Page 25 of Permanently Pucked

They’d come home and told us everything was great, though. They’ve been all smiles and glowing faces and renewed excitement now that everything was official and there was a medical chart.

"It's not about Danielle," Nathan says, clearly reading me. "I think you and I need to talk about…us."

Ugh. That should sound weird. But that just means it’s about hockey. The subject we’ve been avoiding because we have a rule about that at home and I’ve been avoiding the arena.

I sigh. "Fine. I can come by your office tomorrow." I guess I can’t put it off forever.

But Nathan shakes his head. "Just come outside."

I lift a brow. "Literally just outside the house counts as complying to the no-hockey-talk-at-home rule?"

He shrugs. "Why not?" Which not only confirms that this conversation will be about hockey, the Racketeers, and the championship, but means he doesn’t want to put it off.

Dammit.

I push up from the couch. Might as well get it over with.

I follow him out the front door and down the steps. He doesn’t stop until he’s out on the sidewalk, the first strip of public property.

I chuckle, but then when he stops and turns to face me, I swallow hard. I have something I need to say to him, too, and it’s probably past due.

"I’m sorry," I say before he can speak. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my athletic shorts. "I let you down, and I feel like shit. But I promise you, my head and heart are here and next season I’m gonna give it my all."

Nathan nods, then says, "That’s what I want to talk about."

I frown and my heart rate picks up, even though I know the chances that Nathan is going to cut me from the team or trade me away are almost zero. Even if I wasn’t his wife’s boyfriend–which still sounds fucking weird. We lost our final game, but I had a hell of a season.

I decide to point that out. "I played my ass off for you this year," I say. "This is where I want to be. Please tell me you’re not doubting my dedication. I have a lot of good hockey years ahead, and I want to spend them here in Chicago."

He frowns. "Good. I didn’t realize any of that was in question."

I frown back at him. "Well I didn’t think it was either, but the way you’re acting-–"

"I’m acting like a guy who really cares about someone who cares about hockey more than anything else in his life and took the loss really hard. I’m talking to you as a friend. Hell as more than a friend. We’re…whatever we are. It’s tense at home and part of that’s on me. But I’m not standing here talking to you as your owner." He pauses. "I’m sorry you thought that. We need to figure out how to be both things…all of the things…we are to each other. I think that’s just going to take us some more time."

I let that sink in and then straighten. "Oh." I pause, swallow, then say, "Thank you. But," I add quickly. "I don’t care about hockey more than anything else. It’s not my only love anymore. But I hope that you, of all people, are glad to hear that and understand."

Nathan nods. "Of course I am. But…" He shoves a hand through his hair. "Fuck, McNeill, I don’t care about hockey more than anything else either. Anymore. And yes, that means Danielle, but it also means you. A year ago, yes, you were only a player to me and how you performed on the ice was key. Now…of course, it’s more than that. I’ll be honest," he continues. "I was very disappointed. And yes, probably a little angry the first night. But that’s because I built this up to be more than it should’ve been. Would I have loved to have the championship? Absolutely. And did I go into the season thinking that it was a must have for my grandfather? Yes."

"That’s okay," I insert. "It’s understandable. And you’ve got to know that I hated letting Stan down."

"I know. But I don’t want you to feel that way," Nathan says. "You gave us your all, Crew. My grandfather loved watching you play." He stops and clears his throat as if it suddenly got tight. I know mine did.

"He enjoyed this season so much," Nathan says. "Your contribution to all of it was never in question. Not even when the final buzzer went off. I never for a second thought that you let up or that you stopped caring. You’re still Crew Fucking McNeill. Bringing you here was probably the best decision I ever made for this team. And I just wanted to say that. And I’m sorry that I haven’t said it before this. Michael and Dani kept telling me that you needed some time to process. That you just needed to kind of get over it on your own first. And maybe that’s true. But I feel like I should’ve said this before now."

I’m staring at him, trying to figure out if I am imagining this or if my boss, a man I respect very much, and one of my best friends, has just said some of the best things anyone could’ve said.

"So you’re not saying this because Dani and Michael told you to?"

"No. They thought I should give you more time. They thought I should let you initiate the conversation."

"Wow. Not only are you saying nice things, but you’re not listening to Michael."

Nathan nods. "Probably mistakes all around."

I have to grin at that. "Well, here’s another big surprise for us both—Michael was wrong."

Nathan actually cracks a smile at that. "Yeah?"

---