Page 39 of Icing the Enemy

When I let it slip that Corbin played for the Notes, it was an ah-ha moment for Sonny. It’s comical that Sonny wants me back. Sonny and I dated a couple of years ago and although his betrayal crushed me, I have very few people in my life that I can count on, and he’s one of them. Our friendship survived, and he has always been a shoulder to lean on when I was depressed and wondering how the world could be so cruel to take the only parents a child has.

I remember the first time Sonny and I had sex. It was awkward, fumbling, and only one of us had an orgasm. It wasn’t me. But it was also special and intimate, and at the time, I thought it would last forever.

He lost interest in me afterwards, and I caught him cheating. Now suddenly, when he “thinks” I have a hockey star boyfriend, he comes to the realization that he can’t live without me.

And to say it when my nose is bleeding—read the room, dude.

Despite moving on and dating other people, there’s a soft spot in my heart for Sonny. I suppose I’ll never forget my first love.

There’s a knock at my apartment door, and I yell, “Come in,” thinking it’s Sonny checking on me.

The door creaks open, and a woman says, “Hello? I need to speak with Oakley James.”

I remove the ice pack from my face and pinch my eyes. There’s a stranger in my house with a fairly thick Southernaccent. Hopping off the bed, I thread my legs through some shorts and throw on a t-shirt before entering the living area.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Corbin's sister.

“You’re a gold digger, and I’m making sure you don’t get a dime of his money.”

I tap my foot on the linoleum floor, crossing my arms. How dare she accuse me of being a gold digger?

“I don’t need his money—that’s the point.”

She looks around my six hundred square foot apartment, barely bigger than the hotel room I was supposed to share with Corbin. She lifts a curious brow and says, “I beg to differ. Your monthly trust allocation is nowhere close to what Corbin makes in one day.”

When I scrunch my face, a jolt of pain ripples through me. “Ow. I didn’t realize it was going to hurt when I made certain facial expressions.”

“That’s another reason I’m here to pick you up.”

“Why?”

“Corbin is doing an extra practice with their new goalie and since you don’t have a car, he asked me to bring you to his house so we can go over the terms of your…” She clears her throat. “Agreement.”

Since we’re supposed to get married soon, I swallow my pride, slip on my sandals, let Dixie out to use the bathroom, and put her in the kennel before going with Becca.

As Becca drives us to Corbin’s house, thoughts of our upcoming marriage and the terms of our agreement fight over whether this is morally right. I’ve lived a lot of life in twenty-one years. I had to overcome more than most people my age, so even though my heart pounds with nervousness, I’m doing what I have to do—marrying a hot as hell hockey star with a savior complex.

When we arrive at his house, Corbin greets us at the door in the shorter style swim trunks. Water beads dot his skin and sit in the curves of his uncombed hair. My breath catches as I scan the length of him, and his lips furl up on one edge.

He asks, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure, you are. But just in case, my doctor is in the living room,” he says with a cunning grin.

I snap, “I can take care of myself.”

He glances at his sister, and she wanders into the interior of his house. For a beat, he stares at me, then gently rubs his thumbs over my face. “I can’t. I have doctors, physical therapists, chiropractors, and trainers. And now that we’re in a relationship, it doesn’t matter that it’s fake or convenient, or that we’re both getting something other than love from it—I’m going to take care of you.”

I can’t suck in enough air to absorb his touching and caring words. He really is a good guy. What he doesn’t understand is I will not rely on him. I’ve been taking care of my mom since I was fifteen years old, practically raising myself and when she died… Well, it’s been lonely, and I never want to miss someone like I miss my mom. It hurts too bad.

When I don’t respond, he takes my hand and ushers me into the living room where a man in a white coat is talking to Corbin’s sister.

“Dr. Whitt, this is my girlfriend Oakley. I’ll leave you so you have some privacy.” Corbin exits the room, leaving me with the doctor. Dr. Whitt asks me how the accident happened. He seems to believe that it was a kickball accident. He uses the portable x-ray machine to peer at my bone structure, and luckily, my nose isn’t broken.

“Just keep icing it, alternate acetaminophen and ibuprofen as needed. And maybe not play kickball for a few weeks.”

“I understand.”

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