Page 62 of Breakout
Clay comes next. He does the same thing as Kellan, only he mouths “I love you” to Grace, waiting for her to do it back before he skates off.
Then Brett comes out. He waves wildly at us, pumping the crowd up.
Wyatt is next, looking all broody as normal. It’s got to be a goalie thing because I’ve never seen one who didn’t look like he was attending a funeral. Wyatt does look over at us, though, waving when he sees we are looking.
I let out a sigh without realizing it when I see Beckett. He looks sexy as hell in his uniform. I know he is wearing all kinds of gear, but there’s something so manly about the sport. It has my libido going.
I regret not getting his jersey. I think about the fun, sexy times we could have if I had one. Maybe he would let me borrow one of his.
Beckett skates around, coming to a stop beside Wyatt. Wyatt says something to him before he turns suddenly, his eyes locking on me. He looks shocked, so I give him a little shrug.
He twirls his finger, indicating I should turn. My heart hurts when I realize why.
He wants to see his name on my back. It’s not there, though.
I shake my head no, making him give me a stern look and do it again.
“I think he wants to see whose jersey you are wearing,” Cora says to me.
Holding my hair up, I turn and show him the same blank jersey as always. When I turn back, he looks mad.
I should have listened to Cora and got the jersey. The money doesn’t matter. Not in the grand scheme of things.
He points to the side one time and then skates off the ice.
Grace and Peyton look at me in shock.
“Why is he so upset?” Grace asks.
“He gave her his family ticket. Maybe he was hoping she would wear his?” Cora guesses.
I don’t answer either of them. Instead, I say, “I’ll be right back.” Then I hustle out of the seats and down to where the players’ locker room is.
“Ma’am, you can’t be back here,” a security guard says.
“I, um.” I’m not even sure what to say right now.
“It’s okay, Ronnie. She’s with me,” Beckett says, walking over to us, still in his skates with the blade guards on them.
“Coach won’t be happy,” Ronnie tells him.
“I’ll handle it. Thanks, man.”
Beckett grabs my hand, leading me into the locker room. Thankfully, it’s empty at the moment.
“Why aren’t you in my jersey?” he growls, pushing me against the wall.
I tell him the same lie I told Cora. “It costs money.”
His anger fades as he nods. “Take it off.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
His hands reach down to the hem of my jersey as he peels it off, leaving me in my bra.
“I want you in my name,” he says.
