Page 31 of Playing the Pucking Game
Bottles of my favorite hair products.
“Yes, they’re perfect. Thank you,” I say, praying I don’t sound like I’m moments away from breaking down.
“There’s more,” he says, sliding another bag closer.
Inside that one are my face care products and a selection of makeup in my favorite brands.
“The color Casey gave me for the lipstick didn’t exist. We spoke to a lady who works there, and she said?—”
“That it’s been discontinued.”
“Y-yeah. She suggested that one as the closest alternative.”
A laugh bubbles out of me.
Before I know what I’m doing, I launch myself at him, jumping so I can properly wrap my arms around his shoulders.
“Whoa.” He grunts, catching me before I slide down his body and no doubt crumple into an emotional heap on the floor.
“Who are you and what have you done with Lincoln Storm?” I ask brokenly as I cling to him, my tears embarrassingly soaking into his T-shirt.
He holds me tighter as his chest rumbles with laughter. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who knows this side of me exists, babe. No other woman has seen it, that’s for sure.”
His words and the reminder of the past they drag up are like a bucket of ice-cold water thrown over me.
I release him and drop to the floor as if I’ve been burned.
“Parker?” he asks, confused by the sudden change.
“Thank you so much for this. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“I’ve got practice and a strength and conditioning session tomorrow, but I can be done early afternoon if you need company for anything else,” he offers.
“I think I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna…” I gather up the bags, needing to get as far away from him as I possibly can while inside his apartment. “Hang out in the guest room, get out of your hair. Forget I’m even here. Just…you do you, yeah?”
9
LINCOLN
It’s been hours since Parker disappeared into my guest room. She told me that she was going to get out of my way, and she’s certainly done that.
I should be relieved she’s allowing me to continue my life as if she’s not here, but I’m not.
When Killer messaged in our group chat earlier, asking if we were doing anything tonight, I put them off. Usually, I’d be the first to invite everyone here to hang out and play Xbox. But tonight, it felt wrong.
Parker is suffering, and the last thing she needs is an apartment full of hockey players.
So instead, I hit my home gym for the second time today before falling onto the couch to watch game tape.
Everything is moving in the right direction, but we’ve still got a long way to go if we’re going to keep our place in the league and secure our playoff position.
Hours pass, but eventually, my stomach begins growling, demanding food.
I glance toward my kitchen. Usually, I cook. I’m not the best at it, but I try my best. What I really need is a chef like some of the other guys have, but that means having someone I don’treally know here a lot of the time, and to be honest, I’d rather just manage myself.
But tonight, the prospect of cooking is even more unappealing than usual.
Pulling up a delivery app, I scroll through, searching for something that catches my eye.
