Page 118 of Play the Game

I have never wantedto get home more than I do at this moment. My body is wrecked, and although we won and came back from our home loss, the team has been rowdy since climbing back onto the plane. All I want is to be at home with Scottie.

I’ve never looked forward to dressing up in an uncomfortable suit and spending my evening at a charity event, making small talk with businessmen and women with pockets larger than the majority of the country, but the fact that I get to have Scottie by my side in that sexy red dress has me counting down the seconds until we’re landing on the runway.

As soon as the seatbelt light goes off and we’re steadily flying toward Chicago, I stand from my seat and head to the back of the plane where it’s quieter. Some of my teammates call me a grandpa, but I keep walking with my middle finger raised up high.

They all laugh. Even Coach Jacobs chuckles. When I get to the last row, away from the majority of them, I grab my phone and silently thank the National Hockey League’s air program for putting Wi-Fi on their planes.

It’s a shared jet between the teams, which is why we have to take off right after a game so someone else can use the plane, but at least we have Wi-Fi and don’t have to fly commercial with fans pretending not to take candid photos of us.

You up?

Yes. Good game, Olson.

Where are you?

I grin.

On my way home to you.

Why does that make me so fucking excited, and why do I miss her? I was with her no less than ten hours ago. I’ve never missed anyone like I do her.

Why? Miss me?

I wait like a child on Christmas morning with my phone in my hand. I’m twenty-six years old and hanging on a woman’s every last word via text message.

Who am I?

I wouldn’t admit it if I did.

I chuckle while typing.

I’ll take that as a yes.

Her next text surprises me.

Do you miss me?

I have no problem admitting that I miss her.

I miss you when you’re across the room from me.

It’s not a lie. It’s the truth, even if I’ve yet to say that out loud.

You do not.

It doesn’t surprise me that she doesn’t believe it. I swear something has happened in her life that made her insecure. What makes her think I wouldn’t miss her? I miss everything about her. I bet anyone who has come into contact with her misses her presence the second she’s gone. Scottie leaves her mark on everyone, even if she doesn’t realize it.

I miss everything about you. I miss your snarky comebacks that keep me on my toes. I miss the way you roll your eyes at me when you think my back is turned. I miss watching you sink your teeth into a biscotti and how your lips wrap around the rim of your coffee mug in the morning.

I hit send, and my heart beats so loudly I can’t even hear the rumble of the plane’s engine.

I become irrationally angry when I reread her text. I’m about to make it my sole purpose to show her how much I miss her after every away game.

Hell, maybe I’ll show her how much I miss her when I’m just at practice for a few hours.

Wait until I get home. I’ll show you how much I miss you then.

I can’t decide if that’s a threat or not.

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