Page 23 of Power Move
Emotion hits me in the center of my chest, a punch out of nowhere. He says teammate, but I thinkpartner. And that makes me yearn. Yearn for more days like this. For someone to share my space with. For a person who belongs to me and who I belong to because there’s no one else we’d rather be with. For someone to give my heart to.
I hold him closer. When I can talk again, I draw back so I can see his face. “Let’s make breakfast. I want to cook for you.”
“Can we have blueberry pancakes?”
“We can have anything you want.”
CHAPTER 7
SAGE
Soft musicwith a steady beat plays through the record store. The Saturday evening patrons make the place more crowded than I prefer, but tonight’s live music act is a newfound favorite of mine, and I thought Rhys might like them too.
I draw in a breath, inhaling the scent of coffee, vinyl, and Rhys’s spicy scent wafting from his place beside me. I needed the comfort this place brings.
Life has been a whirlwind.
After the two games I spent with the Metros, they sent me down to the Slash. But I was only back with my old team for five days when the Metros called me back up. It’s been ten days since that call. It feels great to be wearing a purple star on my jersey again.
They brought me up because Nicklas, Maxim and Quinn’s line mate, took a skate blade to the thigh. He’s expected to be out at least six weeks, which is the rest of the Metros’ regular season.
In the three games since I’ve been back, I have four goals and three assists. I’m on a bit of a hot streak. By all accounts, I should be on top of the world, but it’s a stressful place to be too. If my production slows, will the team send me back down again? I don’t want to find out.
The music from the speakers changes to an acoustic guitar accompanied by a man’s soulful voice. Tapping my hand against my thigh, I flip through another row of albums.
Head bent, Rhys looks through the neighboring row. The white sweater he wore the night we met stretches across his torso. There’s no trace of the stain.
Grinning, he holds up an album. “What about this one?”
“Whale songs? The fisherman’s sweater is getting to your brain, Cap’n.” Laughing, I shake my head. “If I do that, the guys won’t let me play DJ ever again.”
Tomorrow is my turn to pick the music in the locker room. I can’t decide what to play. He’s hoping to find something that inspires me.
“They will, but it might take them a few months.” Rhys playfully bumps his shoulder into mine. “My next turn, I’m doing sea shanties. With their joking about this sweater, they’ve brought it upon themselves.”
During our road trip to Arizona and Colorado this week, I snuck into his hotel room to sleep. Being in his arms soothes me on a level I’ve not experienced before. And when I woke, it was to his arms banded around me.
He pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans, checks the notification, and laughs. “Maxim is bitching about Jonas picking the worst movie of all time tonight. They’re out with Quinn and Pierre. The movie isn’t helping Pierre’s mood either. He’s still bummed about Evgeny being traded.”
“Understandable. He lost his seatmate on the plane and will be playing Solitaire on the road trips until he finds a new card partner.” I put back another record. Losing teammates who’ve become friends is never easy.
Like Evgeny, lots of players across the league were on the move this past week, due to yesterday’s NAPH’s trade deadline. Several clubs added new faces, along with placing a bunch ofplayers on waivers or sending them down to the PHL. The Metros did it too, sending some players to the Slash.
No one wants to be sent down. And the ones that are, desperately want to get back.
Rhys holds up another record. “What about an 80s metal band?”
“That’s a possibility.” Leaning into him, I trace my finger over the list of songs. “I think I have one of their albums at home.”
“Is it one that belonged to your parents?” He slips his arm around me.
We talked more about our families the other day, sitting together in the big leather chair by my balcony, while I played my guitar. Then he made me waffles topped with ice cream and we ate that in bed.
“Yeah.” I pick up another from a few rows over and hold it up. “Maybe pop divas instead.”
“Jonas would like that.”
My phone vibrates in the front pocket of my jeans. Since being added to the Metros’ players chat, my phone is always going off between that one and the one with my housemates. I’m still part of the Slash chat, but muted it because the overall volume of texts was overwhelming. I check the screen. Two messages in the housemates chat.
