Page 13 of Pucking Fate

Yes, she kicked me to the curb after our one horrible night together years ago, but the connection between us was there way before the bad sex.

And I swear I would give anything for a do-over of that night, her first time that I greedily rushed her into and ruined.

Thinking about the other men the love of my life has been with since…no, I can’t go down that road. I don’t want to know who came after me, who made her toes curl the way I should have.

“Are you dating anyone?” I blurt out like an idiot rather than offering her a ‘good morning.’

Maya folds her arms across her delicious looking breasts and frowns with so much displeasure at the personal question that I want to take it back. She’s not mine. I’m not hers. Not yet. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not dating anyone. At least at the moment…”

“Good.”

Narrowing her brown eyes at me, Maya mutters, “You think that it’s good that I’m alone? Well, now I need to go find a date.”

“No, you don’t. I mean, unless you want to. You’re right. It’s none of my business, but I’m glad there’s no one else for you or Finley.”

Her arms remain crossed tight across her cleavage like a shield. Cleavage that’s way more enticing than it was years ago when I fantasized about falling asleep on the bare beauties. Her walls are still up, and I know she’s trying to protect herself — and Finley, too. But I can’t help hoping that there’s still a part of her that wants to let me in.

“So,” I start, keeping my voice casual, “any chance you’ll be joining me and Finn for a little backyard hockey this morning?”

Maya raises a single eyebrow. “You think I don’t have anything more important to do than watch you show off like a preening peacock? I’m already intimately familiar with your stick handling skills.”

Her remark makes me chuckle. A tightness in my chest eases at the easy banter and my shaft lengthens in my cotton shorts because I’m suddenly assaulted with memories. Memories of winning games in a mostly empty arena and then celebrating with a Netflix night in Maya’s dorm room. I remember her timidly asking me on our fifth date to show her how I liked to stroke myself. She wanted to imitate the moves with her small hand. “I used to love trying to impress you when you would come and watch our practices and games in the minor leagues,” I tell her. “Back when I was so broke I could only afford fast food on our dates,” I remind her. “I always wanted to play my best when you were there cheering for us. You were there for me before the money or the fame, unlike the puck bunnies who hang around the arena nowadays, flashing their tits at me like it’ll convince me to buy them shit.” Maya’s eyes widen a second before I realize the words that came out of my mouth. “Fuck! I shouldn’t have said tits or shit!” I apologize in a rush, then slap my palm over my big mouth to keep more filth from coming outof it. Around it, I say, “Sorry. About the t-word, s-word, and the f-bomb. I’ll do better.”

Rather than look furious at my slip, she glances over her shoulder to make sure Finley’s not within hearing distance before she says quietly, “It’s okay. I may have accidentally called you a jackass the other day and got caught.”

My palm falls away from my mouth and my jaw drops open in disbelief. “You called me a jackass in front of my son?”

“No! Well, yes, but he didn’t know I was talking about you,” she replies with a grin. “I told him the jackass was someone at the grocery store. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t…I would never intentionally badmouth you in front of Finley regardless of what may have happened between us…”

Okay, that makes me feel better, the fact that she slips up now and then too and that she’s not filling Finley’s head to make him hate me the way she does, at least.

“I hope you will return the favor, even if you’re married to some woman five years from now who despises me,” Maya says.

“Never,” I assure her, meaning the marriage to some random imaginary woman or talking shit about her in front of our son.

After that remark, Maya stares at me silently for a long moment, her eyes searching mine for… something. I hold her gaze, even if I have no clue what she’s looking for or what she wants from me. Finally, she sighs and glances toward the kitchen, and the door that leads to the backyard. “Maybe I’ll watch you two play for a few minutes today,” she says, her tone flat. “But don’t expect me to participate. I’m not a superstar with a stick like you.”

For some reason, that small concession to come and watch us feels like a victory. One I’ll gladly take. I blow out a sigh, hating the fact that despite how cordial we might be now, I know that Maya will be even harder than Preston to win over, and foryears he constantly threw punches at my face every time I saw him.

“Come on in,” she says, tipping her head toward the other door so I’ll cross the threshold into the house. “Finley’s already outside, practicing. I think he wants to impress you.”

“He shouldn’t worry about impressing me. Besides, there’s more to life than hockey…” I trail off, thinking about all the times my father told me that shit.

“Not to him there’s not,” Maya says. “His world revolves around hockey. Always has since he was old enough to walk and hold a tiny stick trying to imitate his uncle.”

“No wonder he’s already so damn good,” I remark. Then I ask her, “How old was he when he started walking?”

“Oh, um, I guess he was about ten or eleven months old. By his first birthday he was running laps around the house.”

“Really? Wow. Do you have videos of him at that age?”

“Of course,” she says over her shoulder. “I’ve got most of them saved on the Cloud. I guess…I can put them on a flash drive for you if you want?”

“I would love that,” I tell her. “Seriously. Like all of his photos and videos from the day he was born.”

Laughing, she says, “Okay. And I also have some of both from before he was born.”

“Like photos of you while you were pregnant?”

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