Page 59 of Forecheck
“Will do,” she said. “I’m heading home to take a shower now. Call me after your game tonight, please.”
“I will. Bye, baby.”
“Bye.”
I sat back on my pillows and tipped my head toward the ceiling, wishing I could do more for her than offer words of security.
Ever since my college days, I’d been acutely aware I was good-looking. During my high school senior season, I hadn’t quite grown into my limbs yet, and I was gangly off the ice. But college preseason training had bulked me up a lot, that summer before college dramatically altering my physical appearance. Almost overnight, I’d gone from an awkward teenager who couldn’t put on weight to save his life, to a man with well-defined muscles and a sharp jaw constantly lined with stubble. Thanks to my blue eyes and unruly mop of hair that women seemed to love, I’d begun to receive far more attention than I ever had before.
The longer I played, the more notoriety I gained. Women became more obsessive, too. I could hardly step off the busat an away game without fans lining the sidewalks, screaming my name. Frequently, women had accosted me in hotel lobbies, asking if they could come up to my room with me.
I was ashamed to admit I’d let it happen on more than one occasion.
But I wasunashamed to admit that Berkley had changed all of that. The first time I’d seen her, there had been a spark of recognition, as though some piece of her had spoken to some piece of me.
And now that I had her, now that she was mine, I was never going to let her go.
A knock sounded on my door, and I found Mitch waiting outside.
“What’s up?”
“Just wanted to check in,” Mitch said, pushing past me into the room. “I know taking your relationship public probably hasn’t been easy. How’s your little lady holding up? I texted her a few times, but I haven’t heard back.”
“She’s hanging in there. Fans have not been kind to her, unfortunately. She called me a bit ago to tell me a classmate dumped a cup of coffee over her head.”
Mitch, in the process of dropping himself onto one of the chairs by the windows, widened his eyes and let out a colorful string of curses. “What is wrong with people?”
I shook my head. “I wish I knew.”
“She’s a tough girl,” Mitch said. “It’ll all blow over soon, and then you guys can laugh about it.”
“I hope you’re right. If only convincing her was as simple. She has so much on her plate already with law school and studying for the Bar. I never wanted to be a problem for her, and she tells me I’m not, but lately I’m not so sure. I just wish there was something I could do to make things easier on her, you know?”
“What about a vacation?” Mitch suggested.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, dude, but between hockey and law school, we don’t exactly have a lot of free time.”
“So don’t go far. There are plenty of places in Michigan you could go for the weekend. Just get out of Detroit for a few days.”
“You really think that’ll help?”
“I think what she needs right now from you is your support,” Mitch said, rising to his full height—an inch over my own six-three—and clapping a hand onto my shoulder. “And what better way to give her that than by getting away from the city, just you two? Spend some quality time together.”
I mulled over the possibilities. Traverse City was out of the question. The last thing she needed when trying to relax was her family nearby, adding more pressure. Grand Rapids was always an option, as was heading back to our old stomping grounds of East Lansing.
“That’s not a bad idea,” I said, then frowned. “Why do you always have the best ideas?”
Mitch smiled. “It’s a gift.” He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob to look at me. “For what it’s worth, I recommend Frankenmuth. I heard they’ve got this winter festival coming up that sounds perfect. Now get up and put your suit on. We’ve got a game to go play.”
He disappeared, leaving me alone, tapping away into the Google search bar.
We won our game against Carolina that night and flew home to Detroit the next morning. My research the day before had indicated the Frankenmuth Winter Festival began the upcoming Wednesday and ran through Sunday. Since we played at homeon Friday before having three days off, I figured, as long as I could convince Berkley to sneak away, we were in the clear.
The second I walked back into my condo, I called my girl.
“Hi, babe,” she said when she answered.
“Hi,” I said back, smiling at the sound of her voice. “What’re you doing?”
