Page 93 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
I shouldn’t care, but disappointment hit me every time I glanced up, out of habit.
How I can go from not noticing her to being so hyperaware of her absence is beyond me.
“So, I’ve been thinking about your mystery woman,” he says almost as soon as the door has closed behind us.
“Please don’t,” I beg.
“Not in that way,” he says. “I’ve got enough of my own to contend with.”
“Christ,” I mutter as I drop my suitcase onto the bed and kick off my shoes. “Don’t you have a date or something?”
“Nope. Thought I’d hang out with my buddy tonight and celebrate our win.”
“Wonderful,” I deadpan.
“We’re meeting the guys downstairs in twenty.”
My lips part to decline the invitation, but then I remember that I’m meant to be embracing spending time with the team.
It’s not a hardship. They’re a great bunch of guys. I just…I’d rather be here alone and maybe, just maybe, scroll through Casey’s Instagram account.
It’s wrong. So fucking wrong. But I made the mistake of typing her name in on Sunday morning when I woke up hard and desperate.
I’m fucking ashamed to admit it, but I found an image of her wearing my jersey last season and I…fuck…I came all over myself while staring at it.
“Anyway,” he says, distracting me from my sinful thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about the guest list that night.”
“Shit. I wouldn’t do that. You’ll pop a blood vessel or something,” I tease.
“Fuck off. I’ve got the smarts.”
“Sure you have,” I laugh as I grab my toiletry bag and lock myself in the bathroom for a few minutes.
I’m not worried about him digging into the guest list. It’s not like he’ll find her name on it.
23
CASEY
“You can work remotely tomorrow afternoon, right?” Parker asks the second I answer her call as I get out of my car on Thursday morning and head for the arena.
In the front office, it’s not always that obvious that the team is away, but I still feel their absence.
The atmosphere is different. It’s stupid, but I’m acutely aware of it.
No one else has ever mentioned it, so I figure I’m just being weird, or that I love the game more than them.
“Uhh…I guess so. Why?” I ask, curious.
“I booked us flights.”
My chest gets all light and hopeful.
Please, please say what I think you’re about to.
“Flights for…”
“Utah, duh.”
