Page 103 of Pucked Up Plans
I step an inch closer, wanting to touch her but not pushing my limit. Parroting her words from a few days ago, I plead, “It’s yours for the taking any time you want.” Then I include a caveat of my own. “Onlyyours, Tate.”
A flash of concern swipes over her face. The need to protect her, show her she’s mine, is fierce.
“Why would she say it if it’s not true?” The uncertainty is back, but this time, it’s not so much directed toward me but the girl.
Despite the absurdity of the situation, I don’t have to think too hard for a reason. “Because she’s jealous. Because she’s a bitch. But mostly because she wants a piece of the action, to ride the Keeley cockcycle, but will never get the opportunity.” Taking a bigger chance, I grab her wrists, bringing her nearer to me. It’s a good sign when she doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t want any of them, Tate. Even if I did—which I don’t—it would be a means to an end, a onetime thing.” I repeat those words slowly, allowing them to sink in. “One. Time. Understand I want more with you. Today was not enough.” I allow her the time to process, hoping she undoubtedly accepts my point. “Please believe me. I’ll do whatever’s necessary to prove to you how serious this is, how much I want this between us. How muchyoumean to me.”
“Walsh, I…”
My finger to her lips cuts her off. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I go for broke. “Not here. Give me tonight at the very least. I’m not ready to say goodbye to you when I drop you off.”
Her head nods the slightest bit. “Okay.”
“Fuck.” I wrap her in my arms, waves of tension rolling off me with the action. As crappy as it feels dealing with this, holding her feels right. Like it’s something I’m meant to do.
And not just in this moment.
Tate moves her head away and peers up at me with sad eyes. “Is it time for us to leave yet?”
I don’t even pull out my phone. Not caring the auction hasn’t ended yet—not like I bid on anything—I lead her over to my coach. He’s finishing up with a man, most likely some influential bigwig in the community. I wait until he’s finished before speaking.
“Hey, Coach. I have to head out.” I give no reason because I’m not about to lie in front of Tate when I’m proving she can trust me. He shakes my offered hand.
“Walsh, see you at practice on Sunday.” He then reaches out to Tate, who doesn’t hesitate to shake his hand. “Tate, nice meeting you. Hope to see you at a game soon.”
She’s no doubt startled by the fact he remembered her name. But that’s Coach. As great of a coach as he is, he’s a people person at heart.
“Nice to meet you. I’ll try to make it to the rink.”
My ears perk up at her comment. I’ve only been trying to get her to come to a game for a month. The woman is full of excuses.
We bid farewell to a few more teammates before grabbing our jackets from the coat check. I help her into hers without conscious thought, not to demonstrate a point, but because it’s something I’d do anyway.
Once the sun went down, the bitter cold characteristic of Vermont winters rolled in. I tuck Tate into my side as we walk tothe car. She seems to be over what happened earlier, or at least feeling better about it. Or me. Or she’s just cold and wants my warmth. The walk to the car is just long enough for the wind to whip through.
“Sorry I don’t have a car starter,” I apologize as I hit the button to unlock the doors.
“I drive a ten-year-old Honda Civic. I barely have heat.”
Her comment evokes something deep within me. As much as I hope she’s not serious, it still rattles me. “I hope you’re kidding.”
Her hand on my arm, she smiles tenderly. “Relax. I am. The heat works fine, but I’m worried a little about the snow. We got some in Kansas, but nothing like Vermont. A new car isn’t really in my budget this winter.”
“At the very least, you’ll need snow tires.” I add “put snow tires on Tate’s car” to my mental running list of things to do in the next week.
“Okay.”
The drive to her place is quiet. While it’s not entirely unpleasant, it’s not entirely comfortable either. If that doesn’t change by the time we arrive at her place, it’s going to be a long night.
The silence continues while I park and we head inside. After making sure the door is locked, she slips down the hall to her bedroom. My first instinct is to follow her but quickly think better of it. If she needs space from me, I can give her that.
I flop down on the couch and dig my phone out of my pocket. There’s a text from Meg with a picture of Lennon sleeping the wrong way in her bed.
Adorable. You’re dropping her off at 3 tomorrow?
She conked out early like this. Didn’t even stir when I changed her into PJs.
Yes, we’ll be there around 3
