Page 98 of Three Pucking Words
This may be a first.
“I’m not going to lie. That was hot,” I finish, shrugging casually. I give no heed to the semi in my pants while thinking about her jabbing a finger at the ref or yelling from the sidelines as I went to the sin bin.
Honor closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and I wonder if I’m crossing an invisible line. Right before I’m able to ask what she’s thinking, she says, “There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve tried telling you before, but we were interrupted. And it’s…”
It sounds serious, putting me on high alert. Is she still married to that douchebag? Did he somehow contest the divorce out of pettiness? Is it about her health?
“Are you okay? Did you hear from your doctor about that surgery she brought up a few months ago?” It’s none of my business, but I know how much it upset her to hear. She’d sat in that very spot and cried about it only hours after it had happened.
Honor, thankfully, shakes her head. “No. It’s nothing like that. I wasn’t even going to bring it up at all, but I think you should know. Because I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. Or some other night. And if relationships are built on honesty, then I need to be honest.”
Now she’s starting to worry me. “Okay.”
I give her the time she needs to process whatever it is she’s about to divulge. I’m not sure what I expect in the silence that stretches. It’s clear her stress is enough to make Puck stand and trot over to her, sitting beside her legs in comfort.
Honor releases a breath and opens her eyes to finally look at me. “We’ve met before.Talkedbefore. Joked. Told each other things about ourselves that we haven’t told anybody else.”
It’s me gaping at her now, confused. That can’t be true, can it? I would have remembered someone like her. “Are you sure you’re not mistaking me for someone else?”
I feel like a jackass asking, especially when her stare becomes dubious. “I’m not an idiot, Bodhi. I mean, I didn’t know who you were right away. It wasn’t until someone came up to you at the bar and asked for a photo that you admitted you played hockey. That was a couple hours into us talking. You really don’t remember, do you?”
A bar.That doesn’t narrow it down any. I may not go out that much these days, but I was a regular anywhere that served alcohol before Gemma came into my life. From the time I joined the NHL as a rookie until the last few years, I’d partied hard with just about anybody. Not that I like to admit it, but I definitely had some black-out moments I like to pretend never happened. That was back when tequila was my best friend rather than Henderson. If it hadn’t been for him I’d probably still be living at the bottom of a liquor bottle.
But I would have remembered her. Right? I would have recognized her.Feltsomething.
You did, jackass.
From the day I saw her at the aquarium, my gut told me I knew her. But I waved it off and thought it was exhaustion talking. I had millions of other things going through my mind, so I wrote it off.
Honor stares into her lap. “You don’t,” she answers herself.
I palm my face as I try dredging up old memories that aren’t there. I’m an ass. “Why didn’t you say something sooner, Honor?”
She frowns, fussing over Puck. It’s her tell that she’s nervous. She pets his head, combing her fingers through his thick fur and pulling a piece of fuzz from him. “I guess I was a little embarrassed that you didn’t remember. I knew you were drunk, but I didn’t think you werethatdrunk. And then I was hurt, because…”
Honor grows quiet, closing her eyes again and inhaling a long, deep breath. “Because I realized how forgettable I was to you. And I know that sounds stupid, but that night was the first night that I actuallylaughedin I don’t know how long.”
Her frown deepens with her explanation, and I want nothing more than to make it go away.
Puck rests his chin on her legs when she stops petting him, so she continues to stroke her fingers over his head while releasing another short breath. “I went to the bar while Max was out with his buddies watching the game at a different pub. Our marriage wasn’t great. We didn’t fight but we didn’tnotfight. He was always gone for work. Trying to get investors. Trying to get me to talk to my dad about investing. And because I’m an idiot, and I thought it would somehow save our marriage, I eventually agreed. But before that point, I truly thought it was over with us. He stopped trying to have conversations with me. Stopped asking about my day or what I did or how work was. He never asked how I was feeling or wanted to talk about our future. It was always about him and his game and whathewanted.”
Her throat bobs with a thick swallow, and I’m suddenly mad I didn’t throw a punch at this dickwad while I had the chance.
“Talking to you was the first time I felt seen and heard and…” She wets her lips, peeking up at me through her lashes. “It felt good to have someone talk to me without cutting me off. Someone who seemed interested enough to hear what I had to say. To listen to my advice. You didn’t owe me anything. I didn’t owe you anything. But that night made such a huge difference in my life. I finally felt human again.”
If this was during their marriage when he was still developing his game, that means they were living in Chicago. Which means I would have had to of been in the windy city for a game. And I definitely went to plenty of bars when I travelled back then.
“Did you go to the bar to…?” I leave the question unfinished, feeling like a prick for asking something so personal. “I’m not judging you. People seek attention when things are bad all the time. It wouldn’t the first—”
“No,” she says in a choked tone. “No, I’m not a cheater. I’ve never…” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “The bar was the closest one to our house. I used to go there for a glass of wine once in a while. One of my neighbors was supposed to meet me, but her son got sick at the last minute. I was already there, so I decided to stay and try enjoying myself since Max wasn’t going to be home for hours. I never thought anybody would approach me, much less…you.”
I believe her, despite my lack of memories. Which makes me feel like a bigger tool. If this night was so special to her, why the fuck did I let it slip my mind? “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, honey.”
She shrugs. “It’s a fair assumption. I never told you I was married that night. I didn’t have a ring at the time, either. Max said he wanted to get me a nice one when his game launched. I might as well have been there to flirt. To hook up with someone.”
I swallow. “And we didn’t…?”
If she says yes, I’m never going to forgive myself for forgetting something as poignant as that. How long have I been dreaming of sinking between her thighs? If I already did, it’s going to crush me.
