Page 48 of Hooking the Captain
I shrugged, feeling the weight of the loneliness that had been crushing me for weeks. “I just miss home, I guess.”
She reached out and ran her hand over mine. “I know it’s been a short time since we met, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I took another sip of my beer.
“My place isn’t far from here,” she advised, her hand moving up my arm. “Do you want to head over there so we cantalksomewhere quieter?”
I hesitated for a moment, but the alcohol had loosened my inhibitions. “Sure.”
“Hey, I’m going to take off,” Kaylee said to the rest of our group as I stood and grabbed my jacket. “Ford offered to walk me home since it’s getting late.”
“See ya Monday,” James said, while Ben gave us a head nod.
“Have a good night,” Robin called out.
Kaylee took my hand and led me toward the exit. We stumbled out onto the street, and she turned to me, her eyes dark with desire. Before I could stop myself, my lips met hers in a kiss, but a couple of seconds later, I pulled away. It felt wrong to kiss someone else when my heart still wanted Coop.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” I said, not wanting to admit I was thinking of someone else. “We’re coworkers.”
Kaylee nodded and stepped back. With a sigh, she said, “You’re right. It’s probably better if we just stay friends.”
“Let me still walk you home,” I offered instead.
She smiled at me gratefully. “That would be nice.”
After ensuring she made it inside her flat safely, I pulled out my phone to get directions back to my place. But instead, my thumb hovered over my texting app. With the pints of beer I’d consumed giving me some liquid courage, I typed out a simple message and hit send.
I miss you
13
COOP
In the eightyears I’d been playing professional hockey, I’d never had an injury that put me out for more than a few games during the season.
Until now.
The hit I had taken in the first preseason game broke my collarbone, which benched me for six weeks. This coming Saturday, I was finally going to start to skate again. Getting to skate on the ice again would be rehab and getting my strength back, but I was willing to do anything that didn’t involve me sitting on my ass and watching TV.
My parents had come to Boston for a few days to celebrate Thanksgiving and had left early in the day because I was attending Friendsgiving with some guys from the team, mostly the single ones or the guys who didn’t have family in the area. We did it every year. Even the non-American guys joined in on the celebration because it was a chance to hang out together. This year, we’d set it for the day after Thanksgiving, and since we (or rathertheysince I wasn’t playing) had a home game in two days, it was a good time to get together.
Standing in front of my bathroom mirror wearing only a towel around my waist, I was fresh out of the shower when my phone buzzed with a text.
I miss you
I stared at the three words on the screen, not sure what to do or how to respond. I hadn’t heard from him since the night I had been hurt back in October, and I thought he’d moved on. I wanted to text him that I fucking missed him too, but what was the point? He was over three thousand miles away and Hayden and Tyler hated him. Plus, even if we were together, I was about to have a grueling schedule once I returned from the injured reserve.
Instead of replying to him, I set my phone down and finished getting ready for Friendsgiving.
The aromaof roasted turkey wafted through the air as I entered Butcher’s high-rise apartment a few blocks from mine. It was the designated venue for our Friendsgiving feast every year because he liked to cook. The entire place buzzed with laughter and conversations as my hockey buddies gathered around the cozy fireplace with drinks in their hands.
“Coop, you brought the cranberry sauce, right?” Butcher shouted from the kitchen, his chef’s hat slightly askew.
“Of course, Butch. Can’t have Thanksgiving without Mom’s sauce,” I replied, waving the bowl like a trophy. My mother had made a double batch of her delicious cranberry sauce for me to bring.
“Your mother is an angel.” Butcher grabbed it from me.
“Do you think these guys would care if it came out of the can instead?” I hooked my thumb toward Sexton, Kingston, Orlov, Nyström, and Friberg, who were already diving into appetizers.
