Page 29 of Body Check
“Well, Bran says Dickhead, but I think Dick is nicer. But that can’t be you. Your name is Dutton James.”
Instead of agreeing with me, or laughing riotously like this is all some crazy prank he concocted, he shakes his head and holds out his hand. “Dutton James Wagner. Nice to meet you, Bridgette Mikalski.” His words hang in the air, just like his open palm does. I make no move to shake it because, for one thing, I’m in a state of total shock right now. And for another, I don’t want to shake his hand. I don’t want to be his friend. I wanted so much more than that, but clearly, anything I thought I had with Dutton James is over.
Just as that awful thought is taking hold in my brain, I feel the warmth of his hand as it caresses my cheek. His thumb is soft and gentle as it brushes a tear from my face. I had no idea the waterworks were running, but I’m not surprised. We’ve known each other for such a short time, but the feelings I have for him are already powerful.
I’m still holding onto a shred of hope that this conversation isn’t really happening, that it was such a long day that I dozed off as soon as my ass sank into the plush leather seats of his SUV, that this is all just a crazy dream. It’s silly, but I have to ask him one more time. “You’re really my brother’s teammate? The guy who drives him batshit crazy?”
Dutton cracks half a smile. “I could say that he’s already batshit crazy, but then I’d be living up to the nickname he gave me. And I’d be pissing you off, which is not something I’m ever inclined to do. So, I’ll just say yes. I’m the team’s new center, and Blue’s the newest D-man.”
“How is that possible?” I ask as my muddled brain tries to figure this out..
“You’ve seen me play. You’ve even booed me, apparently. Surely you know how it’s possible for me to play hockey? And if you’re asking how we got late transfers without any penalty, well, that’s a longer story. The basic gist of it is that my old coaches were involved in some shady shit, including hazing rituals. They were suspended, but the few of us who weren’t involved were allowed to transfer and play for new teams.”
I nod, because I vaguely remember Bran talking about that mess, but that’s not what I mean. “How is it possible that we’ve spent so much time together, but you never mentioned hockey. I’ve been around hockey players my whole life. They never shut up about their sport or their teammates or their workouts. The guys who drive the Zamboni probably use their proximity to the team to land dates with girls, and you’re the freaking starting center and you never dropped a hint, not even once.” That probably bothers me more than it should. Was he hiding it from me? And what’s the point of that? Dutton doesn’t seem like a manipulator or like the kind of guy who’d withhold information, but I really don’t know him all that well. Maybe Bran has beenright about him this whole time, and that hurts more than it should.
Brushing his free hand along his jaw and letting his blue eyes fix on my green ones. “Maybe we skipped over some of the basics just to leap ahead and get to the really good parts,” he says. “And when we did talk, my mind was never on hockey. Part of the reason for that is that at Woodcock, I got a fair amount of female attention, but believe it or not, that wasn’t because of my sparkling personality. Maybe I really do sound like an asshole now, but it felt good when you liked me just for myself, not for all the perks of being with a hockey player. That’s why I gave you my first and middle names. It’s just a habit I got into after a messy breakup.
My practical side takes over, forcing me to pull away from him and reach for my bag. “My brother is going to lose his mind. If he finds out that you and I?—”
“He might go apeshit,” Dutton concedes, reaching his hand out to still my movement. “But he’ll get over it.”
“No, he won’t,” I insist.
Dutton just shrugs. “Ok, then that’s his problem. This has been the best week of my life, Bridgette. And yeah, that sounds crazy, but I’m not giving up on us because your brother has beef with me.”
My heart rejoices at his words, but my brain knows they don’t compute. “It’s a little more than beef.”
“Answer me this,” he says, tucking an errant lock of hair behind my ear. “If my name were…I don’t know, say…Dustin, for example…would you still be my girlfriend?”
My brain is on overload, so I just blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “I’m not. I mean…we haven’t officially had that conversation.”
He levels me with a look. “Are you seeing anyone else? Sharing your bed with anyone else? Fucking thinking aboutanyone else, even for a damn second? Because I’m not. I haven’t been since I laid eyes on you.”
I shake my head. “No,” I answer.
The fingers on his right hand toy with my hair while his left hand trails gently over my jaw, neck, and collarbone. It’s almost as though he knows I need his touch to stay grounded.
“So the only reason you’re freaking out is because I’m Dickhead?”
“Yes,” I say, worry seeping into my voice. It might be the only reason, but it’s still a pretty damn big one.
“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he says, taking a breath. “Your brother’s not wrong. I am kind of a dickhead to him. Guess I need to work on that, because you like me, Bridgette. And I like you. A lot. And I only like about five people in the world, so…yeah. Don’t give up on us, okay? It’s all going to work out. We’ll tell your brother, and he’ll flip his shit, and then we’ll all be laughing about this at Thanksgiving dinner.”
Out of all the things Dutton has said to me tonight, the wordsThanksgiving dinnerhit me the hardest. That’s more than two months away. The fact that he thinks we’ll be together by then is almost as crazy as the fact that he thinks Bran will ever laugh about this. I know what I have to do. I have to break things off. I can’t betray Bran this way, and that’s exactly how he would see the situation, as a betrayal. I’m going to have to force myself to pull away from him one more time and put my fingers on the door handle. A minute from now, I could be halfway down the block. But I can’t force myself to move. Ending things with Dutton is the right thing to do, but some selfish part of my brain is telling me to stay put and stop being such a fool. Dutton Wagner’s picking me. He’s choosing me. I’m not a consolation prize. To him, I am the prize. And that’s not something I’m used to feeling.
He cups my cheek again. “Tell me you’re not about to bolt. I can see the battle raging in your head. Tell me you’re willing to give us a shot, Bridgette.”
“Okay,” I agree, because I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I walked away from whatever is happening between Dutton and me. But I also know Bran would never forgive me if he knew where I am right now, and who I’m with. “But there’s one condition. Bran can’t find out.”
“What? Why?” he asks, pulling his hand back as though he’s been stung.
“Because he won’t understand. And trust me when I say he’s the best brother I could ever ask for. There have been times in my life when he’s been the only person in my corner, the only one cheering me on, the only one who believed in me. I can’t hurt him. He doesn’t deserve that.”.
“He’ll get over it,” Dutton insists. “He’s not a child. And if he can’t get over it, if he chooses his beef with me over his support for you, then he deserves every nasty name I've ever called him.
“It’s not like that,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t get it. The way we grew up…I’m not going to get into it now, but I owe Bran everything. He protected me. I don’t have it in me to hurt him, but I don’t have it in me to walk away from you, either. The only solution is to keep it quiet for now. Besides, this thing between us, it’s so new. Let’s just give it some time. Who knows? Maybe this will fizzle out as quickly as it began. Maybe we’ll get tired of each other in a few days.”
“Not likely,” he scoffs. “I get tired of people within five minutes or not at all.”
