Page 60 of The Grinder

“Yeah, okay, no problem. Seriously, I get it. I’ll give you a call after the game, okay?”

And maybe he really hadn’t wanted her there to begin with. “Of course.”

“Great. Okay, I really gotta get moving. CJ and I need to be on the road in a few. We have to check in with the assistant coach…”

“Oh, that’s—”

“…before six. And yeah, traffic’s gonna be a bitch.”

Feeling sick to her stomach and fighting the urge to hyperventilate, Aly sucked in a deep breath. “Riley…you’re going to be amazing tomorrow.”

“Thanks, hon.” He huffed out a little laugh. “I hope like hell you’re right. You can probably catch the game on TV. Let me know how I look.”

A lump formed in her throat.

“Of course. Riley…I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it. Look, I hate to cut this short—”

“No, I totally understand. You have to go. Just…have a great game. I have no doubt you’ll be wonderful.”

“Let’s hope. I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.”

“That’s great. Good luck, Riley.”

“Thanks, hon.”

He didn’t say good-bye, just disconnected.

And by the time Aly put her phone down on her desk, she had to suck in air because it was getting tougher and tougher to breathe.

Her eyes burned and she blinked fast, willing back the tears that had popped up for no reason.

It wasn’t like she’d never see him again. And if she didn’t, well…

It would suck. Go ahead, at least you can admit it to yourself.

Her desk phone rang, startling her so badly, she flinched and gasped, her hand flattening over her heart.

After another three rings, she grabbed it and tried to go back to work.

Knowing she’d made the totally wrong decision and still unable to do anything to change it.

* * * * *

CJ ran at the mouth the entire drive to Philly.

Riley was driving, partly because he was worried the kid would be overly excited and run them into a wall. And partly because it would keep his mind off his conversation with Aly.

While CJ catalogued every player on the Colonials—their strengths, their weaknesses, their freaking PIMs, for chrissakes—Riley answered when he needed to and kept his eyes on the road because, holy fuck, was there a shit-ton of traffic.

Logically, he knew Aly had been right. She never would’ve made the game for puck drop.

So why the hell are you so fucking frustrated?

Because he’d wanted her there. He wanted to share this with her, wanted her to be there after the game to celebrate. Hell, he didn’t care if he got five minutes of ice time or twenty.

He’d finally fucking made it.

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