Afterward, the team disperses because they’ve got a while before our team tape-watching session, but Bronwyn dawdles until it’s just the two of us.
“Coach?”Call me Ash.“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I look around, but there’s no one here to overhear whatever it is she has to say. Her lips purse, pink and full, and she has a hard time looking me in the eye. Finally, though, she does.
“I wanted to apologize about last night. My actions were not acceptable, and I am so, so sorry.” Her voice is shaky, and her face is red, and I—all I want to do is hug her. But that’s a no-go. So instead I fold my arms over my clipboard and hold it to my chest, trying not to be too despondent it isn’t her.
“Apology accepted, although unnecessary. Not that I want to do that every night, or you know, ever again, but we’re cool. Don’t worry about it.”
I reach out and give her a bro punch on the arm that makes her smile a little. But under the curve of her generous lips, there’s still sadness. The weight of grief. Part of me wants to shout at her.Why? Brody Hill is dickhead who doesn’t deserve to lick the blades of your skates. He’s not very smart, he’s a somewhat better-than-average hockey player, but he has no real love for you. Talks smack about your incredible skills out of jealousy, and makes your body public property by using your sex life for locker room fodder. Why, for the love of my Jeff Halpern jersey, would you feel bad about the loss of that Neanderthal, especially after the way he took advantage of your success to get attention for himself, and when things didn’t go his way had a nuclear meltdown?
But Bronwyn’s not a stupid girl, and I’m not going to be the condescending asshole who asks her to validate her choices. Instead, I remind myself they’ve been together since she was fourteen. Started dating when they were both first-years in prep school, and have stayed together through college. That’s almost eight years of being a couple, which is far longer than I’ve ever dated anyone. She’s had Brody by her side for almost half her life, for better or for worse.
As I think about it, it becomes more obvious to me what she’s lost. Maybe it’s not even Brody himself, but just this massive piece of her life that’s no longer there. Which I get, only too well. My hip throbs as if to prove a point. No, I can’t play hockey anymore, but I’ve found another way. Bronwyn doesn’t have Brody anymore, but maybe she can also find another way. In her case, I hope a better way.
In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to make this easier on her, because not only is she one of my best players and a role model for the rest of the team, but she’s also a person in pain, one whom I care about—probably more deeply than I should—and I want to ease her suffering. It’s easy to accept her apology and try to buck her up, even a little.
“Look, B. I get it. You and Brody were together for a long time, and even if you’re not sorry about refusing his proposal and the fallout from it, he was still a massive part of your life for a long time. It must be unsettling to have your life change so much in the blink of an eye, especially when you’re already under a lot of pressure. So here’s what. I’m going to make you an offer, and you can do with it what you will.”
A spark of interest lights her eyes, and I have to hold myself back from stepping in close and wrapping an arm around her waist, touching my nose to hers and breathing in the hard-working smell of her. Instead, my knuckles whiten around my clipboard. “I’ll be your anchor. I’ll fill the gaps. If you feel like calling Brody, call me instead. If you usually eat lunch with him, I’ll meet up with you. There must be a hundred things you do every day that make you think of him. Don’t think of him, think of . . .”
Me. Think of me.“Uh, hockey.”
She smiles at me, a funny twisted-up thing that makes me think she’s trying not to laugh. Which is fine. She could totally laugh at me and I wouldn’t care. “So, you’re going to be the nicotine gum to my Brody cigarette?”
Whatever you do, do not think of being in her mouth.For fuck’s sake, I may have to move this clipboard lower if I get any more filthy ideas. But yeah, she’s got the gist. “Yep. Sure am.”
That fucker certainly is a cancer, and I’m glad she’s going to kick the habit, even if it means she’s going to chew me up and spit me out. But I know her; she wouldn’t mean to. It’s just . . . what’ll happen, because nothing else can.
While we’re standing here in this empty hallway leading off the rink that smells of new construction and fresh paint, and she’s still got all her gear on and I’m still in my Coach role, I can at least get the details on what this might mean. For the both of us.
It might’ve been a stupid offer, but I can’t take it back, and fuck, don’t even want to. Before I can change my mind, I spill. “So, tell me. What do you miss about Brody?”
Please don’t get all starry-eyed and say,Everything. He was the love of my life, my soulmate. The peanut butter to my jelly, the burger to my fries, the milk to my cookies.I think I’d die. Also, there’s no way Bronwyn would say something so cheesy. But this is all my brain can come up with. I was never much for English class.
She blinks up at me, her golden eyes surrounded by that dark fringe of lashes, and her sable hair falling over her shoulder from her ponytail that’s come loose during practice. Why could it not have been one of my players to whom I have zero attraction having relationship trouble? Why did it have to be her—the one who makes me want to break all the rules?
“This is going to sound terrible—” That’s fine. There’s no love lost between me and Brody. “—but sometimes he was just a warm body, you know? Human contact? I really like to be . . . held.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. This snapshot of me and Bronwyn huddled up under a blanket in front of my flat-screen over the fireplace at my little house in Carlisle flashes in my brain. We’d watch the Bruins and throw popcorn at the screen. When the game was over, maybe we wouldn’t make it all the way to the bedroom before we were tangled up in each other’s limbs, ready to get naked.
No, nononono.My brain is well aware this is a terrible idea and I should stay far the fuck away from anything remotely like touching Bronwyn in an intimate way. My mouth, on the other hand . . . well, my mouth has different plans. “I could—I could do that?”
Shit.Mouth, if you’re going to make a dickface out of me, could you at least be more assertive about it?But I can’t spend too much time beating myself up, because Bronwyn’s looking at me, her round eyes rounder than usual. “Hold me?”
Jeez. If there are things I want more than to be close to Bronwyn, even if it’s only for body heat, I can’t think of what they might be.
Since I’ve already opened this can of worms, might as well tip it into my mouth and chug.Yes, I could.But now my mouth seems to have gotten a better grip on reality and I’m left standing there, gaping at her. Can’t say it, won’t say it. Then she’ll be able to tell . . . how I feel about her. What I want from her. And that is a no-go.
Luckily, Bronwyn hasn’t had the same breakdown between her mouth and her brain. “Isn’t that . . .”
She’s blushing. I didn’t think she could get any prettier, but this isn’t the red of ice-burned cheeks or the spots of cold-plus-exertion. It’s the pink flush of embarrassment and it’s gorgeous. I am so screwed.
“ . . . Isn’t that inappropriate?”
“Wildly,” I concede, and she laughs. A short, startled noise, and it makes me smile back, one corner of my mouth tugging up helplessly, because now the urge to have her in my arms is this tangible thing. I thirst for her, want to drink her all up. “If anyone found out, I’d probably get fired. But they’re not going to do that in the middle of the SIGs, especially since we’ve reached the semifinals. And if it helps you through this, and gets you ladies home with medals around your necks, it will have been worth it.”