Page 119 of Trade Deadline

“Plus, seeing you and Blaine together… This is going to give me the chance to have that for myself. I’ve put dating to the back of my mind, throwing myself into work, but I wanna meet someone. I wanna have what you and Blaine have.” His smile is sad. “I know it took me a while to warm up to him, but I’m so happy you’ve found someone who worships the ground you walk on. Those guys from college weren’t worthy of you, they didn’t appreciate what an incredible person you are, but Blaine… I think he’d walk through fire just to tell you he loved you.”

I look down at my feet, trying to hide my heated cheeks because he’s right about Blaine, but he can’t just distract me from the bombshell he’s just dropped on me.

“So, you and Ethan, huh? Since when did you start talking?”

Jacob picks up a napkin and begins to fold it over several times, his teeth buried into his bottom lip. “He came in after the event and we’ve been texting a little here and there.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He glares. “We’re just friends.”

“Sure.” I smirk. “And suddenly it coincides with you being ready to date again?”

He hides his face in his hands, but not before I catch his grin.

Thirty-Seven

Blaine

Alex’ssoft snores are soothing compared to the chaotic mess running through my mind. A whirlwind of emotions rattle in my chest as I scroll through the pits of social media. Endless gossip and people talking nonsense, but there’s something in my gut telling me to keep going.

Scroll.

Refresh.

Scroll.

Refresh.

I don’t usually give social media the time of day, aside from the occasional post on Instagram when Colleen reminds me to be more active, and don’t get me wrong, social media can be incredible, but damn, people can be assholes. They’ll happily tear into you without a single thought.

They don’t care that you might be having an off day, or what struggles you might be facing mentally that can affect your game.

They don’t care that you worked on those drills for seventeen hundred hours—you bounce the puck off the post once and suddenly you’re a shit player.

They’re just sitting in their armchairs, berating hockey players, and most of the time they’ve never picked up a stick and stepped foot on the ice themselves.

So I stay away from it.

But today, there’s something in the force telling me that I need to keep scrolling.

Alex rolls onto his side. His lips part, and I can feel his warm puffs of breath against my bicep. He looks so peaceful—the complete opposite of what I’m feeling inside.

Just put the damn phone down.

I curse at my internal thoughts. I want to, I really do, but as I argue with myself, I refresh my feed again, and my heart plummets into my stomach when a tweet catches my eye.

Posted three minutes ago.

@TheWarrenPost: BREAKING NEWS just in from Chicago Thunder!! Blaine Olsen has been traded to Buffalo, and Chicago receives Jackson Wilde #ByeByeOlsen

I feelsick to my stomach. I drop my phone into my lap, closing my eyes, and hit my head back against the headboard. Sweat beads at my temples, my hands tremble, and my heart is beating so hard it could crack a rib.

Shit.

This can’t be happening.

I thought I’d done everything right; I cleaned up my act and kept my name off the blogs. I’ve been fucking stellar on the ice, and even done something I never in a million years would have ever expected to happen. I fell in fuckinglove.

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