Page 95 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“Things don’t always work out,” I say roughly. “I know you think they do. You’ve been waiting how long for your lawsuit to make things right? It’s not going to happen.”

Staring back at me, her face crumples.

Ah, shit. I’m an asshole. “I’m not that virtuous, that I can do the right thing and expect it to all be fine. I can’t take that risk. Okay?”

She stands. Gives a tight nod. “Okay.” She walks toward the door.

I grip the duvet in both hands. Is she leaving?

She stops at the door and turns. “You know what my dad told me?”

I frown. “About what?”

“About why he up and left to travel the world all by himself. He told me that we only regret the chances we don’t take. The relationships we’re afraid to have.” Her eyes lock onto mine. “And the decisions we wait too long to make.” She lifts her chin. “He was encouraging me to start my own business. I don’t want to have regrets. I don’t regret what I did at Lexington. I don’t regret starting my own business. And I don’t regret falling in love with you.”

Her words hit me like taking a slap shot in the chest. She’s in love with me?

“Until this moment,” she continues, her voice quivering. “Because I thought I fell in love with a man who’s good and honorable and brave. But now I see you’re really just a coward. I know you’re afraid to do the right thing. And you’re afraid to have a relationship. Because we have something pretty fantastic. But I guess that doesn’t matter to you.”

My chest constricts so tight I can’t breathe. “I’m not afraid.”

“Please. You are. And there’s nothing wrong with that. We’reallafraid, Easton. Being brave isn’t the same as not being afraid. It’s just deciding…something else is more important.” She tilts her head in a way that makes me think of a queen—strong and noble and magnificent. And I feel like I’m not worthy of her. “I wish you luck. If you decide you don’t want me to look after Otis anymore, I’ll understand. Goodbye.”

I don’t move. Otis prances after her. When the apartment door closes, he whines. And I feel like doing that too. Maybe more than whine. Maybe howl. Because I feel like I just had a sharpened skate blade plunged into my heart and twisted.

She’s in love with me.

My vision darkens and narrows to a small circle as I stare across the room. My stomach churns, and it’s not the booze I drank last night.

I should have known better than to get involved with her. I ended up hurting her. Shit.

I fling myself down onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

Shit, damn, fuck.

The last thing I feel like doing is going to practice, but I’ll be in way worse trouble if I don’t show up. When Coach pairs me up on line rushes with Larry and Goose, I know I won’t be playing again tomorrow. The rage inside me burns and eats away at my gut, pushing me to skate faster, shoot harder, even hit harder as I go into a corner in a scrum. I nail Barbie into the boards with a reverberating hit.

He whirls on me, straightening his helmet. “What the fuck was that?”

I stand up to him. “That was a body check.”

He narrows his eyes at me, breathing hard. “I will punch you.” And he drops his fucking mitts.

I’m not backing down. A fight would feel pretty good right now. Barbs is taller than me, but I outweigh him. I throw down my gloves too.

The other guys swarm in and circle us.

“No,” Cookie says, giving me a sharp look, edging me away from Barbie. “What are you doing, man?”

I glide backward on my skates, scowling at Cookie. “Nothing.”

His look is laced with incredulity. “Nothing. Ha. Get your shit together. You’re in enough trouble.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

His eyebrows fly up. “You goddamn better.”

My shoulders slump and my head drops forward. “You’re right. Fuck.” I stop, circle him, and skate over to Barbie. I lay my hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Barbs. That was stupid.”

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