Page 63 of The Pucker and the Princess
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Mom prompts when I don’t answer immediately. “I know it’s a little last minute, so plane ticket prices are probably high, especially for the holidays, but your dad and I can help out if you need it.”
Sighing, I shake my head and put the phone on speaker. “I’m sure I can swing it, Mom. I make a good salary. And I’ve been building up my savings for a while.” Of course, I wanted to spend it on a European vacation or something, but it’s not like I’ve put actual effort into planning that kind of thing. I’ve been so focused on moving on from Peter, getting promoted within the company, and then getting out of Texas, that taking a vacation hasn’t been on my radar at all. “Plus, I have plenty of time off, so I can take a couple extra days.” I take off my jeans and step into my lounge pants, closing my eyes and knowing I’m probably going to regret this. “I’ll be there. Once I figure out the exact dates that’ll work, I’ll buy a ticket and let you know the details.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy. And seriously, if you want, your Dad and I can help out.”
“I can handle it, Mom. I promise.”
“Okay. Well, if you change your mind …”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
She immediately launches into the logistics of my visit, even though I haven’t even looked at my calendar yet, planning meals and events and letting me know the dates my siblings will be arriving with their families. “Oh, and we’ll definitely hire a photographer. We haven’t had family photos taken in years. With all three of you scattered to the winds, who knows when we’ll get another chance?”
Trying not to let the cringe come through in my voice, I sink onto my couch and pull a blanket over my lap. “Sounds great, Mom. I’ll be sure to pack an outfit that’ll photograph well.”
“Christmas sweaters!” she nearly shouts. “We all need to be in Christmas sweaters. I’ll buy coordinating ones for everyone. Text me your size when we get off the phone.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I miss you, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re coming home.”
I smile at the wistfulness in her voice, even if I don’t a hundred percent share the sentiment. “I miss you too, Mom.” And at least that much is true, even if I’d rather stay here this Christmas.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dozer
I spendthe next five days walking on air. Marissa comes to my next few home games before we go for an away stint, and as much as I hate being away from her, I’m more excited to take the ice than I have been in a long time. Probably since I got drafted to the pros.
The change in my attitude isn’t lost on my teammates, either. “Dude,” Bouchard says, plopping down next to me in the locker room of our last home game before a week of away games. “Whatever’s got you feeling like this? You need to share.”
Nick barks out a laugh as he walks by. “That seems pretty unlikely. Dozer’s not exactly the sharing type, are you, Dozer?”
Grinning, I toss a wadded up sock at him. He catches it deftly and chucks it back. “Gross, man. What makes you think I want your dirty laundry?”
“Ha ha. It’s clean, asshole.”
“I’m glad you clean your asshole!” Nick quips, heading for his section of the locker room.
“That’s not—” I cut myself off when I notice the guys around me cracking up. “My asshole is sparkling, thank you very much.”
“Good to know!” shouts Johnstone from his spot across the room. “Is this what we do before games now? Swap hygiene recommendations? Do you use a bidet to get your asshole that clean, Dozer? Or is there some other secret we should all know?”
Before I can answer, Jenkins pipes up with, “Bidets are where it’s at, man. If you haven’t gotten one yet, what are you even doing with your life?”
The guys on that side of the room fall into a discussion about their feelings about bidets and recommendations for the best ones, and I shake my head, refocusing on changing into my pads.
“Seriously, though,” Bouchard says next to me, pulling on his hockey pants, followed by his sweater. “You’ve been in a good mood lately, and you’ve been playing like you’re defending your mom from being attacked by the hounds of hell. I haven’t seen you go after guys like that since I started playing here. Did you get a new nutritionist or something?”
Chuckling, I pull on my own sweater, then sit down to lace up my skates. “Nah, man. Just … happy.” Straightening, I shrug. “It’s been a good week.”
He studies me for a minute, then a broad grin stretches across his face. “Oooh, I know what’s going on. You got a new hookup. Who is she? One of the new chicks who’s been hanging around this season? Or did you decide Jenny wasn’t so bad after all?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No. I haven’t seen Jenny since we broke up over the summer. No way in hell am I giving a second chance to someone who tried to sell my stuff out from under me for extra cash while moving in without actually asking or even telling me that’s what was happening.”
Bouchard’s eyes widen. “Damn, dude. I didn’t realize it was like that.”
I wave him off. “No worries. It’s in the past. Lesson learned.”
