Page 31 of Stick Play

“That’s my room, Dad.”

“Oh right.”

“She can stay across the hall.” I glance at Gina. “Is that okay? It’s a king-sized bed. We can put the kids all together in the room beside yours. It also has a king-sized bed. Plenty of room for all three.”

She gives me a warm smile, a bit of worry from earlier dissipating from her eyes. “They’d like that.”

I jerk my thumb out, toward the hall. “How about you give me a hand to find some clothes? Dad, are you okay for now?”

He can’t seem to hide his big smile, and while that convinces me more and more that he might be faking, it also gives me a measure of relief.

Gina tucks Dad in, then follows me into the hall and I point to my room. “I’m right here.” We walk into my bedroom, and I note the way her steps slow to take it all in. Not that there is much to take in. I have a bed and a dresser. It lacks the warmth of her house, but I don’t have anyone to impress.

“Such a big room,” she finally says.

I pull open my closet. “I have some old sweats and shirts. We can cut them down for the kids.”

She laughs. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes.”

I pull out a gray pair of sweats and hold them up. “These might work for you.” I toss them to her, and she examines them.

“I can work with these.”

I pull more sweats out, and throw them on the bed. “I don’t wear these anymore. The kids might have fun cutting them up.”

She grins. “They’d probably like that.”

“I also have some very old jerseys from when I was younger.” I pull out the smallest ones I can find. “These could work.”

Gina frowns and folds the sweats. “Are you sure? They don’t have value to you?”

“This was before the NHL. Earlier in my career. I just never toss anything. I should probably go through this closet and donate things.”

“You could probably do a raffle and make money.” She sits on the edge of my bed, and as she makes herself comfortable, my damn dick twitches. Fuck, I suddenly can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to see her between my sheets, with me between her legs. Fuck. “It’d be a great donation for peewee hockey. I know you give a lot of your time to that.”

I cock my head and eye her, working to get my mind off sex, although that’s a difficult task with her in my room, the memories of what we did in her kitchen, twice, racing around my lust-rattled brain. “How do you know about peewee hockey? You’ve been checking up on me.”

“How can I?” She throws her hands up in defeat. “You don’t have any social media.”

My throat tightens. She’s right. I don’t. I got rid of all my personal accounts after my ex dragged my name through the mud. So many horrific comments on my posts. I couldn’t fucking take that, so I deleted everything.

“Ash?”

“Yeah.”

“Everything okay?”

“I’m good. Just uh, I hate social media.”

“Honestly, I do too. I have accounts for the café, but don’t post on my personal ones anymore. I don’t want people knowing my business.”

“But you did try to check mine?” I tease.

“A girl can be curious.”

I push all thoughts of my ex to the back of my mind as I laugh and reach into the closet to pull out a sweatshirt for Gina. “How is this for you?”

She walks over to me, and takes it. “It’s perfect for right now, but it might be too warm to sleep in. Do you have a T-shirt I could borrow?”

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