Page 163 of Rewind It Back

Once the lighting lifts again, I watch as Rio drops his helmet and gloves off at the bench before slowly skating along the length of the rink closest to us, eyes up in our general direction. I note the moment he spots Zanders’ box, and more specifically, me, because his face lights up with a beaming smile in a way I feel possessive over. In a way I’ve only seen directed at me.

Rio lifts his stick in the air, pointing it in my direction, then tucks it under his arm to form his hands into a heart. And I don’t miss the way he lets one thumb overlap past the other to create a little extra piece, not letting it connect where it should.

Too many people sitting in the section below us turn over their shoulders to see who he’s pointing at. My cheeks are most likely flaming right now as I shake my head at him, but I also can’t fight the stupidly giddy smile on my lips.

This man has no shame, acting like a love-sick idiot on the ice with twenty thousand fans watching him.

But I’m a love-sick idiot too, so I somewhat discreetly make the same heart,ourheart, with my hands for him to see.

That smile on his lips only grows before he skates back to the bench, grabs his gloves and helmet, and refocuses on warming up.

“That boy is so in love with you,” Indy states.

Spoken or unspoken, I feel the exact same way.

Chapter 37

Rio

Whiskey in hand, I sink into the hot tub, making sure to align my body with the jets. We just got home from a two-game road trip where both of them went into overtime, and thanks to the added minutes on the ice, my body is aching.

It always does around this time of the year, though. We’re at the mid-point of the season with games, practice, or travel happening almost daily.

So even though I should probably be getting some sleep, seeing as it’s close to two in the morning, I know it’ll be a futile attempt until Hallie gets home from her shift at the bar. She was cleaning up to get out of there around the time our plane landed, so Zee dropped me off at home to wait for her here.

With one arm spread wide on the ledge of the hot tub, I grab my whiskey and take a long pull, letting the liquid burn as it goes down.

I fucking need it.

I called my mom today and tried for what felt like the hundredth time to explain Hallie’s side of things. She wouldn’t even let me get past her name. I understand she has so much resentment built up towards my dad and the whole situation in general, but she’s taking her anger out on the wrong person.

Same as I did.

If she heard Hallie’s side of things and saw the big picture, she’d be a lot more gracious and understanding. I know she would be. But I don’t think she wants to understand anything when it comes to my dad’s affair.

They’re the two most important women in my life, and it’s stressing me the fuck out.

It’s not like Hallie is asking me to choose between them. Shit, she doesn’t even know how bad it’s been between me and my mom lately. But if there ever comes a time that I need to choose which relationship to keep safe, I won’t make the same mistake twice.

I’ll choose Hallie every time. I just hope my own mother doesn’t put me in that situation.

And then there’s Boston.

Because yeah, I think that’s happening.

My agent got quite the insight during our last home game. Boston’s front office is making way for me to join their lineup. Which is my dream. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

But there’s another part of me that doesn’t quite believe that anymore. Because I recently got everything I’ve ever wanted, and those dreams are wrapped up in one single person, not in a career achievement.

Fuck me. I’m exhausted.

I’ve been on this endless loop of what-ifs whenever it’s quiet and I’m forced to think. My brain hasn’t stopped spinning since I was home last, so I take a long swallow of my whiskey and hope that’ll be enough to quiet things until Hallie gets here.

The steam billows around me as the jets go to work on my sore and aching muscles. I sink into the water, trying to tune it all out for a moment, when a flash of headlights bounces off my back fence, the way it does whenever someone turns down our street, and I instantly know it’s her.

By the sounds of it, Hallie pulls into my driveway and parks my truck there.

I hate that she gets home this late. I hate that she’s working a second job, but even more, I fucking hate the reason why.

---