Page 22 of Wake Me Up
Bringing my hand to my face, I wipe my eyes as the tears well up. Turning toward him, I try to keep it together. “Thank you for telling me. I’m glad my son feels comfortable talking to you.”
When his hand reaches for me and he pats my shoulder, I can’t help but flinch when the sensation of a million electric shocks hit my body, instantly making him pull his hand away, and I can tell he feels like he did something wrong.
He didn’t. It was me and my messed-up brain and my weird little crush I have on this man who is one thousand percent out of my league—even if I was available.
He’s clearly uncomfortable because of my response, making me feel like a jerk, but he brushes it off quickly and nods. “He’s a good kid, Freya. You’ve done well.”
“Thank you,” I whisper just as Cash skates to the entrance beside us, making us look away from each other and toward him.
It’s like I’m playing with fire, but I’m not actually doing anything wrong. But the way my body reacted to the simple pat on my shoulder shows just how careful I need to be. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about anyone other than my husband, and yet … I’ve caught myself thinking about the man beside me more than once.
“Hey, bud!” I say, plastering on the worriless smile I’ve mastered so well. “You looked great out there.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he says with a grin and steps off the ice, walking to the bench and plopping down. “Did you see? Walker James even worked with me.”
“I sure did.” I smile. “How awesome was that?”
“What am I, second choice?” Tripp says grumpily, but I know he means it in a playful way. And when Walker skates beside us, Tripp jerks his chinup at him. “Oh, sure, you come in for ten minutes, and suddenly, you’re the favorite.”
Walker shrugs, smirking at him. “What can I say? Kids actually like me. I’m cool, and I sometimes even like to smile.” He looks over at me. “You’ve got a great kid.”
“Thanks.” I blush because this man, like so many of the other Sharks, is painfully attractive. “I think he’s pretty awesome.”
Walker says goodbye to all of us before taking off toward the other exit, and I walk over toward Cash. As he takes his skates and gear off, I begin to pack up his duffel bag.
Pulling his sneakers on, he stands and takes the few steps toward Tripp. “Thanks, Tripp.”
They do some weird handshake thing, and Cash turns toward me to leave, but before we head up the steps, Tripp stops us.
“Friday night, we’ve got a home game against the Bruins. It should be a good game, and I just so happen to have six tickets I need to give away.” He looks a little nervous, but brushes it off with a shrug. “In case you and a few others want to come watch. It’s okay if not. I just figured—”
“Can we go, Mom?” Cash shamelessly blurts out before I have time to think of an excuse as to why we can’t go. “We’re supposed to go to dinner with Mimi and Papa on Friday. And there are six tickets, so they could go too!”
My mind spins as I try to think of what the hell I’m going to say without looking like an asshole. I can’t imagine what I’d tell my parents about this random hockey player—who has gone to dinner with us and even come to one of Cash’s games—now inviting us to watch him play.
I know it’s harmless, but my mom knows me better than anyone. What if she senses that I have a little crush on Tripp Talmage, and then she thinks I’m ready to move on? She’s brought it up a few times—that I should get out there again—and it’s always ended in me storming off. I love her, but I don’t want her to think she’s right. I’m not ready to move on.
This crush … it’s mild—barely there, in fact. Completely harmless, I’m sure. I just think he’s hot. That’s it. But still, he makes me feel things that I know I shouldn’t be feeling.
And so does a good percentage of the country. Because he’s a famous athlete!
“Mom?” Cash says, interrupting my trance—thankfully. “You good?”
I give my head a slight shake to wake myself up and look around. “I’m fine. Let’s get going, Cash,” I say, nodding quickly. “We’ll let you know, okay?” I tell Tripp. “Thank you, Tripp. For the lesson.”
Cash looks bummed, glancing around me at Tripp, but eventually, he sighs and starts up the stairs. I know I can’t pass up an opportunity like this game for my kids, but something in my gut is telling me that we’re all spending too much time around this man. It’s starting to feel … wrong.
We rush up the stairs, and I can feel his eyes melting into my back. I know I left too abruptly and that it was rude, but, goddammit, Tripp had put me on the spot with those tickets.
It’s a kind gesture, and I’m sure it’s harmless. It just … doesn’t feel right that I’m allowing my son to look at another man like he hung the moon. A man who isn’t his dad.
Once we get out the doors, Cash looks over at me. I expect him to be upset or to at least seem bummed that I didn’t say yes to the game.
Instead, he pats my arm. “Are you okay, Mom? You seemed kinda nervous in there.”
My steps slow until I’m completely stopped, and I look at my son.
“How the heck did I get so fortunate with you, kid?” I say, shaking my head. “I figured you’d be mad at me for not saying yes to Tripp. Instead, you’re making sure I’m okay.”
