Page 87 of The New Guy
“I like a challenge. And you’re already indispensable. So when I come out to management, they’ll help us find a path forward.”
Gavin looks at his shoes. “I like the sound of that, but there are no guarantees.”
He’s right. There’s no easy solution. But it gives me something to shoot for. “I’m sorry this is so hard.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not trying to blame you. But shit got complicated real fast. And I just don’t have room in my life for complications. I wish I did. Because Hudson?” He looks up and gives me a sad smile. “You’re my favorite complication.”
I’m still processing that when he turns toward the door. And I rise like a puppet on a string, because the sight of him walking out cuts me deep.
“Gavin, wait.” The words are out of my mouth before I can help myself. It’s not like I can change his mind. That would just be selfish.
He stops, though, right beside the door. And now he’s waiting for me to say something.
“Take care of yourself.” My voice is gravel. I step a little closer. The urge to kiss him is so strong. But that’s not whattaking a pausemeans. So I hug him instead.
And, whoops, it’s actually worse. As his arms close around me, he sighs, and rests his chin on my shoulder. I feel his strong heartbeat against mine. “Thank you for listening,” he whispers.
“Always,” I whisper back.
All I want is to listen to him. I want him in my life, and in my bed.
But my whole life is set up to want hockey more.
So a moment later he leaves my arms. And then he leaves my apartment.
And I’m all alone again.
THIRTY
Gavin
I knowI did the right thing. I removed Hudson from my private life. No more flirty texts and no more late night meet-ups in his bed, burning up the sheets.
The problem is that he’s still lodged in my heart. No matter where I am, at home or at work, my subconscious is still tuned into the Hudson Newgate channel. Whenever I hear the rattle of his keys in the hallway, he’s all I can think about. While I’m treating another player, I’m still listening to his laugh from the other room.
Jordyn keeps asking about him, too. “Can Hudson come over for dinner again?” she asks the next time I serve ramen. “He liked it.”
“He’s probably too busy,” I argue.
“Nope,” she argues. “He came home when Reggie and me did! Let’s call him.”
I make another excuse, feeling like a heel. And she drops it. But when I’m ladling up bowls of steaming soup, I almost break down and make him one. What would be the harm, right? It’s just soup.
But with Hudson, it was never just soup. Or just sex. My interest in him was deeper than I’d let myself believe.
We can’t be a couple, though. He’s not ready. I’ve always known that.
Doesn’t make it easy, though. The playoffs start after just two more regular season games, and tensions are high. Morning skate is packed. The gym is crowded. And the training staff is as busy as ever.
Henry is working with Hudson today, though, so at least I don’t have to touch him. But he’s right there, a few feet away, and it’s a struggle to keep my focus where it belongs.
“How’s the childcare crisis?” Castro asks me as I work out a charley horse in his calf. “Did you find your little girl a day camp?”
“No,” I say with a sigh. “There’s one at the Brooklyn Academy of Arts that would be perfect, but they’ll fill up before I can register. Plus it’s two thousand dollars. I put us on the waiting list, but…”
“Ouch,” he says. “Kids are expensive.”
“Sometimes,” I agree. “And then other times they’d rather have mac and cheese from a blue box than daddy’s homemade three cheese extravaganza.”
