Page 105 of Trade Deadline

Blaine

Since we adopted Boomera week ago, it’s been a whirlwind of practice, home games, puppy cuddles and away games. We landed back in Chicago in the early hours of the morning after a three-day, two-game away stretch.

It’s also been two weeks since dinner with the Kendricks, and while Alex is feeling a lot better since his talk with Maria, the messages haven’t stopped. He’s shown me a few of the recent ones, and no matter how many accounts he blocks, they just keep coming. Alex has said he isn’t paying them any attention, just blocking and deleting, but I know they are getting to him.

When he thinks I’m not looking, his shoulders go rigid, and I can sense the inkling of doubt seeping through.

I’m not sure what I can do to prove to him that they are lies, and I don’t understand how these people think they’re entitled to interfere in my personal life.

They don’t know me. They only know the person they see on the ice, or the professional front in interviews. They don’t see the better person I am because of him or how fucking in love I am with him.

But I push those frustrating thoughts out of my mind because I have more important things to do.

Like seeing Alex for the first time in three days.

Shoving a team beanie on my head to hide my messy hair, I pick up my keys and head out the door.

The traffic heading up toward Lincoln Park is a sea of brake lights, meaning my usual twenty-minute journey takes fifty, and by the time I reach the bakery, he’s already outside.

He’s huddled in a thick coat, with a scarf wrapped around his neck multiple times and a hat pulled low on his head. I find somewhere to pull over, flashing my headlights at him to alert him of my arrival. The interior light comes on when he opens the door, highlighting his cold, pink nose. I take a fistful of his coat as soon as he closes the door and pull him toward me, pressing a hot, needy kiss against his lips. They’re cold against mine, and a small, satisfied noise escapes him.

Fuck. I’ve missed him.

I didn’t realize how much I’d miss someone when I went on away games, but these last three days have felt like three months. Even with texting and nightly FaceTime calls, nothing beats the feel of his soft lips against mine, and the smell of his grapefruit shampoo.

“Hi,” he whispers as he pulls away.

His cheeks are rosy and pink, and his lips quickly get puffy and swollen from the scruff of my beard.

“Hey!” I grin, rubbing my thumb against his bottom lip. I’m about to lean in to kiss him again, but a car honks, reminding me where I am.

“Why do they always fucking honk their horns at me?”

Alex laughs.

I flip my middle finger at the impatient driver and head back downtown toward my apartment. “How’s your day been?”

Alex rests his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. “Long. I swear the last two weeks of January are insane for birthdays, then it’s the run up to Valentine’s, which always gets crazy because people want to order last-minute stuff…” He opens his eyes and turns to face me. “We’ve had to turn away quite a few people, and Jacob isn’t taking it well.”

I frown. “But there’s only two of you; there’s only so much you can do.”

“I know,” he sighs. “It’s a perk of getting busier, but also a disadvantage when we’re short-staffed. We’re going to look at finances and see if we can hire someone.”

“I get that.”

And I feel kinda bad that a lot of it is because of me, but at the same time, I feel proud of Alex and his brother.

“How does a chill night sound? We’ll get some food delivered and watch a movie?”

“That sounds good to me.”

His smile is tired but still beautiful, and when I stop at a red light, I lean over and steal another kiss. I’ve been desperate to taste him again.

“How was your game in Dallas?” He asks.

“It wasn’t our best. We struggled; it was like we were asleep at the start of the game.”

“I’m sorry. Does losing a game impact team morale a lot?”

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