Page 298 of Playing the Pucking Game
“What about keeping it quiet for a bit?” I ask, staring up at him in surprise.
“I’m fed up with hiding how I feel about you, pretty girl. It’s been too fucking long.”
My heart clenches at his words.
“Storm,” Coach barks from behind me. “For that little stunt, you’re on post-game press. Hell knows the world has questions about tonight.”
“I’m pretty sure I just answered them all, Coach.”
“You kids are gonna give me gray hair.”
“It’s already gray,” I point out with a laugh.
He mutters something under his breath before demanding that Linc get changed and fast before stalking off.
“Love making Coach proud.” Linc laughs.
“He loves it really. You’re all like his adopted kids.”
“You too,” Linc says with a smile. “He’s been on our side this whole time, you know that, right? Apparently, you’re a good influence on me.”
“Maybe that’s what Rett needs. A good influence.”
“Not sure he’d know one if it hit him in the face,” Linc jokes. “Have you spoken to him?”
“No, not yet. I’ll go and find him after I’m finished up with the guys.”
“He’ll be okay.”
“You keep saying that, but things seem to be getting worse. He’s going to be savage about being ejected.”
“That’s on him. Not us. He didn’t need to come out all guns blazing tonight. He took his shot this morning; it should have all been done by the time he left our apartment.”
“Our apartment?” I question, choosing to ignore the rest. He’s right, but it doesn’t make any of it any better.
“Yeah, if you want it to be. I know you only moved in temporarily, but I don’t want you to leave.”
The thought of packing up my stuff and starting over somewhere else really doesn’t sit right with me. I’d do it if he wanted me to. But I can’t say it’s what I want.
“I know it appears like we’re moving fast, but really, we’re going slow as fuck. I’ve been waiting for this since I was a teenager. I can’t wait any longer.”
My heart pounds and three little words dance on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them down.
Not yet.
Not here.
But soon.
Really freaking soon.
74
PARKER
Istand at the back of the press room with butterflies rioting in my stomach. Fletch, Coach and then Linc file into the room and take their places.
I’ve only attended these events a handful of times in the past, and they’ve almost always been for Dad back in the day. I’ve certainly never attended one where I’m almost certain that at least half of the questions about tonight are going to be about me.
