Page 65 of One More Time

His lip quirked into a sad grin. “For everything I suppose—the hot and cold, acting like a dick, not telling you about Zane. Though despite what he thinks, it’s his own fault he didn’t get into the AHL.”

I sighed, “Hunter Graves: damaging everything wherever he goes. Thanks for the apology. See you tomorrow, Boston.”

I made to shut the door, but his large palm stopped it. “Ty… please, baby.”

I closed my eyes because my heart was beating out of my chest. I couldn’t think straight when he called me baby.

“I really am sorry, okay? My life is complicated, but I talked to Jarman, and—”

“Jarman fucking knows?” The fury in my voice was purely driven by the anxiety of being outed to another teammate.

“He already knew. I didn’t have to tell him.”

I’d had enough. “Leave, Hunter.” Then I shut the door in his face.

“Baby…” His voice was broken on the other side of the wooden door. I scolded my heart for wanting to comfort him.

“I am not your baby.”

Once I made sure Jamie was tucked in, I retreated to my bedroom. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something just within my grasp was going to be yanked away once more.

The second game against Merrimack was almost the same: the hits came hard, but my “don’t fuck with me” attitude seemed to work in our favor. Despite our tension off the ice, Hunter and I were magnets in the game. Our passes were flawless and he set me up for two goals that had our home crowd cheering. Hunter tried the post-goal celebration each time, but I was quick to return to the bench and celebrate with everyone else. I just couldn’t look at him. Looking at him would mean I would cave, and I couldn’t cave. Not anymore.

We finished the game with a one-point win once again. This time, spirits were high as everyone cheered in the locker room, sticks banged against the floor in celebration for a good closing game before winter break. Coach caught my eye and inclined his head to the door, indicating for me to follow. There, just outside the locker room doors, was Connor Bellamy, wearing that million dollar smile. “Hey, kid, great couple of games.”

I hoped he didn’t notice the way my own smile didn’t meet my eyes. Those games were some of the sloppiest I’d ever played. Scrappy wasn’t normally my style, but that team deserved it. “I liked seeing the two sides of you. You’re a versatile player, which is what the league would be interested in.”

Before I could say anything, the doors opened and Hunter approached, his showstopping grin on full display. “Hunter Graves, it’s good to meet you.“ Connor outstretched hand to greet him. Hunter made me a fool by acting calm, cool and collected in front of NHL royalty.

“I should be saying that to you, sir. You’re the legend here.” Hunter oozed charm, and I found myself naturally fumbling with my gear to appear busy.

“I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to say how much I enjoy you two on the ice I have been watching closely, and your connection is great. I hope to see more of it.”

“Oh, you will, sir. Aus and I have great chemistry on the ice, but as much as I’d love to take credit, it’s all him. He has a striking ability in being able to read his team.”

I shot daggers at him with my eyes. What the hell was he doing? Connor gave us a smile and handed a business card to each of us. “It doesn’t go unnoticed. Here’s my info. I’d like to set up some meetings, and talk about your future.”

I took it eagerly, as did Hunter. “Again, good game. Coach, thanks for the tip.” Connor waved goodbye to us. I looked down at the card as if it could hold my future. Do you see this, Mum? My stomach churned and I bit my lip to fend off my emotions.

“I knew you’d make it to the big leagues, baby.” Hunter bumped into my shoulder, but I pulled away.

“Come on, Riley. You can’t stay mad at me forever. You at least have to let me explain.”

“Hunter, I’m not in the mood, okay? I saw what I needed to see: a scorned ex who gave me a black eye.”

“I was only trying to protect him.” Hunter’s tone was shaky. I turned to look into his eyes, seeing a disheartened look that got my own heart lurching with the need to comfort him.

“How does breaking someone’s nose protect them? Is this some American thing I don’t understand? Because where I come from, you call someone a cunt and call it a day.”

Hunter choked on a laugh. “Dude, seriously, your language.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry: a dumb dog, a wanker, twat—any insult. Fists are for a drunken bogan who’s sloshed off two cartons by five p.m.”

Hunter looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “Okay… I was protecting him; he needed to realize I was bad news. He wasn’t taking a hint.”

“So you’ll do the same to me if I get too close? All you have to do is tell me to fuck off.”

“No,” he whined, looking around as our freshly showered and dressed teammates filed out of the locker room.

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