Page 97 of Three Pucking Words
It takes everything in me to move my head toward the figure staring between Bodhi and me. At the sight of my father, I try taking a step back. But Bodhi’s grip on me tightens to keep me in place, unashamed of the position we’ve been caught in.
All Bodhi says to my father is, “Sorry about the game, Coach. We’ll be better next time.”
My father looks at him, then me, and claps Bodhi’s shoulder. I notice the tiniest wince from the hockey player holding me as my father’s fingers tighten around Bodhi’s collarbone. He was slammed into the boards at least three times tonight, so he must be sore. “Me too, son. Next time.”
That’s all he says before patting his right wing’s back and walking away.
I blink. “That was…”
Bodhi nods. “Anticlimactic.” He watches his coach leave before turning back to me. “So about tonight…”
He’s not phased at all over my father seeing us be so…intimate. It puts me at ease. Relieves the anxiety that settles into the bottom of my stomach.
He’s waiting for an answer.
And I give him the first one that comes to mind. “Let’s go get Gemma.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bodhi
Gemma falls asleepusing Honor’s lap as a pillow after telling her all about her dreams to become the next Princess of Genovia, whatever the hell that means. I told myself I’d have to figure out where that is on the map and why my six, soon to be seven-year-old, wants to rule it.
It takes no time at all to settle Gemma in for the night, changing her into pajamas and tucking her next to her current favorite stuffy, Jordan the giraffe. It’s neon green with purple spots, like some sort of alien creature.
I can tell when I come downstairs that there’s something on Honor’s mind. She’d gotten antsier as the night went on, and I didn’t want her to regret coming. It’s hard to delve into why she might feel that way when there’s a child droning on about royal families and asking why we’re not one of them because she doesn’t understand how monarchies work.
When I come into the room, Honor is settled cross-legged on the couch typing furiously on her phone. I don’t ask who she’s talking to when I bring in two glasses of water and set one on the table in front of her.
“Is everything all right?” I sit in the chair across from her no matter how badly I want to take the spot beside her on the couch.
She turns her phone screen off and tucks her cell under her leg. “Is Gemma asleep?”
Deflection. “She’s probably dreaming about unicorns and kittens as we speak.”
Honor’s cheek twitches. “Seems more likely that she’d be dreaming about unicorns and puppies,” she comments with a smile. “Both would be wearing tierras. Possibly tutus. And I have a feeling the dog’s name would be Puck.”
I huff out a laugh. “You’re probably right.”
We’re quiet. I watch her fiddle with her glass, staring into it like she’s deep in thought.
“What’s going on, honey?” I ask her softly, wanting nothing more than to break into her head.
She shifts in her seat, silently nibbling on her bottom lip. “Nothing, I…” Her words fade, and she shakes her head.
It’s not nothing.
“If being here makes you uncomfortable—”
“No!” she says quickly, eyes widening. Her cheeks flame. “No. It isn’t that. I’m not uncomfortable. I just… I…” Her loss for words has me both amused and curious.
I set my water down on the table and slide back into the chair. “I like you in my space, Honor. It feels like I’ve known you for a long time now. You’re…familiar. Comfortable. I like watching my daughter adore you. I like watching you two play together. And I really,reallylike the way you look atmewhile I watchyou.”
She’s gaping at me now, the red in her cheeks deepening.
“But do you know what I like more than that?” I add, keeping her gaze. “It’s knowing that you were willing to go out and fight for me at the game. That…”
I have no shame admitting how hard I am remembering how angry she was for me, but I keep that piece to myself. When was the last time someone other than one of the guys was pissed off by a play? When was the last time someone defended me who wasn’t a stranger online?
