Page 83 of Trouble in Love
“Hey, five years is a lot when you’re over thirty.”
“Ha, my wife would agree. She thinks I don’t know she’s almost thirty-two.”
“Let her keep that delusion. Having you as her secret boy toy is her own little thrill.”
“Pretty sure she’s my big thrill.”
“Oh my god, you are so in love,” she sing-songed as she patted the top of my foot, the universal signal for skates on. “Are you planning a family? She might be ready to go if she’s over thirty.”
As I laced my boot I looked out over the ice, picturing Polly and me on the ice with a little dude, or princess, in hockey gear, skating between us and holding our hands. “Nothing would make me happier than a pregnant Polly, but there’s no rush. I’m happy to go at her pace … and I’m excited to keep practicing.”
“I hear it makes perfect.”
“Yeah, I hear that too.”
With a giggle and slight blush to her cheeks, Tori stood and handed me my helmet. “You have the official all clear. Once the suspension is done, and whenever Coach says you’re ready for full game time, I say you’re fit. Get back out there, kid.”
A handful of wives and girlfriends had just arrived for our first official team lunch of the season and were waiting rink side. Polly, flanked by Tilly and several others, stood on one side. A very pregnant Clara stood alone on the other.
Absolutely showing off, I sailed past Polly backwards on one foot, daydreaming about taking her to see our new house later that day. My lapse in concentration gave Brookes the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He came out of nowhere, hisshoulder slamming into my jaw, sending both of us hurtling into the board with a force and grunt that told me exactly how much he wanted it to hurt. Whistles blew and players scrambled to separate us before there were any repeats of the last time we came to blows. It was clear by the barrage ofwhat the fucks, andchill dudes, that no one was impressed with Dallas’s efforts to intimidate me, but one voice stood out amongst all the others.
“You knob!” Polly yelled while leaning over the bench she was being pinned to by a laughing Tilly.
“Control your, bitch, D’Cruz.” Spat Dallas, “Or do I have to be in charge of this one, too?”
Ten guys might have been between us, but I was there, right in his face before he could blink. It was a good thing that Rory was quicker.
“It’s not worth it, Luca. It’s not worth shit.” His words might have been meant for me, but the vitriolic stare was aimed solely at Brookes.
“D’Cruz, hit the showers,” demanded Coach Brown from the bench.
“Me?” I whined, “What did I do? It was his fault. I didn’t do shit! Why are you riding my ass?”
“Glad to see you haven’t matured at all, numbnuts. I would have missed your piss-weak bitching.”
I’d like to say I proved him wrong by cruising up to the bench and casually headed to the rooms, but I didn’t. I skated full steam toward him, jumped onto the rubber carpet and tossed my stick at his feet. “Why am I getting sent off when he’s the one—”
“You’ve proved yourself for one day. The whole team is impressed.”
“But—”
“But nothing.” He barked, onion relish he favored on his lunch adding extra punch to his tone. “Keep your head down andput the same effort each day and you’ll be looking at the first line for our game against the B’s. And if you’re not sure how to act like the bigger person …” Brown’s baritone paused as his giant hands—the same ones that scored record-high goals year after year—grasped my shoulders and spun me toward the arena. “Take a few pointers from your wife.”
Holy shit.Directly opposite me was Polly.Polly was talking to Clara. Hugging Clara. Leading Clara by the hand to join the rest of the women—the women she hardly knew but had clearly won over despite her insistence she was unlikable. Tears that stung my eyes and had me drooping my head refused to stay where they were told and rushed down my cheeks.How the hell did I get so lucky?
“For Christ’s sake, D’Cruz.” Brown tutted before spinning me back around: “Hit the showers before you make me cry, too.”
My heart thundered in my chest as I shuffled down the chute towards the rooms, watching Polly smile and laugh and wave to me as she disappeared from view.
After stripping off I hit the showers, the heavy stream of hot water joining my tears as I stood under the spray. Unlike the stink and sweat so easily washed from my body, the image of Polly and Clara could never be scrubbed from my mind. What had she said? Why had she hugged her? Why was she so awesome? Why was I, as she would say, such a bloody sook?
“Luca.”
“Pol?”
Before I could turn, the door of my stall was open and shut and Polly was on her knees. My instantly hard cock was in her hand and her tongue was darting out, sliding over the tip in circles that had my head spinning.
“Someone will—”
