Page 6 of Hockey Halloween
“Well, if it helps, you should know that I almost ran after you.”
The weight of his gaze is enough to make my pulse flutter. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I freeze in uncomfortable situations,” I say with an awkward chuckle. “My brain totally short-circuits, my limbs weigh a ton. But then you left and all I could think about was finding you again.”
“So here we are.”
“Here we are,” I repeat his words. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he says with a widening smile.
“You said you weren’t supposed to be here tonight. That your friends wanted you to have fun and let loose. Yet, you didn’t specify what you were taking a break from.”
He exhales slowly. “It’s complicated.”
“That’s a cop-out if I ever heard one.”
“My life is intense, okay? I’ve got a job where everything is under constant pressure. There’s public expectations, performance scores and scrutiny over every little detail. Even when I’m off the clock, I can’t relax even if I would love nothing more than to do that.” I nod, quietly listening. “Tonight, you didn’t recognize me. You didn’t talk to me because of who I am, or what I do. You just sawme.”
My brain scrambles, trying to understand his words. It’s like I’m missing a puzzle piece. Yet, it doesn’t erase the feelings I have after a short time knowing him.
“I still see you, Nolan. Whatever it is, whatever you do. It doesn’t change the way I felt talking with you.”
He watches me for a moment, something vulnerable flickering in his gaze. “I wanted to tell you—” He breaks off, running fingers through his hair. “I guess I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“You can tell me any?—”
My words are cut off by a shrill gasp. “Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s you!”
We both turn toward the high-pitched voice. A young woman in a glittery Cleopatra costume clutches her phone and stares at Nolan like he’s risen from an ancient tomb.
“You’re Nolan Ford—number 83!” she squeals. “Holy crap, I knew it was you, but I had to get closer to confirm. My younger brother isobsessedwith you and your team. We watch every game together. You’re the reason he got into hockey.”
“Um, thanks. That’s really kind of you to share,” he replies, a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes forming on his face.
“Can I get a selfie?” The woman is already stepping next to him, phone angled for a photo. “He’s going to freak out.”
Nolan nods and she snaps the shot before thanking him, asking for his number to send it over. He declines, saying she can post it on social media and tag him instead.
What the heck is happening?
The shift between us is immediate. He’s still the same man who made me feel special earlier, even if his expression is guarded and annoyed at the same time.
The woman mentioned hockey and how she watches every game with her brother. How the man in front of me inspired the kid to play. My heart stumbles in my chest as the pieces click in place.
“You’re a professional hockey player,” I whisper, disappointment lacing my low tone.
His jaw tightens as he lowers his head. “I play for the Minnesota Lynx as their first line left winger.”
“As in the NHL team? The same team that won a few seasons ago?”
“Yeah,” he admits with a resolute sigh. “That would be the one.”
Something tightens in my throat. I step away, wanting to flee.Not again. I can’t be falling for another hockey player. Not after what happened with my ex. Not after he cheated on me with multiple women while on the road.
I wrap my arms around myself, not because I’m cold, but because I need something to hold me together. Swallowing hard, I ask, “You thought it would be okay not to tell me?”
The familiar ache I thought I’d left behind with my ex rushes back with my question. It settles in my chest like a wound that never fully healed, waiting for the right moment to throb as a reminder of the past pain. I feel stupid for letting myself fall, even for a second.
