Page 65 of The Pucking Grump

“My place. Two hours,” I whisper. Faye lets out a sound that’s half-acquiescence, half-desire. My dick hardens as I skate after my teammates.

“Look, X is already going crazy.” Ken passes his phone to me as we walk off the ice.

I look down. The hashtag is BlakeWhiteKnight. The first post reads, “Blake White defending his girl from a loser is everything I didn’t know I needed in this life. Second one reads, “Let’s admit it. We’ve all fantasized about two guys fighting over us. Only Blake White knows how to bring our fantasies into real life.” Another, “Tonight, Faye Strummer is the luckiest woman in the world.”

“You win X for tonight man.” Nelson grins.

“Maybe forever.”

“Shut up.” I brush past them into the changing room, but even I have to admit that everything is different. I don’t feel nearly as much irritation. Hell, even the prospect of being branded as a renowned loverboy doesn’t faze me anymore.

I think of Ben’s pallid face, his trying to get attention from Faye. She has moved on from him, sure. But I’m still a fake boyfriend.

Sooner or later, Faye’s going to fall for someone for real. And I’m going to be back at square one. Only, I’m always going to have that tint to my reputation now.

The hockey player who fell in love with—and got dumped by—Faye Strummer.

And yet, even that chilling thought doesn’t make me reconsider meeting up with her in a couple of hours.

I have changed.

And it might be worse thing than I realize.

21

CONFESSION IN THE CABIN

The mustiness of the room hits me the moment I push the door open. It’s a slightly stale smell, but I inhale deeply, tension draining off my shoulders. The room is shrouded in darkness, but I navigate easily, slipping past the couch to flick the lights on.

Blake’s cabin comes alive around me. It looks exactly like it did six weeks ago when we left to go back to the city. Seeing it again takes me back to my failed wedding night, how I felt seeing this place for the first time. I was so out of my element and uncomfortable.

Today, I can’t think of anywhere else that feels more like home.

I let my overnight bag fall to the floor. My guitar is hanging from my shoulder, and I place it gently on the table before settling on the couch. It feels almost weird to be here without Blake, even though it’s comforting in a strange sort of way.

He wasn’t able to come with me. As much as I will miss him, being alone will allow me to focus on what I came here to do.

Kevin looked at me like I was crazy when I told him I wanted a weekend away to start working on the new album.

“I think you should do it in a studio,” he said. “You know, like your fellow musicians?”

But I insisted. Most of my past songs were written under a lot of pressure, with my dad hovering and lyricists in the background. Yeah, I wrote most of the lyrics, but they were always just a fantasy.

This album is going to represent the true me. I want that more than anything. Since this spot is where I really started to figure myself out, there’s nowhere better to work on it than here.

I bend over, reaching for my notepad and a pen. Poising the pen over the blank sheet, I wonder what to write about first. My father’s betrayal? Coming into my own for the first time in my life?

My faux relationship?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. As always, thinking about it takes me back to the hockey game less than two weeks ago. When Blake stepped between Ben and me and told him to back off. How he smiled when his teammates gathered around me.

In those moments, the line between what is fake and what is real was the blurriest it had ever been.

I recall Kevin’s words, “Blake isn’t a relationship sort of guy . . . no matter what it seems like.”

I can’t tell if this is still true. After the most amazing sex of my life—it gets better with him every single time—he’d flown out for his next couple of games. We’ve kept up with our usual flirty texts. I’ve also watched his post-match interviews, where reporters insist on asking him about me. He is always cordial, responding to their questions politely, saying the right things.

It feels as if we are for real. It seems more genuine than my relationship with Ben, and that went on for a full seven years. I find myself texting Blake way more than I ever did with Ben, and he occupies my thoughts much more than Ben ever did. Also, I definitely feel more things now.

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