Page 73 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

Bobby glides closer, never taking his eyes off baby Mei’s face. A baby just smiled at him for the first time. I’ve had a million and one baby smiles, and I cherish each one. I’ve had a marriage. I’ve changed jobs a dozen times. Started a new career. Had a mortgage for fifteen years—reached that halfway point on the thirty-year loan. I’ve raised a human. I’mraisinga human. So that he’ll have confidence and security and freedom to start his life. Matty’s got his whole life ahead of him.

And so does Bobby.

Unless this geriatric ball and chain gets in his way.

Chapter Thirty-One

Bobby

“Hey, Bobby!” Coach waves me over as all of us file out of the locker room after practice.

Cappy gives me a wide eyed look of terror that does nothing to calm the butterflies that kick up whenever Coach singles me out. I haven’t been the recipient of his wrath recently, but you just never know.

“Yes, Coach?” I force my hands to relax by my sides. My instinct is to always bunch them into fists, a habit Ashley clued me into the other day. She told me that I need to retrain my body to not always be ready for a fight. Apparently being in fight-or-flight mode all the time isn’t healthy.

Coach claps me on the shoulder. “You’ve been stepping up lately. I’ve definitely noticed.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ve been trying my hardest to be the kind of teammate the Storm Chasers need.”Please don’t trade me, please don’t trade me.I’ve actually started to build a life here. That crazy list of Kaitlyn’s has turned my life around.

Coach dips his head once. “I’m not going to lie to you. I had some offers to trade you, but if you keep going in this direction, I can toss those offers in the trash.” He claps me on the shoulder again. “Good work, son.” Then he marches down the hallway, leaving me sagging against the wall once he’s out of sight.

I lean my head back and squeeze my eyes shut, doing that deep breathing shit Ashley always tells me to do. Thank fuck he’s not going to trade me. I imagine I’m not entirely out of the woods yet, but it has to be a good sign my head’s not actively on the chopping block. Good thing Molly never found out how close I was to being traded, or she never would have let me put an offer on the house.

When my heart rate comes back down, I head out to my truck, moving on to the next thing in my life that needs to be addressed. Molly. After a final walk-through yesterday, she handed me the keys to my new house. She didn’t have time to celebrate with me since she had one more night with Matthew before he went to his dad’s, so I didn’t bother staying there, either. The house would seem huge and lonely without her with me.

Which is why I have big plans for tonight. Richie actually helped me pack up my things in boxes last week, in exchange for free rein in my refrigerator and pantry. I’m headed back to my apartment now to load up Wolverine with the boxes and then start my night of seduction plan at the new house. Okay, it’s not all that elaborate, but I’ve got a shit ton of candles and blankets to set up in front of the fireplace. Food and champagne is being delivered a bit later, and Richie has strict instructions not to swing by.

As I go through the motions, my brain is spinning. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s bothering me, but there’s definitely something going on with Molly. We still see each other every single day I’m not on the road, and we text back andforth constantly, but there’s been some weird vibe between us. I even caught her studying me at the rink the other day, not in a I-can’t-wait-to-get-that-man-home-and-rip-his-clothes-off kind of way. More like she was studying me...and finding something lacking.

And I don’t fucking like lacking.

If there’s something in her head telling her that I’m not right for her, I want to know what it is so I can set the record straight. I’m most definitely right for her. Or at least she’s right for me. She’s the one I want. Forever. So if I need to change something to be what she wants, she just has to say the word. More counseling, less fighting, more dates, less sex...whatever it is.

Though I do hope it’s not less sex.

I barely have time to find the box of towels that Richie packed with the few picture frames I own. Why he put those together, I’ll never know. But I get a shower and take the time to put on my sexiest funderpants: the speedo pair with the picture of a bright red bow on the crotch. It’s not my normal boxers, but I hope they’ll get a smile out of Molly.

I top the funderpants with a pair of khaki slacks, a deep blue polo that she’s told me in the past she loves, and a spritz of cologne. The food and champagne has been delivered, and fresh red roses sit in two different vases, one on the picnic blankets and the other in my new bedroom. I light every single candle and then wonder if we might have a problem with the smoke alarms when I eventually blow them all out. Too late now, I guess. The doorbell rings and I spin toward it with a huge grin.

The door swings open on well-oiled hinges to show Molly in a sexy pencil skirt and blouse. The heels tell me she came straight from work. I pull her inside, take the heavy purse off her shoulder, and pull her into a kiss.

“Hey, baby,” I murmur against her lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Her hands slide up my chest. “You saw me yesterday.”

I sneak another kiss, my hands already busy feeling up her backside. I can’t help myself when she wears these damn skirts. “Yeah, but I had to sleep alone,” I pout.

Molly doesn’t laugh like she normally would. In fact, she pulls back a bit, like she needs space. Warning bells go off in my head. Feeling a rush of panic, I grab her hand and pull her into the house, walking toward the living room where I have the picnic all set up.

“I have a surprise for you,” I say, turning back around to her when we get to the living room. I catch a look of sadness on her face before her eyes go wide with surprise, taking in the surroundings. Candles flicker from every surface. Red rose petals are scattered over the blankets. Our food is set out under fancy silver domes.

“Oh Bobby,” she whispers, hand going to her mouth. Her eyes go shiny and something in my gut tells me they aren’t good tears.

I tug on her hand, telling myself to calm down and just talk to her. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

Molly swallows hard, staring up at me with eyes gone more brown than green today. She doesn’t seem to have an answer, so I plunge ahead, desperate to make everything okay.

“I want to celebrate this house with you. I want you to be comfortable here with me. You and Matthew both. I envision a lot of happy days and nights with you two here. We can start by getting a huge Christmas tree this weekend. If there’s something bothering you, just tell me. We can work it out.”

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