Page 50 of Playing the Pucking Game
“Wha—”
“You can try and tell me all you want that it’s not hurting, but I watched you walk over here. Iknow, Storm.”
“Damn you, Donnelly.”
“I’ll go and get you some ice.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s the least I can do for screwing up your night.”
“You didn’t. Eating alone was much more peaceful.”
Her mouth opens and closes, but she swallows down whatever comment she wants to make.
Instead, her entire body relaxes and her voice softens. “If you’d have just told me?—”
“I thought I had. Clearly, I fucked that up.”
“Linc,” she starts, but I don’t let her continue.
I’ve been vulnerable enough tonight. And after where my head went in the shower earlier, I’m done. I’m exhausted. I just want to fall into my bed and crash.
“Are you getting ice or not?” I ask a little harsher than I intended.
I've shown her a side of myself tonight that I’m really regretting.
It’s only ever happened once before, and the exact same thing happened.
I was shut down and reminded of the person everyone thinks I am.
The player, the life and soul of the party.
The fun one without a care in the world.
If only that were true.
And it just goes to prove that Parker was wrong earlier. She doesn’t know me. Not really. She knows Lincoln Storm, LAVipers’ number seven. She doesn’t know Linc, the guy who’s been there right under her nose since we were just kids.
“Y-yeah. I’ll get your ice.”
I stand frozen on the spot, watching her go, my head spinning with thoughts and feelings. Most of which I shoved down a long time ago.
Six years ago, to be exact.
Thankfully, Parker returns with an ice pack from my freezer before I make the mistake of losing myself in memories that are best kept in the past.
“Get comfortable,” she instructs, jerking her chin in the direction of my bed.
“I’ve got it, Donnelly,” I say, practically snatching it from her.
She watches as I fall onto my bed, pressing the ice pack against my inner thigh. It’s cold—freezing, actually—but I don’t react.
“You’re not benching me for our next game,” I state, my eyes closing as I rest my head back.
“We’ll see,” she warns.
I don’t look as she moves, and my eyes don’t open for long minutes after the sound of my door closing fills the room.
