Page 66 of One Pucking Destiny

She grins contentedly. “I’m not quite so sure about that.”

I shake my head. “Well, have fun, and seriously… if contractions start, we’re leaving.”

“Would you just go sit down?” She chuckles. “I got this.”

I take my seat beside Iris and watch as the guys warm up, secretly hoping that Bash will look this way so I can give him a wave. I don’t like the way our interaction ended. I may not want a relationship, but I don’t want to hurt him either.

The game starts, and it’s close. As soon as the Cranes get a point, Vancouver sweeps in for a point, tying them up. Not that there are many points. I’ve realized that hockey isn’t like other sports where the points rack up quickly. We’re now in the third period, and it’s still one-one.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Iris states, chewing on her lip. “I know I shouldn’t be saying that out loud, but don’t the guys look off tonight?”

“I don’t know enough about hockey to know if they do.”

Iris throws her hand out. “Look at that. Bash totally messed up that pass. That’s not like him.”

She goes on to point out some of the other mistakesthe players have made, but I zone out, focusing on her comment about Bash.

With a minute left on the clock, Vancouver scores a point. Iris groans, holding her face in her hands. “Well, I guess we go on to game six. It’s okay. We’ll get it back next game. It would’ve been nice to win at home, though. Will you be coming to Vancouver?”

“No, I have to work.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

The game ends with a depressing loss, and the guys file off the ice to the locker room. There’s still no look from Bash. It’s crazy to think that our interaction before the game might have affected his play, resulting in this loss. He’s a professional, and I’m certain he’s been separating emotions from the game for years. But I still feel guilty. I have to remind myself that Iris stated they all seemed off tonight. It wasn’t just Bash.

Still, remorse weighs on my heart. I don’t like the way we left things, but I have nothing to offer that would make it better. So I text my mom that I’ll wait for her in the car. She’ll be a while, as she has post-game follow-ups with the guys. But I don’t want to be in here anymore. As big as this arena is, it feels incredibly suffocating.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

BASH

Two shit performances in a row, and not just any ole competition—games five and six of the Stanley Cup finals. It’s frustrating because we should’ve won the Cup in game five.

The hour drive to Ari’s apartment is torture. I’ve taken this drive countless times to see my sister. Some good music, and it always flies by. This time, all I can do is replay all of my mistakes over the past two games in my head.

We lost the Stanley Cup last year in the final minutes of the last game. After Beckett was slammed into the boards, resulting in his knee injury—the team kind of lost it. Our emotions ran high, and we missed our chance. Some teams never get the opportunity toplay in the final round of the Stanley Cup finals and most don’t get to the final round two years in a row. We coined this year as our redemption season, determined to get the victory we lost last season.

And we’re fucking it up. We have one more chance tomorrow in game seven. It means everything. At the very least, I need to do my part to get my head right so I can play my best.

I don’t like how things were left with Ari the last time I saw her. To say our interaction made me play like shit during game five and six is probably a stretch. I have no one to blame for my performance other than myself. Regardless, the flippant dismissal hurt. We may not have a title pinned to this thing we’re doing, but to pretend it’s nothing is far from fair.

I feel like I’ve been patient, loving, and supportive of her and the issues that she needs to work out. Yet she gives me no flexibility in return. I love her so much it hurts. Maybe I’m crazy, but I have to believe these feelings wouldn’t exist if the feeling wasn’t mutual. Deep within my soul, I think she loves me, too. She’s simply too scared to admit it.

I’m not the type of person who falls in love easily. In fact, I’ve never been in love—until Ari. She’s not a fleeting fascination, a good lay, or solely someone to pass the time with. She’s everything. She’s my future, and it’s literally killing me that she won’t see it.

I’ve tried so hard to give her the space she needs, but none of this distance is helping. She refuses to lower her guard an inch. At the last home game, she acted as if she barely knew me. As much as I love her, I need something more. She has to give me something. Anything. Or I’m going to lose my mind. Living in limbo is sucking the life out of me. I’m reminded of my mom and her frequent advice—You can’t change another person. They have to want to change themselves.

Ari is scared, and I understand that. I’ve given her months and everything I have to reassure her. In the end, it’s her choice. If she doesn’t choose me—I have to choose myself.

Tomorrow is the last game of the Stanley Cup finals. Every person on our team has worked their entire lives to make it to this moment, and we deserve it. We’ve fought blood, sweat, and tears to get here. It’s our game to win. My clouded mind and wounded heart will not be the reason we lose. I have less than twenty-four hours to clear my head and lock it on straight. Whatever the result, I will have an answer before the game tomorrow.

Having finally arrived, I make my way up to her apartment. Pausing with my fist an inch from her door, I inhale a fortifying breath and knock.

A few seconds later, Ari opens the door still dressed in her scrubs from work.

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