Page 97 of Unrivaled Love
"Why did winning The Stanley Cup turn off your drive?" She asks, finally looking up from her feet at me.
"I don't know. It's like I got run over by a train carrying all the past work and expectations."
"Ouch." She jokes and I scoff. "What would happen if you took a year off?"
I freeze. The idea of actually stepping away from the game never occurred to me. Could I do that? Do I want to?
"I dunno." I answer honestly.
"Fair. I bet you'd have to pay back your salary or something." She skates over to me and pushes me back until I bump into the boards. "But, is that what you want? To quit?"
"No." The word comes out strong and solid. Jo smirks.
"I didn't think so." She slides backwards and continues. "You're a hockey player Bryson, always have been, always will be. And you're not just a player,you're a most valuable player. Your performance in the playoffs was a thing of beauty."
"You watched?"
"Of course, I did.” She shrugs. “I had to make sure you weren't getting too far ahead of me in the achievement department."
"I see." I smile and start skating, pushing her backwards. "So, it would actually be in your best interest if I quit, wouldn't it?"
She shrugs. "It wouldn't hurt if I suddenly became the winningest athlete in town."
"Well Killer, you better be ready to work." I smile. Jo Hamilton is absolutely the piece I've been missing. "I bet I can score more goals in one game than you can the rest of your season."
Her eyes grow wide. "Oh, you're so fucking on Svoboda." She holds out a hand to shake.
I grasp it and then pull her to me. She shrieks with laughter and I devour her joy with a kiss.
Chapter 31
Jo
My Man Larry
"EasyKiller,"Brysonsaysas he places his palm on my knee. I didn't realize it was bouncing furiously until he stopped it. "Why are you so nervous?"
"I dunno, because I am!" I hiss out and try to avoid the Uber driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. Truth? I know exactly what it is. I’ve been feeling a growing sense of unease and anxiety since our parents dropped us off at the airport this morning. The last time I was home I was given a suspension; which is not something I ever thought would happen to me. And, since then, I’ve acquired a boyfriend who is my childhood best friend. I’ve also acquired a new girlfriend in Harper who asked if I wanted to be a part of the wives and girlfriends chat, The Stick Handlers. After thumbing through the messages on her phone I agreed I wasn't ready for that level of involvement.
She promised to inform me of any coordinated jacket decisions.
"Is it me? Is it just being back?" Bryson asks.
"Both?" I shrug. Because it is. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him for a whole week before I can return to practice. Bryson slides his palm up my thigh and maneuvers between my legs, his pinky finger getting dangerously close to the apex. I guess we could stay in bed and fuck all week. But then he takes my hand in his and kisses the inside of my wrist. It’s sweet and tender and when he shoots his dazzling smile at me, a shiver slides down my spine. We can absolutely spend the week in, and on, eachother but I think this thing with Bryson might be more than lust. There’s no use denying his touch turns my anxiety down. He can support me in ways I haven’t acknowledged I need.
"Well, I can’t wait for you to show me Jo Hamilton’s SLC. All the restaurants you love, your favorite coffee shop, bookstore. We’ve got one week to cram it all in before practice starts again."
Bryson is going to realize quickly I have zero social life. I wake up, train, rest, and repeat.
"I honestly don't do ‘time off’ very well." Is that enough explanation?
"No kidding." Bryson laughs but it's good natured.
I turn my head out the window to the changing neighborhoods as we travel to my condo. I do have a favorite bookstore but I usually preorder new releases online and get them shipped. I make my coffee at home because it's cheaper. I cook at home so I can control the nutrient density. There was a team dinner the week before our last home game; I could take Bryson to that restaurant. It was good but I don't eat out enough to have a favorite.
I look over at Bryson who is also looking out the window and then my gaze travels down to our hands. There is a dusting of hair on the back of his. It’s light and normally I think knuckle hair would be a turn off but it gives off a manliness I am responding to. His strong fingers alternate with the dotted freckles of mine.
They fit though, perfectly.
