Pre-divorce, I’d roll into the rink, dressed in whatever the hell I felt like and slide into the bleachers next to the other parents of the dream team. For out-of-town games, we’d stay at the same hotel as the team and meet in the lounge to talk and laugh and drink all night. Then repeat it again the next day until it was time to drive home.
Conner was already at the rink, getting dressed and warming up. The benefit of small-town hockey—he could walk from the high school to right next door for practice.
Mason had his license. He even had a car. It looked like I’d pass it broken down on the side of the road at any time, but it got him around town. Would playing on the team again convince Conner to let me finish teaching him how to drive?
That was a worry for another day. I had to face my past and show them the new me—the one that was exactly like the old me. The one my husband left.
What to wear, what to wear.
I zoomed into my bedroom. I couldn’t look like I’d tried too hard, but I also couldn’t look like I usually did on Friday nights—like a VSCO girl, or whatever Conner called the girls with their hair in scrunchies, wearing oversized T-shirts with mom jeans and Crocs.
Was there a version of VSCO who was in their mid-thirties and didn’t spend much time on social media?
No scrunchie tonight. I let my hair hang loose, wishing I’d saved enough for more than a haircut last week. It hung past my shoulders in loose waves. Taking one last look in the mirror, I patted myself on the back for getting the garden going again this past summer. My time in the dirt lightened enough strands that I didn’t look like I’d let myself go.
Jeans were a good fit for a chilly rink. I dug out my rarely used pair in my new size. If I wasn’t in slacks or leggings for work, I was in my pajama pants. Tugging the pair on, I breathed a sigh when they zipped and buttoned with no issues.
Yep. I looked like exactly the same woman my husband left, just sturdier. But it wasn’t like a fairy godmother was going to appear to give me a makeover for a hockey game.
Choosing a pale blue sweater that was a step up from my ratty college one, I stepped in front of the mirror. My running shoes would pair off the look.
It would have to do.
My stomach grew more tumultuous on the drive to the arena. I parked at the edge of the lot, wishing the walk across to the building would take another hour. But I didn’t want to miss my son playing and ultimately, that was why I was here.
I didn’t see more than acquaintances in the parking lot or walking through the throng of people gathered in the entrance. A rush of cool air wafted over me, and I glanced to the usual spot my old crowd used to sit.
They were there.
Jordan’s mom Grace. Cullen’s mom and stepdad. Tappen’s dads. Korey’s mom Laurie and his dad. Grace was the first to spot me.
Her deep brown eyes went wide, but then her mouth dropped open. She held her arms out and rushed down the bleachers. “Jess, how are you?”
I stood like a deer that was blinded by the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. People had seen her reaction and were looking for the object of her attention. I avoided looking at any of them. Grace reached me and encapsulated me into a giant bear hug.
“Hi, Grace,” I squeaked.
“Oh, honey,” she murmured in my ear. “This has to be so hard.”
We exchanged a look. She’d left her abusive husband when our kids were in fourth grade. “It is.”
She grabbed my hand. “Come sit, just like the old days.” Towing me up the steps, she kept talking. “Varsity. Can you believe it? I keep telling Jordan that I’m going to get him a set of Thomas the Train jammies for old times’ sake.”
I laughed, a real one. I didn’t have to pretend to be happy to see Grace. Grudgingly, I glanced up at the rest of the crew. Penny Laurie waved. Her husband gave a nod, but his priority was the boys lining up on the bench.
“You can sit next to me. Then our chatting won’t bother the others.”
Why weren’t Grace and I better friends?
That’s right. Carrie had dominated the group. Or at least me. We’d been close, yet I never referred to her as my best friend. Like something inside me had sensed there was just something a little too superficial about our friendship.
We sat. The others greeted me and seemed genuinely pleased to have me sit with them. The dream team was back together.
Grace scooted closer to me. “We missed you last year. Did you hear how these guys dominated JV?”
I’d kept up with the sports news. If I missed it on TV, I was online or sneaking my agency’s newspaper the next day. “I did. Conner was just…”
Grace patted my arm. “Say no more. It was quite an upheaval.” She leaned closer. “Jason McGee is coaching for the club now.”
“He’ll be good.” The club ran on volunteer coaches. Kyle had received some compensation, but reliving his college glory days had been more important. He’d never said that he blamed me for the end of his big hockey days, but I inferred it. The stories he’d regale his buds with always ended with him saying, “And then Jess got pregnant.”
As if I was the reason he wasn’t making millions in the NHL. Surely, it had nothing to do with his sloppy puck support and need to be the hero on the ice. I was amazed he could coach a team when he couldn’t play well with a team.
The game started, and all my worries drained away. I was back to cheering on my son and his team, roaring when they scored—and they did. Twice in the first period. Throughout the whole game, my gaze was drawn to Hayden. He paced back and forth on the other side of the boards, wearing black slacks and a warmup jacket over a button-up white shirt. Sometimes, he’d sit with a player for a few minutes, then be back up. He watched the game like a hawk, his eyes never leaving his players or the other team.
Once the game finished and our side was applauding the Snowbirds’ win, I took my eyes off Conner leaving the ice and my gaze connected with Hayden’s. My lungs froze. The intensity from the game was lingering in his eyes and was directed at me. I went from mildly chilled to heat flushing my body. I’d gone to plenty of high school games that Hayden coached but had never been on the receiving end of this. We stared at each other. I had to do something.
I nearly lifted my hand to give him a wave but stopped, settling with a small smile. One of his brows cocked and his attention was pulled away by a player. Breath whooshed out and I nervously glanced around. Had anyone seen that?
Grace was gathering her bag and blanket, balancing it all with a cup in her hand.
“Here, let me help.” I took her blanket and seat pad.
“Thanks. I swear, the older I get, the more padding I need to sit through these games without my back going out.”
I said good-bye to the others, a metric ton of weight off my shoulders. The first game was in the bag. I could do this. My only concern was Conner and Mason, and I sensed they each needed some time.
When Conner was done, he met me in the car and we went home. He disappeared into his room in the basement. I brushed my teeth, put on my normal Friday night outfit and sat in bed to scroll through TV channels.
My phone rang. Frowning I looked at the screen. Hayden.
“Hello?” Had something happened during the game? Conner said it all went well, and he was grinning about the win. So why would Hayden call?
“Hey, Jess. Did I wake you?” His voice dripped through the line as smooth as chocolate fondue, the real stuff, made with cream.
“How boring do you think my life has gotten that I’d be asleep by eleven on a Friday?”
“If it’s anything like mine, I’m dead on.”
I laughed, then pressed my lips together. Conner was supposed to be downstairs, but just in case, I didn’t want him to hear me. “Well, I am in bed, but I was going to watch TV.”
He sighed and I heard rustling like he was adjusting his position in bed. “What are you watching?”
Were we… Were we talking to each other while in bed? That felt intimate. I
t was something I hadn’t done since I dated Jimmy Olson in high school. Our parents were too strict to let us stay out so we’d talk all night after our date.
I’d dumped him when I met Kyle in college.
“HGTV,” I answered. “I like to feel like shit about all the stuff I don’t do around here.”
“I stay far away from that channel. No more. Not since I ripped up the bathroom thinking I could get it done in one weekend if I worked round the clock.”
I gasped. “Oh no. Doesn’t your house only have one bathroom.”
“And there was the flaw in that plan.”
I giggled. Giggled. On the phone. On a Friday night. With a guy. “No plan B?”
“None. But I had to keep myself busy. That was the summer after…”
“Gotcha.” We fell quiet. I should ask him why he called, but then he’d tell me, we’d discuss it, and we’d hang up. I didn’t want the conversation to end. “Good game tonight, Coach.”
“Thanks. A few dumbass mistakes, but it was our first game. I saw you sitting with Grace.”
“Yes, she rescued me when I first walked in. It went well.”
“I was calling to check on you.”
He could’ve messaged. I’m glad he hadn’t. “Conner seemed pleased with tonight.”
“Mason too. Nights like this make me think he’ll actually graduate without any lingering ill effects from his mother.”
“Does she call?”
“Hardly.”
I never talked to Kyle. Once or twice, Conner mentioned talking to him. Did that mean Conner was dealing with this better, or worse? My gaze dropped from the TV to my hands. I nervously picked at my nails. “I’ll talked to Conner about Mason.”
“I appreciate it.”
So…Hayden had asked about me. We’d talked about our kids. That should be the extent of it, but neither of us offered to end the call. “What’d you do to the bathroom?”
His voice lightened, relieved to be moving on from the past that still haunted our present. “New vanity, new stool, and I put in a ceramic shower.”
“No kidding? That’ll really up your resale value.”
“I hope so. I want to move.” He paused. “A change would be good.”
I heard the unspoken “for Mason” on the end. “I can recommend an agent for you whenever you start looking. Unless you’ve already started the process.”
“Actually, I happen to personally know someone who sells houses. I’ve heard she’s good.”
A warm glow curled through my insides. He wanted to go through me? “Tell me what you want.”
He paused so long I was afraid he hadn’t meant using me as his agent, but then he started in. “I want a place about the same size, not much bigger. I’d like to have a yard to take care of, but not a lot of area that needs snow moved in the winter since I’m so tied up.”
He was describing his house. He must really want to change it up for Mason. “There are a few that fit the description open in town. When are you free to look at some houses?”
“Jess.” The way he growled my name with a hint of humor made bubbles erupt from my veins like fine champagne fizz. His following chuckle sent that sensation further south. “You know my schedule.”
Right. I did. I grinned. “So, you trust me to schedule a viewing whenever I want.” Saying that two years ago wouldn’t have felt like flirting, but tonight it did.
“Whenever you want, I’ll be there.”
I forced my mind back on business and less on how nice his voice was and if he was shirtless in bed. “Are you sure hockey season is the right time to look for a house? You’re going to be busy.”
“We’re just looking. It’ll be fine.” His tone made it sound like he was reassuring me that we were just talking, like it was normal and we did it all the time.
I used it as an excuse to stay on the line. “Hey, Conner’s had good luck catching rides after practice, but if he ever needs a ride home and I’m at a showing, can he jump in with you?”
“He can hop in with me whenever he needs to. Doesn’t he have his license? Oh, no car.”
Solid assumption now that we were on one income. “Both. Kyle was teaching him when he left, and he hasn’t wanted behind the wheel. I made him do driver’s ed but that was it.”
“Shit, Jess, I’m sorry.”
“How about we make a deal that we don’t apologize to each other about our exes’ despicable behavior?”
A gusty sigh blew over the line. “Deal. But don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll come out of it and have his license by summer.”
“I don’t know. We could make a bet,” I joked, unsure of what side I’d wager on.
“Since I can’t afford to bet, we could put a meal on the line.”
“Deal.” What was I thinking?
“Dinner it is. Cook’s choice for homemade or eating out.”
The stairs creaked, and I nearly dropped the phone. “Sounds good. I’d better let you go. Goodnight.” I couldn’t say his name in case Conner heard me. It might take him a minute to remember that Coach Lennox’s first name was Hayden and wonder why I was on the phone with him.
“Night, Jess. Remember, I’m always here.”
Chapter 4
A new listing came across my desk. A small three-bedroom house close to downtown Prairie Mills. It was on the other side of town as Hayden’s current place but closer to the school. Mason might only have a year and a half left, but Hayden would still be working.
My hand hovered over the phone to call him. I wanted to hear that rumble in my ear. And that was the problem. The night he’d called me, I could barely sleep. Achy, needy, and picturing that intense stare he’d held me immobile with. My hand had crept under the covers to touch myself before I stopped. I was not finding relief in thoughts of Hayden. On principle, I didn’t get off that night, or any night since then.
A message then. I checked the practice and game schedule and settled on Sunday before I had an open house—in case I was tempted to linger and visit longer than was appropriate for friends.
Sunday. 1:00. Double-checking the address, I sent that next. Then a gap in the practice jumped out. Tonight would work for him too. If he didn’t have plans. I messaged the option.
His response was immediate. Tonight. I’ll be there.
Tonight. I looked down at myself. Leggings and knee-high boots with a wrap-around cardigan-style dress warm enough to go without a coat while the sun was still up.
I hated how relieved I was that I wore something cute today.
Gathering all the data I could, I scoured information about the house and called the real estate agent for the couple selling. Then I ran to pick up Conner from school.
Just to try to win the bet, I waited until he slid in the passenger seat of my Accord before I said, “Wanna try driving home?”
He huffed out a breath and slumped. “Not today. I’m not feeling good.”
“Glad you didn’t have practice tonight then.” The drive home went quickly, and my eyes kept drifting to the clock on the dash.
“I have a showing tonight, so I’ll have a quick bite with you and take off again.” He was used to the drill.
He kept his gear in the car and went inside with barely a grunt my way.
Our supper of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup was a common meal for us, and one of my favorites, but I didn’t taste any of it, and I could barely finish my sandwich.
It was just a showing. Occasionally, I sold houses to friends. This was just like those times.
“Gotta go, kiddo. You good?”
Conner arranged his dishes in the dishwasher, an occurrence that still amazed me. “Yeah. I have some homework that’ll take a while.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll have my phone on if you need anything.”
It was our normal routine, but guilt lapped at my heels as I went out to my car.
The little house for sale was dark, and I’d gotten here first. I was opening the door when Hayden pulled up in his
black SUV with the Snowbirds’ hockey emblem on the window. For the hockey gear, he’d told Kyle when asked if they were going to pop out more kids.
Carrie’s eyes had gone wide, and she’d paled, but she laughed it off. I had probably looked wistful. Back in the day, I had wanted more, but Kyle had wanted to reclaim the social life he thought he’d missed out on as an upper level college student with a baby.
Hayden got out and jogged up the sidewalk, his grin aimed at me. “How lucky was this, huh? On a night I don’t have practice.”
“I hope I didn’t ruin big plans for your night off.” I popped the door open and led him inside. Faint light from a wax warmer cast a glow around the empty place. I flipped on the entry light, but it didn’t chase away any more shadows than the warmer.
He stepped in behind me, his smell flowing over me like a warm blanket warding off the chilly autumn air. Fabric softener and aftershave. I liked whatever brand he used much better than Kyle’s. “Watching Mason as he spends more time on his phone than doing homework is all I’m missing.”
“Same here. But Conner’s room is downstairs, so I wouldn’t even get to watch him.”
“Mason has a girlfriend, so that’s where the phone comes in.”
I spun around, the commentary on the house forgotten. “Seriously? Who?”
Conner might’ve had a girlfriend if he’d stayed with that circle instead of isolating himself. I hated to be grateful that I didn’t have to deal with his dating life on top of the divorce.
“Jenna Frost.”
“She plays soccer?”
“Yep.” The corners of his mouth drew down. “She’s a better player than she is a girlfriend.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. She reminds me of Carrie.”
“Oh no.”
His frown was gone, replaced by a smile. “Oh yes. So, I hope it means she’ll be moving on soon. It’d be for the best, though I doubt Mason is stellar boyfriend material at this stage in his life.”
“Can I gloat that Conner’s blissfully single?” I leaned down to unzip my boots and step out of them. I couldn’t see Hayden, but heat wicked over my back. Either my imagination was getting away from me, or he was watching me.
Offsides (A Playing Hard Novella Book 3) Page 3
