Page 75 of Forecasting the Forward

“Wait, can we talk —” I begin, but Becca has already ended the call.

It’s at that moment I realize what I said.

“Fuuuuuck,” I groan miserably. “You dumb fucking idiot.”

I told her I love her.

After we essentially had phone sex, and she’s talking about bank accounts and paying rent, I drop the love bomb on her.

Excellent timing, Jax.

What should I do now? Text her that it was a slip of the tongue, that I didn’t mean it but really like her? Double down and say that I do love her, and I’m determined to make her love me too? Ignore it all and act like I never said anything?

Ding, ding, ding!

Option three is a definite winner. I’ll play the ‘I’m a dumb fucking idiot’ card and act like nothing happened. I could text her and tell her that we’ll talk about it when I get home, and remind her that I don’t lie, but I don’t want her to throw up her walls like she did when she realized I was also StickUM92. Becca needs time to wrap her head around things, and as much as I’d like to force her to communicate with me, I know I have to be patient.

Sighing, I climb out of bed. I groan as my left calf muscle locks up, and I lean down to massage it gently. The game tonight was very intense, and I pushed it more than I probably should have. As I walk into the bathroom, I decide to take advantage of the large soaker tub. We rarely get hotels on away trips that have an oversized tub this nice, so I might as well enjoy this while I can.

While the tub fills up, I grab a washcloth. Dipping it into the tub water, I carefully wipe my release from my stomach, grimacing at how quickly I fucked it all up tonight. Had we ended our conversation right after we both came, I’d probably be happily asleep right now. God knows Becca is probably spiraling, but I can’t call her back and talk her through it. Even though I want to. Fuck do I want to call her.

I remove my boxer briefs and slide into the tub, hissing as the scalding water covers my body. Leaning back, I close my eyes and relax. I can’t worry about the past now. Just need to hope I can act like nothing happened … and that Becca lets me do it.

The following morning,I check Becca’s location to make sure she’s at work. Yeah, I follow her location, and she doesn’t know it. It’s possible I’m becoming slightly unhinged about my wife. Considering she bolted when she heard the L-word, I stand by my less than trustworthy decision.

Satisfied when I see her location is at the station, I shove my phone in my pocket before climbing the outdoor boarding stairs at the airport. I do love that professional athletes get driven directly to a private hangar where we get on the plane. It’s not that I hate being in an airport. I just despise going through security.

“Surprised you didn’t bring the ball-and-chain with you on this trip too, Jax,” our goaltending coach, Ryan McNichols, teases. “Figured she was part of the Jax package.”

“Funny,” I reply. “She has a job that she loves. I’d never expect her to follow me around like a lost puppy.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. Most women stop working once they nab themselves a hockey star.”

“My wife isn’t like most women.”

“So it’s going well?” he asks, following me past where the coaching staff normally sit. “I mean, you got married pretty quickly, didn’t you? She still living by herself, or did you convince her to move in with you? Must be scary living alone in a big downtown like this. Her name’s Becca, right? She’s not knocked up, is she? Pretty little thing, your weather girl. Is she good in bed? Must be, to convince her to marry you that fast.”

I swivel around, dropping my bags to grab Ryan by the throat. “I’m not sure what you think you’re doing right now, McNichols, but keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth.”

“Jeez, man. Calm down. I was just making conversation,” he says weakly, his hands up in meek surrender. I notice they’re shaking slightly, and my eyes narrow.

“Who wants to know, McNichols? You aren’t asking for yourself. You couldn’t care less about any of our personal lives, so why now?” I squeeze his throat a bit more, and his eyes widen dramatically.

“N — no one.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I growl. “Frankly, I know who put you up to this. I just want you to explain what your connection is and how he got to you.”

“What does it matter?” he asks, and I grin wickedly. Dumbass just admitted he wasn’t asking just to make conversation.

“It matters, McNichols, because this can go one of two ways. You can tell me what you know, and maybe I’ll let you keep your job.” I’m not. I’m going to human resources about him immediately. How Becca’s brother got to him, I may never know, but clearly he can be bought, which is horrifying for our team. “Or, you can keep quiet, and I destroy you, inch by motherfucking inch, until there’s nothing left of you but a few skin cells and stupid memories.”

“Ry? Jax? What’s going on?” Levi asks nonchalantly as he comes down the aisle. “Probably should let him go, Jax, so we can leave. Coach will have your nuts if we don’t arrive in Tampa at exactly the time he marked on our itineraries.”

“He’s right,” McNichols rasps, his face turning a little purple when I squeeze tighter.

“Fine,” I growl, letting go to shove him backwards. “You think about what I said, asshole. Two choices. Make the better one.”

Gasping, he nods as he turns to hustle toward the coaching staff.

---