Page 141 of Unravel Me

“It’s October third.”

A collective groan fills the dressing room, while Carter whoops his fist through the air, his phone pointed at me. “Nailed it!”

I look to Jaxon. “Did I just do theMean Girlsthing?”

“You just became Cady Heron, dude.”

“Fuck.”

Truthfully, I wish I was as relaxed as Carter right now. I’m worked up, and I have been most of the day. With our morning skate and a team meeting earlier, I haven’t had the chance to talk to Rosie since I dropped her and Connor off after breakfast. I swallowed the question on my tongue right along with my coffee, and fifteen damn times I typed it out, asking her if she wanted to come to the game tonight, letting her know I’d bought two tickets for them. Instead, I chickened out every damn time, scared she’d say no, that it was too much, too fast. I wouldn’t blame her, but I gotta tell you: I’m done with slow.

I’m so damnstarvedfor her, the hollow ache inside me begs me to have my fill.

It took everything in me not to sink my fingers inside her soaked pussy last night, not to yank her to the edge of my kitchen counter and remind us both how well she takes my cock. I want to feel her mouth move against mine, feel the way her hips lift and roll, chasing my every movement. I want her fingers in my hair and my name on her lips, and I want it forever.

But more than that, I want her to know how I feel about her.

How utterly devoted I am to her.

How mind-blowingly in love with her I am.

My body has had hers, and fuck, it wants her again and again. But I can do slow. I can stave off the desire, so long as I get her heart.

My phone dings in my cubby, and I pull it out, grinning at the name peeking up at me.

Trouble

Have the best time tonight, Adam. You’ll be incredible! So big and flexible.

Her message gives me the courage I need to face the two empty seats behind the bench, and as we make our way to the players tunnel, I’m focusing on getting in the zone.

Fog fills the tunnel from the machine up ahead, and the lights in the arena go out, ear-splitting cheers filling the rink as I shake out my nerves, my goalie mask propped on the top of my head. Green and blue spotlights shine on the rink, and Carter goes from goofball to captain in a split second.

“Here we go, boys! Who owns this fucking rink?”

“Vipers!”

“Who works harder than us?”

“No one!”

“And who’s taking the win home tonight?”

“We are!”

“Damn right we are, boys! Get your asses out there and show ’em who we are!”

The music starts, and the announcer comes over the speakers, introducing each player as they step onto the ice, until only me and Carter are left.

Carter grabs my head, bringing my forehead to his. “You fucking got this, bud.” He claps a hand to my ass as his name is called and skates onto the ice as the arena explodes.

“And finally, ladies and gentlemen, on your feet for our pride and joy, number forty, Vancouver Vipers’ Adaaammm Lockwoooood!”

I step onto the ice, raising my stick in the air as my chanted name drowns out the music. It’s a surreal feeling, looking into this sea of blue and green, people here just to cheer you on. It’s what I love about hockey, the way everyone shows up for each other, stands by your side, believes in you. It’s addictive, the support, all the love, but still, as the lights come back on for our warm-up, I keep my eyes off the bench.

Far too many games, I looked right there, the spot just behind it, and I saw my teammates’ wives, girlfriends, families. And in the middle of all that love was an empty seat Courtney didn’t bother to fill, an excuse she didn’t bother to give me. Like a fool, I kept buying that same damn ticket every game.

It’s my fault, I know. I didn’t even give Rosie the chance to come tonight. And yet I can’t look, because I can’t bear the thought of associating the painful memories of that empty seat with someone as kindhearted as Rosie. She deserves more than that.

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