Page 43 of Forecheck
“Concussion or stitches?”
“Concussion…” She trailed off, thinking about it, then said, “Both.”
“God,” I said, screwing my eyes up in thought. “For the concussion? College, I think?”
“Okay, okay,” Lexie said, holding up a hand. “Don’t hurt yourself. That hit was gnarly.”
I smiled, though even that was painful. “To answer the rest of it, I had stitches a few years ago. Don’t ask how, but Mitch’s skate sliced open my finger at practice one day.”
“You guys are fucking idiots,” she said, but there was no harshness in her tone.
“I’m not gonna fight you on that one.” I relaxed back into the bed, letting my eyes fall closed again. “God, I feel like someone took a hammer to my head.” Then, “Wait, you were at the game?”
“Yeah…” For the first time since I’d met her, Lexie seemed…shy. “Mitch gave me a ticket.”
Unbidden, my brow rose, and I winced at the pain that shot through my skull. Relaxing my face, I asked softly, “You and Mitch, huh?”
Lexie waved me off. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I haven’t mentioned it to Berkley yet.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I said. “But you know Berk would be so happy for you two. And for what it’s worth, Mitch is a great guy. Thebest.”
Lexie gave me a wry smile. “I’m quickly learning that.”
I smiled, then, changing the subject, said, “So Berkley wanted you to come check on me?”
“Yeah. She told me it was the least I could do after going to the game without her.”
I barked out a laugh. “That sounds like her.”
“You should be glad she’s not here, actually. She’s really worried about you, and she doesn’t do well with injuries. There was one time Logan broke his hand playing in a slow-pitch summer league. She was a nightmare, and that wasn’t nearly as serious as this.”
My mind skipped right over the part where Berkley was worried about me and instead latched onto the name Lexie had spoken.
“Who the fuck is Logan?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Lexie laughed, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Easy, killer. Logan is her brother.”
“Berkley has a brother?” I asked dumbly.
“And a sister,” Lexie told me. “Seems like something you should know about the girl you’re dating.”
“Well, it’s not like she knows I have siblings, too,” I said. “A brother and a sister as well, actually.”
“Honestly, I’m sure she knows already,” Lexie said, snorting. “The girl’s been kind of obsessed with you for a while.”
“How long is a while?” Though Berkley had told me herself she’d had a bit of a crush on me since college, I couldn’t help pumping her best friend for more information.
“Oh, God, definitely since college. You were the hot older guy she always fantasized about but knew she could never have.”
I thought back to the kind of man I’d been in college. More of a boy, really. A lot of hockey players played two years of juniors before matriculating, but I hadn’t. I’d chosen to jump right into NCAA play with both feet at eighteen, and those first couple of years had done wonders in maturing me as an athlete.
Not much, however, in maturing me as a human.
Those early days of being on campus, getting to know my teammates and learning the lay of the land were a blur. On top of regular practices and classes, tutoring and training, my teammates and I spent a ridiculous amount of time at the local dive bar. And in those days, I’d only wanted one thing from females.
Sex.
I’d only had one partner before then—my high school girlfriend—and the wheels had come off when I moved to East Lansing. Away from the watchful eyes of my parents, I’d turned into a certified fuckboy. My body count had gone from one to double digits in a matter of weeks. I wasn’t a bad guy, exactly. I had always been upfront with women about what I wanted from them—and what I didn’t. But I quickly gained a reputation, andbeing a standout collegiate athlete made it easy for me to exploit it.
