Page 97 of Unraveling Rain
I step into my closet—a huge walk-in with his and hers sides—and a smile tugs at my mouth. I picture Rain’s clothes hanging opposite mine, a splash of color and chaos against my rigid rows of white, black, and navy.
As I open my suitcase to unpack the clothes I brought back from Azalea Creek, something tucked in the corner catches my eye. Something I didn’t pack.
My smile spreads.
It’s the thong Rain wore last night. Baby blue. Barely there. Tiny lace triangles are connected by two golden rings on the sides. My cock jerks at the memory of her writhing beneath me as I ease it off with my teeth. I lift the lace to my nose and inhale deeply—her scent still on it, warm and musky. I’m already leaking precum.
Fuck. I might have to jerk off before I go to the arena.
I shake off the thought and tuck the thong in a drawer before finishing unpacking. Once I’m done, I throw together a smoothie and head out.
My heart is pumping hard in my chest as I drive to the arena. It’s always been like this. Every time I come back from summer break, I feel like a rookie entering the building for the first time.
Excited, anxious, eager.
This year, though, there’s one more feeling: doubt.
Even though Ruin did a great job giving me the tools to deal with intrusive thoughts, I can’t help but wonder if, once I’m back on the ice, I’ll be able to go through my routine—or if I’ll freeze in place. Whatever happens, I know I need to show Coach and the team that I’m back and ready to win the Cup.
The coaching and health staff are waiting.
“Xander, son. It’s so good to see you,” Coach says as I step into the conference room.
I nod and smile, scanning the room. The assistant coach, team doctor, physiotherapist, and Eric, the general manager, are already seated.
After a round of quick hellos, I take a seat.
Coach starts, “Dr. Gutierrez has been sending us weekly updates on your recovery. He shared how your bone healed to completion and how you’ve regained muscle mass. I need to remain cautiously optimistic, but if you’ve recovered—and have your mind one hundred percent focused on the game—I think the team can dream of big things this season.”
My pulse ticks up, excitement stirring at the idea of a comeback. But his comment about having my mind fully on the game rubs me the wrong way.
I’m not sure what he’s heard about my private life, but I’m not asking permission to date Rain. I’m a grown man, a well-seasoned athlete. I know how to compartmentalize myfeelings. I can give everything I’ve got on the ice and still have a healthy relationship with Rain. In fact, I want both.
“It’s been truly impressive to see you get back on your feet from afar,” Eric pipes up, and I nod, proud of everything I accomplished at Serene Lookout.
“I’m impressed as well. The team of professionals there is incredibly skilled. Even though they had me working every single day, I never felt overwhelmed or overworked. I can’t wait to be back on the ice.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Coach replies. “Today, we’ll have you run through ice practice—no contact. Make sure you wear the vest.”
“Yeah,” the doctor adds, “otherwise I can see the guys trying to prank you, and we don’t want an injury on the first day back.”
I shudder at the thought, but laugh it off.
“I know all this is very exciting,” Eric says. “We want you to thrive. You’re a critical piece of this team.” He leans forward, voice steady. “We still have a few weeks to see how you perform before the season begins. But if you meet our expectations, we may be looking at a very interesting contract expansion.”
Contract expansion.
The words hit like a slapshot to the chest. But in the best way.
“Looking forward to showing you all what Serene Lookout did for me. I can’t wait to crush those expectations,” I say, my voice edged with confidence.
“Very well,” the doctor says, closing his folder. “We’ll run a few performance tests to confirm the recovery data, then you’ll hit the ice.”
“Xander, I’ll meet you at the gym,” the physiotherapist adds.
I nod and shake hands with Eric and the coaches, then make my way to the locker room.
The second I open the door, a sea of voices hits me—shouts, laughter, the rustle of gear. All the guys are here, getting ready for ice practice.
