Page 93 of In the Net
SEBASTIAN
My head isn’t in this game.
I tried to pass the puck to Kiran without even realizing a Lakeview College defender was barreling down the ice right between us. He easily scooped away the puck with his stick while it was sailing across the ice.
An embarrassingly amateur mistake, and not the only one of those I’ve made tonight.
Luckily, Felix bails me out, catching the puck in his glove when the player who stole it fires it at our net.
Coach Torres calls for a shift change. After I hop over the railing and drop my weight onto the bench, Coach turns to me with his hands propped on his hips.
“Lawrence,” he shakes his head while uttering my name, not even angry, but exasperated in a way that makes me feel even worse. “Where the hell’s your head at, son? Because it doesn’t seem to be on the ice where it should be.”
He’s right about that. My head isn’t on the ice. My head isn’t even in this arena, where we’re playing an away game. My head isn’t even in this state.
As a matter of fact, it’s split between two different states.
Part of it is back in Cedar Shade. Ever since that night at Harper’s place, all our defenses have crumbled, and we’ve been hooking up almost every day in the week since.
It’s been fucking incredible. Even if I had nothing else to preoccupy me, it would be hard enough focusing on anything else, even hockey, as long as the memories of raking my hands over her naked body and sinking into the warmth between her thighs were constantly at the top of my mind.
But that’s not the thing that really has me so mentally removed from my responsibilities as a team veteran right now.
That’s the other state my mind is in: Connecticut, where Harper and I will be traveling for her cousin’s wedding in exactly one week.
That’s the end date for this arrangement. The only reason we started this charade in the first place, this charade that’s feeling less and less fake with each passing day. That’s been feeling less and less fake for a long damn time now.
The wedding is the finish line. That fact has me dreading it so much that I can’t even look forward to seeing Harper in that green dress again, which is saying something.
I don’t even know how long it’s been since I’ve felt this way, but it’s been a while. It’s time to finally stop just feeling it, and actually admit it to myself: I’m not ready for what Harper and I have to end.
I have no idea how she feels about it, though. And if I bring it up to her before the wedding, and we’re not on the same page, it could ruin the event that we’ve been doing all this for in the first place.
“Lawrence!” Coach’s roar pulls me back to reality. “Get off your ass and on the ice!”
I shake my head and try to pull it together. Shit, I’ve been so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even hear Coach order the first line back on the ice.
I hop over the barricade and back into play. Determination pulses through me to make up for how pathetic my performance has been today.
I go after the puck hard. Eventually, I body check a Lakeview defender controlling the puck behind their net, and I come away with it. I wrap around and flick the blade of my stick, sending the puck sneaking above the goalie’s near shoulder.
A feeling of triumph flickers in my chest. It awakens my competitive nature, sharpening my determination.
I didn’t give up on this game, despite the rocky start. Because I don’t give up, period.
I’m not giving up on Harper, either.
Until this wedding is over, I need to bide my time. I don’t want to blindside her and risk making it harder for her to pull off our act around her family.
But once we’re back? It’s game on.
39
HARPER
Sophia’s wedding reception is every bit as beautiful as I expected.
The space is immaculate with gorgeous tiled floors, ornate carved wood chairs with luxurious cushions placed in front of tables with crisp cream-colored tablecloths, hanging chandeliers giving off golden light, and a wall of French doors leading to a stone balcony with a breathtaking river view.
