Page 35 of Not A Chance

My throat tightened at how hard that must be.

I didn’t know why I cared so much. I felt my forehead to see if I was coming down with something. Maybe that could explain the tightness in my muscles and my breathing becoming a little more difficult.

Theo was not my concern. We’d done an admirable job of being professional so far.

Professional meant that I avoided him at every possible opportunity, pre- and post-games.

Luckily, on the regular-season game nights, the media seemed to want to talk to the captain the most in terms of players, as if he had some magical insight into their current standing in the league. Then, when they wanted fodder for their social media highlights, they asked for Campbell, and he usually left them with something gossip-worthy.

And if Theo sometimes looked like he wanted to say something to me in the hallways of the arena, I’d buried my head in my tablet, pretending not to notice.

Maybe it was immature. Okay, it definitely was. But we weren’t friends.Icouldn’t be friends with him.

So, really, it wasn’t as if I was letting my personal issues with Theoovershadow the job I was here to do. It was just convenient to be able to avoid him as much as I had.

The problem with Theo was that he was justso goddamn good. It made him irresistible. He had the terrible habit of being kind, thoughtful, loyal, and caring.

Because he would cast his spell over me again before I’d even know what was happening, I couldn’t risk it.

Movement in the seat beside me surprised me back into the present. I’d been thinking so intensely about Theo that I feared I’d conjured him into my orbit through thought alone.

I cast my eyes to my left, the air whooshing from my lungs in relief.

His eyes sparkling with mischief, Connor grinned his magazine cover smile at me.

“You’re pretty upbeat for a guy who just lost a game, sir.” I poked his rock-hard shoulder with my finger, hoping my voice sounded normal.

Ouch. Note to self. Don’t risk injury. Keep hands off hockey players. They were dangerous to my health, in more ways than one.

With the inner resilience and positivity that I was learning was just a part of who he was, Connor shrugged good-naturedly.

“Ah well. Can’t win ’em all, as they say.” He settled back into the coach seat, resting his head against the cushion, and unsuccessfully stifled a yawn.

“Really? Just like that?” I was skeptical.

He shrugged. “No, not really. But it won’t do my game any good if I’m obsessed with the last loss. Coach will torture us with endless reels of game tape and kick our asses in practice anyway. No point in borrowing trouble.”

What an amazing attitude to have. I’d always had a healthy respect for all athletes, but I was learning professional athletes were just sobeyond anything I could have imagined.

Between multiple games, practices, dryland training, and pre-skate conditioning, it was a wonder to me that they were even awake in their off hours.

“That’s a pretty laid-back attitude for a first-year professional hockey player on a team looking to win the Cup this year.”

“Yes, yes. All of that.” He waved his hand in the air in general agreement with my statement. “But damn, buddy. These back-to-back away games are kicking my ass. What I wouldn’t give for a night in front of the TV at my overpriced waterfront condo.”

Lovely. I’d been upgraded (or downgraded—who knew?) in the Connor nickname department. We really were on our way to becoming proper friends.

“Well, old pal. Emphasizing the ‘old’ part. What happened to that fresh-faced young man I just proofed a magazine article about?”

He rolled his head to the side and looked at me through slitted eyes.

“You wanna go there,Diaper Sniper? You’re the one rounding the corner on twenty-six between us. You were the one who asked me out in the first place.” His tired smile turned slightly mischievous.

“Diaper Sniper?” I laughed. I refrained from poking him again. “You certainly rewrite history well. If you recall, you invited yourself on my afternoon escapade. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah. I heard it from a teammate I had a couple years ago. He was older than you even, if you can believe it. He’d dated a fifth-year victory lapper or something while he was a first year. Er, I mean, a senior while he was a freshman in American college terminology. I thought it was a keeper.” His eyes closed on another yawn. “We’ll agree to disagree. Either way, it worked out great for you.”

“Thank you so much for the clarification. I don’t know how I would have managed without you to translate for me.”

---