘too bad?’”
“She was crazy,” he agrees.
Three waitresses come with food and distract everyone. A huge plate is set before Brayden and me. I can’t believe Brayden ordered this. I glance over my shoulder at him.
“You ordered this?” I motion to the biggest burger I’ve ever seen with onion rings and fried pickles as sides.
“Just for you,” he says as I grab a fried pickle. “And that was before I heard that you love me.”
I nearly choke on the fried pickle, which only makes Brayden laugh as he pats my back and I get curious looks from his teammates. I grab my drink and take three gulps. Then, I elbow him in the gut. That is so not cool. Here I was thinking he didn’t hear me after all and he drops that bomb on me while I’m eating? He’s mean.
“Sorry, darlin’. Bad timing.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I glare at him. “You’re an asshole.”
He grins, leans forward, and I fall apart when his lips brush over my ear. “An asshole you love, Deanna.”
“Unfortunately,” I mumble, but all it does is make him laugh.
I started to wonder what was taking Deanna so long when Zane left the table. But it was shortly after that when I started glancing around and saw the two of them at the bar, talking. Deanna had to let him down again. While there was a small satisfaction at being right, I didn’t like it.
Then, I heard what she said. I teased her the entire night and then convinced her to come home with me again. If Deanna listened to me, she’s lying naked in my bed right now while I walk Otis one last time for the night. I told her to start without me. My mind now runs rampant with images of her pleasuring herself and thinking of me, waiting for me.
“And, and I love him, Zane.”
That one part repeats in my head. Not once has she told me this, but the way she said it, it was almost as if she just realized it herself. And she tells fucking Zane before me. That kid really pisses me off; I don’t know how much more I can take of him pining after my woman. But maybe now he’ll leave well enough alone.
“Otis, hurry the fuck up,” I demand, but he pays me
no mind. He wanders around the yard with me in tow like we have all the time in the world. At this rate, Deanna will be asleep by the time we get up there. “Finally!” I grumble. Otis trots toward the door.
I hear a moan as I set the alarm for the night. What the fuck is she doing up there? She’s not supposed to be having that good of a time all by herself. I free Otis and jog up the stairs, hearing another moan. Upon entering my room, however, I stop short. Deanna lies there with her hands behind her head and her ankles crossed. My eyes roam over her body while I try to understand what I see.
She laughs at my confused expression. “About time.”
“Those were fake moans?” I stand at the foot of the bed and begin to shed my clothes. The view of her body short-circuits my brain, especially with her watching me with her eyelids low and her breasts rising and falling with her every breath.
“Sounded nice, didn’t they?” The grin on her face is ridiculously proud.
I push my pants down, but pause. “Have you faked with me before?”
Deanna props herself up on her elbows. Her face is completely serious now. “No. I don’t fake.”
“Good.” Now naked, I grab her ankles and pull her forward. I lift each ankle and kiss them one at a time. “Darlin’.”
She hums.
“You said something tonight.” I kiss further up her legs, crawling onto the bed as I do so.
She huffs. “Can we forget about it?” she asks, clearly expecting me to tease her some more.
“No,” I state simply. She lifts her head, but it falls as I lie over her body, which tenses slightly beneath mine. “Tell me.”
Her inhale is shaky. Her hands tremble as she grabs my face. She’s obviously nervous, but the fact that she’s going through with it anyway? Turns me the hell on and makes me proud as hell of her. “For some reason, I love you. Happy?”
I nod and kiss her. Slowly. Thoroughly. Deeply. I kiss her until she releases one of those moans I heard earlier, only this time, it’s real. “I love you too, darlin’.”
She gasps softly. Did she honestly not expect that? Her short bursts of air hit my face. She seems frozen. So, I lean down and kiss her again. Her hips press into mine, a reminder that we’re skin to skin. I lean over to find a condom, groaning when I feel her hand wrap around my cock. Deanna pushes me to lie on my back and straddles my thighs.
“Tell me,” she demands.
“I love you.”
The slow rise of her lips as she strokes me is the best damn sight I’ve ever had before me. I hope to see it often throughout the rest of my life.
“Hello.” Mom’s voice is stiff and formal. I haven’t talked to her since I hung up on her after calling when I was pissed off over her talking to Deanna.
“Hey, Mom. How are you doing?”
“Just fine.”
“Good. I’m sorry for how things turned out in our last conversation and for talking to you like I did. I had just left Deanna’s. I know better than to call someone while I’m still pissed. Anyway, I’m sorry.”
Mom is quiet for a full ten seconds, probably hoping I’m sweating over whether she’ll forgive me or not. “Apology accepted. I’m assuming you and Deanna worked things out since you called me to apologize.”
“Yeah, we did.”
“Good. Christmas is coming up, you know.”
“Yes. You’re coming, right?”
“Well, I was wondering if you and Deanna would like to come here.”
“I don’t know; I can ask.” Why does she want us to come there anyway? I normally fly her here.
“Please do.”
Mom and I talk for a few more minutes before we hang up. Something is off for her to want me to go back home. Or maybe I’m being crazy. I call Deanna.
“I miss you,” she answers.
“Bad day?”
“Not really. Just miss you.”
“I’ll be home in a few days. What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m out to lunch with Raelynn.”
“Oh, well, I’ll be quick then. Mom wants us to fly out to see her for Christmas. I told her I would ask; I don’t know what you want to do about Otis.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you want to go?”
“I guess.”
“Okay. I’ll figure something out.”
“Call me later.” I pause. “I love you.”
She giggles. “Love you too.”
I smile as the call disconnects. She either gets a goofy smile on her face or laughs when I tell her, as if she still can’t quite believe it. It’s one reason why I tell her as often as possible. I want to soak up her reaction for as long as possible. I want to imprint it in my brain for the inevitable tough times. It’s the kind of memory I want to bring up when we’re old and forgetting what we had for breakfast, but can somehow remember these snippets from our younger days. Her reaction is something to savor and remember.
“You smiling freaks me the fuck out.”
I glance over at Liam Irving, our goalie, as he takes a seat next to me in the hotel’s restaurant. “If you smiled too much, it’d freak me out, too.”
He smiles, and I laugh. “You seem more relaxed than usual,” he says.
“How so?”
“The smile is a dead giveaway.”
I chuckle. “I don’t feel any more relaxed than usual. How’s your daughter doing?”
The mention of his daughter brings a real smile to his face. “She’s fine. I’m ready for Christmas, so I can spend some time with her.” He talks about his daughter, Ainsley, for the next thirty minutes while we eat. These parents, I swear, all you have to do is mention their kids, and off they go. I’m not so sure Scotty is as bad as Bruiser, Savage, and EJ. Come February, Marco will be just like them, I’m sure.
“Hey, would you want to dogsit over Christmas?” I ask him later when we’re walking to the locker room.
He shakes his head. “Ainsley is scared of dogs. Sorry.”
“You need a dogsitter, Hook?”
I turn around and see the Kessy twins. I have no idea which of them spoke since I didn’t see which one did it. Their voices are too similar in that regard. The only way I can tell them apart is because Cal is a tad taller and Collin keeps his face clean-shaven, whereas Cal rarely does. There are other ways to tell them apart, but those are the easiest for me.
“Yeah. Over Christmas. I’m going back to Michigan, but Deanna has Otis. He’s a Rottweiler, so he’s a big dog, but he behaves. You two want to do it? You can watch him at my house if you’d rather.”
The twins glance at one another for a moment, and I get that creepy feeling that they are communicating without talking again. Then, they both nod and say, “Sure, we’ll do it.”
I shake my head. “I thought you stopped that.”
The fuckers grin. “Not yet. Are we getting paid?”
“Yeah, in food.”
They nod, seemingly satisfied with that. After the game, I need to text Deanna that I found a solution for Otis and confirm with my mom we’re going. Tomorrow, I’ll email my travel agent to book our flights. It’s all falling into place.
If only I can figure out why Mom wants me home in the first place.
The next couple of weeks sail by without a problem. Something I didn’t notice before was how constantly suspicious Deanna seemed to be over her life and how that affected her. Granted, I didn’t know she worried and wondered if she was making the right decisions as much as she did. But I can tell a difference in her.
She seems more relaxed. She lets go of things. For example, I haven’t heard about her mother’s notebooks since our argument. I’ve been to her house, too, and I haven’t seen them lying around anywhere either. She checks in with her dad here and there, but his continued dismissal of her makes her shrug her shoulders in a what-can-I-do kind of way instead of making her worry. Best of all, I haven’t heard her mention how she makes bad decisions.
Maybe she’s finally realized she once made terrible decisions, but slo
wly grew up over the years and the number of bad decisions diminished as she did. That’s what I believe, at least. Once, she listed a bunch of shit she did that wasn’t good, but it was all either in high school or prior to or just after her grandmother dying, if I’m not mistaken. She has grown up; she just didn’t see that.
Now, we’re in the air and on our way to Michigan. Deanna squeezes my hand, which is in her lap, and I glance over at her.
“Do you think Otis will be okay with Collin and Cal?”
I laugh. “Yeah, darlin’.” She’s like a mom leaving her newborn for the first time. She was giving the guys instructions on how to care for him, telling them about his favorite toys, and making sure they knew he could be on the furniture...while he was currently standing on the couch, making that pretty obvious. Thankfully, the guys nodded seriously at her every word. “What did you get me for Christmas?” I ask to distract her.
She rolls her eyes. “Gifts are supposed to be a surprise. Unless you plan to tell me my gifts, then I’m not telling.”
“Fair enough.” That was the answer I expected anyway.
“Are you excited about coming home?”
I sigh and lean my head back against the headrest. “I don’t know. I feel like something’s up, so in that regard, no. Otherwise, yeah. I always like coming home.”
“What makes you think something is up?” Deanna rests her head on my shoulder as her free hand starts drawing circles on the topside of my wrist.
“Since I’ve been in the league? Haven’t been to Michigan for Christmas. Mom hasn’t asked me to come home, so I always fly her out to see me. Wouldn’t you think something is up?”
“I see your point.”
“At least if something goes wrong, you’ll be with me.”
At that, she lifts her head to show me her smile. “And I’ll do my best to be helpful.” She quickly kisses me before resting her head on my shoulder again, content with sitting like that until we land.
Turns out, my gut feeling was right. Confusion swamps me when we spot Mom waiting by baggage claim with a man, who looks a lot like my very first hockey coach, Perry Hall.
Attached to You (Carolina Rebels Book 6) Page 21
