Page 91 of Unrivaled Love
I hate to admit it but it is an impressive trophy.
And the tradition of winners taking turns with The Cup for the postseason is pretty cool.
But, winning the World Cup? A truly global championship? That’s way cooler than the Stanley Cup. I’m going to get there, one day.
Soon.
I’m so close I can practically taste it.
With a smirk of superiority on my lips, I approach Bryson and his friends. The guys say hello and then step away so it’s just us.
Sleeping in my childhood bed, after hooking up with Bryson in his, was a trip. I tossed and turned most of the night. Partially because my mind couldn't wrap itself around the events of the last week.
Partially because I was still so turned on. Apparently one orgasm a night isn’t enough anymore.
“Morning Jo,” Bryson says quietly as he leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. His hand lingers at my low back and waves of heat spreadthrough my body. I look up at him and see both the boy I used to know and the man he is now.
And again my brain can’t fully comprehend how they’re one in the same.
“You look great.” Bryson says as he starts to walk us closer to the trophy. “I want to introduce you to someone.”
I roll my eyes expecting him to be cocky and introduce me to “Lord Stanley Cup” as I’ve heard it referred to but instead he faces the man standing next to it.
“Jo Hamilton, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Chris Boseman. He has been The Keeper of The Cup for fifteen years.”
“Hello Ms. Hamilton,” Chris says. He slides one of his white gloves off and shakes my hand. “I’m excited to have someone of your caliber with The Cup today.”
“Oh, thank you.” I reply. A little surprised he knows who I am. I watch as he slides the glove back into place. Bryson’s hand moves to the back of my neck and his fingers tease into my hair. The warmth of his touch is chased by chills.
“Chris will be riding in the front seat and we’re gonna be perched on the back seat of the car. Do you want to sit next to the Stanley Cup or next to the Conn Smythe trophy?” Bryson asks, his tone all business.
I try to rile him up. “Oh gee, the hardest trophy in sports or the MVP award for winning the hardest trophy in sports? Talk about a rock and a hard place.”
Next to me Chris laughs a little but Bryson only stiffens.
“Typically, the Cup is in the middle and then the player is on one side, his girlfriend on the other. Then we’d put the Conn Smythe on Bryson’s other side.”
“Yeah that works.” Bryson responds because I’m stunned silent. A little stuck on Chris casually dropping the girlfriend title on me.
I hadn’t thought about the fact that me riding along in the car would be a statement; a declaration of our relationship to the town and whatever national media outlets cover the parade.
How is it going to look to Coach McEmbry that I’m out galavanting at home instead of serving penance for my outburst? Is he going to question my dedication? My commitment?
“I, ugh, gotta go make a call quickly.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder and scurry away. When I’ve turned the corner and hid behind the ice cream shop, I pull out my phone.
My pulse races as I wait for my coach to pick up.
“Hamilton, if you’re calling to ask to come back early the answer is no.”
“Hi Coach, I’m not, but that clears up my second question so thanks.” I force a titter of a laugh before I suck in a breath. Coach just waits. It’s the silent treatment I tried on Bryson and fuck if it doesn’t work on me. The words come flying out. “I went back to Colorado after, well, you know, and I reconnected with a childhood friend. And umm, he just won the Stanley Cup and today there’s a parade and I’m going to be in the car with him and it’ll probably be on the news or whatever and so I just wanted you to know. But I didn’t want you to see it and think I wasn’t taking this suspension seriously. I’ve been really upset about it and, well, Bryson has helped me work through it and I’m helping him work through some stuff too, I guess.”
“Hamilton.”
“Yes, Coach?”
“This is why you shouldn’t tickle attack your teammates. They’d be much better to talk to about boy problems.”
“Oh, I'm not really having problems, it’s more like confusion…”
