Page 11 of The Trade Up

“You’re going to be in my city. Well, you’ll be in Cambridge, on the other side of the river from Boston, but still?—”

Her eyebrows are furrowed together in confusion. “I thought you lived in Toronto?”

“I grew up in Toronto. When I was nineteen, I moved to Philadelphia, and I’ve been in Boston for about six months.”

“Why’d you move to Boston?”

“I got traded. I play for the Boston Rebels.”

I’m completely unprepared for the way she draws back in horror, whispering, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“No, why?” I didn’t want her to like mebecauseI played hockey, but I wasn’t expecting her to have this kind of adverse reaction, either.

“I don’t date hockey players.”

“As a general rule? Or because of a bad experience?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve dated a professional hockey player before—” I don’t know what to do with this jealousy coursing through my veins. Of course she’s dated other people. But someone I play against? Or maybe even worse—with? “—and the experience was bad enough that it’s turned you off hockey players forever?”

She presses her lips between her teeth and nods. “He was fucking terrible.”

I already want to kill him and I don’t even know who he is.

“What happened?” My words are gentle even though every muscle in my body is tense with the need to pummel this guy. And I’m known fornotfighting.

“Imagine being constantly cheated on and belittled. He also used his size to intimate me into backing down every time we had an argument. Even though he never hurt me, I never felt safe with him.”

“Ashleigh,” I say, reaching out and running my knuckles down her bare arm and lacing my fingers through hers. I’m relieved when she doesn’t pull away. “You know that just because he played hockey and was an asshole doesn’t mean all hockey players are assholes, right?”

She looks away, and I hate that her view of me has changed so drastically because of the sport I love.

“Have I, at any point, made you feel unsafe or made you feel like you can’t trust me?”

She shakes her head no as she looks back at me, locking those beautiful blue and green eyes with mine.

“Because I’m not that kind of guy, and I think you already know that,” I say. “I want to stay and talk more about this, but I can’t be late to practice. Can we meet up, maybe for lunch?” It would have to be quick, but I should be able to make time in between practice and my routine before the game.

“My shift at the Science Museum starts at 11AM, so I don’t really get a lunch break. I’d suggest dinner, but…”

“I have a game,” I finish when she trails off. “And then we’re heading straight to the plane and flying home.” Normally I don’t mind our overnight flights back to Boston. The airplane is comfortable and I can fall asleep anywhere, and it’s nice to wake up and be home rather than wasting a day traveling. But right now I’d give anything to be spending one more night here.

We stare at each other for a moment, and I’m relieved to find that she looks sad at the prospect of not seeing me again. It’s a nice contrast to the look of horror she had a moment ago.

“I have some time off around Christmas,” I say. “Maybe I can come back here and see you. It’s only a couple weeks from now. And then you’re moving to Cambridge, when? In like a month?”

“Yeah, most likely.”

“This wasn’t just sex for me, Ashleigh. And I think you felt more, too. Just tell me this isn’t over,” I say, desperate to know I’ll see her again and not caring if I come off as needy. I don’t want to leave any room for her to question how I feel.

She pauses and my heart sinks, but then she says, “We’ll figure it out. You have my number.”

“Come to the game tonight,” I say, squeezing her hand.

“Zach,” she says, and I can tell she’s declining the invite in the way she says my name. Then she shakes her head and says, “My ex will be there.”

“Who is he?”

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