Page 57 of Playing the Pucking Game
With my cap pulled low, I exit the hotel to a chilly Texas evening.
A shiver races through me, making me wish I’d put a coat on. But not wanting to go back up and interrupt anything, I focus on moving. If I walk fast enough, I’ll warm up in a few blocks.
I walk for hours,lost in a million different thoughts, from work to family and everything in between. But no matter where my mind goes, somehow it always drifts back to her.
Memories of times gone by that I’ve forced to the dark depths of my mind begin to emerge. They’re dangerous and lead medown a road I told myself I’d never venture again. But I can’t help it.
Kodie was right. She is firmly under my skin.
What he doesn’t know is that she always has been.
By the time I head back toward the hotel, the streets are almost deserted. There are a few drunken people spilling out of clubs and bars, but it’s nothing like being at home. And thankfully, everyone is either too drunk or distracted to pay much attention to me.
Kodie messaged me hours ago, letting me know that it was safe to return. But even that didn’t have me turning around to find my bed.
If I’m not playing tomorrow, what’s the point?
Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m here. They might as well have left me at home, for all the help I’m going to be.
My heart aches and my muscles are lagging as I shuffle through to the hotel foyer. I’m freezing but numb enough to ignore it.
There are a couple of people loitering around, but no one pays me any mind as I make my way to the elevator. I’ve just pressed the call button when a familiar giggle hits my ears.
Spinning around, my eyes widen when I see Parker and Brooke stumbling into the hotel with hot dogs in one hand and takeout coffee cups in the other. Both have wide, genuine smiles on their faces. They’re dressed as if they’ve been in a club, only Parker isn’t wearing any shoes. On closer inspection, I find them in a carrier bag hanging from her wrist.
They don’t see me as they get closer, too lost in whatever they’re talking about.
“I can’t believe you turned him down,” Brooke shouts. “He was so fucking hot.”
My entire body tenses.
“Then you could have had him. Not my type.”
“Girl, you need to have a word with yourself if fine isn’t your type.”
“He was an athlete,” Parker reasons.
“So? What’s wrong with having a hot night with an athlete?” Brooke finally looks up, her glassy eyes finding mine.
“Yeah, what is so wrong with having a hot night with an athlete?” I ask, waiting for the moment a drunk Parker recognizes my voice. And I’m so glad I did, because her reaction is everything I needed tonight.
16
PARKER
Everything is great, untilhisvoice rocks through me.
Lincoln Storm. The man who’s been a constant in my thoughts recently. Of fucking course he’s in the hotel foyer, looking like the hot ice hockey god that he is.
Images I don’t want erupt in my head as I stare at him, seeing him not as the man and professional athlete he is today, but the young man with stars in his eyes he was six years ago.
It takes a few seconds for my slightly buzzed and exhausted brain to catch up with me.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I snap.
His eyes run down the length of me, taking in my fitted little black dress. It was an emergency purchase the other day in case of an impromptu night out like this. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get a chance to wear it, but I’m glad I did. I felt like my old self tonight, getting dolled up and going out.
Brooke and Leah are the best.
