Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(30)

“Well, of course I do.” Without hesitating, I drop down to the floor and lie on my side, reaching for one of the extra cars.

And it is these moments, the welcoming smiles and the excitement in these kids’ eyes, that makes these visits the highlight of my week.



Two hours later, I make it home.

I’m mentally exhausted and a little down because I spent half an hour with Terrence, only to learn that he has taken a turn for the worse. The kid looked so frail lying in that bed. Although his eyes widened and a smile tugged at his lips when I walked into the room, the pain was still visible in the lines of his face. No kid that young should have to deal with that sort of pain.

We played cards while his mother sat in the corner watching us with a sad smile on her face. Terrence didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood, so I kept the chatter to a minimum. When it was clear the little boy needed to sleep, I said my good-byes and slipped out of his room. For the entire drive home, I pleaded with God to make the boy better.

The moment I walked into my house, I pushed it all out. The team, practice, the upcoming game, the hospital, all of it. If I let myself dwell on it all, I’d never get any rest, and based on the aches in my joints, I definitely need some downtime.

After grabbing a bottle of water, I drop onto the couch, sitting down for what feels like the first time all day. My legs are sore, and my right knee throbs, but I ignore the pain. It’ll get better as the days go by and I get more time on the ice. It’s only the beginning of the season, but I know for the next six months—hopefully more if we make the play-offs—this will be the norm.

For a few seconds, I allow the quiet of my house to settle around me. Although I don’t spend a lot of time at home, especially during the season, I did put a tremendous amount of effort in making it my space. From time to time, my brothers will come to visit, and it helps that the place I live in doesn’t feel like a museum. They like to give me enough shit as it is.

I grab my phone, skim my emails, but I don’t feel like answering them. I’m too tired, both mentally and physically.

During the off-season, I keep a fairly rigorous routine, but nothing compared to during the season, so it isn’t unexpected that the first few weeks—during and after training camp—are the most brutal. Things are underway, we’ve traveled for a few preseason games and are gearing up for the first game of the season on Friday. My body needs to acclimate and it needs to do so quickly.

On top of that, I am now expected to manage a pretend relationship with a woman I don’t want to pretend with. Ever since Ellie agreed, I’ve been having second thoughts. Not because I don’t want to get my hands on her, that’s for damn sure. But as much as I want that, I don’t want to damage the friendship we do have in the process. Ten years ago, I would’ve been gung-ho, probably already trying to get into her panties, but at this point in my life, I’ve mellowed some.

I still want to get into her panties, mind you, but I’m more than willing to work for the reward.

“We’ll figure it out,” Spencer told me when I admitted I was worried about this being hard on me and Ellie. “You settling down in a relationship will be big news, man. The media’s gonna go f*cking nuts.”

Pretend relationship, I reminded him. And that is the key. Since my brain doesn’t see anything pretend about it, I’m having to spend too much time worrying about it. And to think, we haven’t even set the plan in motion yet.

But Spencer and Amber are right about one thing. Once word gets out, the media will definitely be interested in the news, but that means I have to break it to them. At the moment, I’m not sure how to do that and not screw it all up.

I recall my conversation with Ellie yesterday at the rink. Admittedly, I don’t mind the whole pretend-girlfriend thing, but truthfully, I’m hoping it’ll turn into something more. Some might accuse me of manipulating the situation; I consider it grabbing an opportunity. If Phoenix and Coach think it’ll be good for my image, and potentially appease the nosy f*cking reporters and, most importantly, the fans, I’m game.

Spending time with Ellie Kaufman damn sure won’t be a hardship. I’ve been wanting this day to come for too long. Granted, I’ve envisioned it a little differently. Pretend wasn’t used to describe it, that’s for sure.

Regardless of how it has come about, it’s going to be on my terms, just as I told her. I don’t like the fact that Spencer has taken to dictating how this will work. He isn’t a damn saint, so it feels hypocritical that he’s focusing all of his energy on me. Then again, I can tell Spencer is worried about me. I lost my shit at the end of the season and it didn’t help anyone.

I pull up my Internet app and notice there’s a browser open and it’s on Facebook.

Strange.

I have an app for that, so I’m not sure why…

I glance at the name on the screen: Belle K.

Huh?

I glance at the profile picture. That’s … Bianca. So, who the hell is Belle K? For some reason, it sounds familiar. Her full name’s Bianca Noelle Kaufman. Ahh. It’s a combination of her first and middle names. Maybe that’s the thing these days, to not use a real name. Regardless, that is definitely her picture, and it makes sense because I loaned my phone to Bianca yesterday.

Looks as though Ellie’s daughter forgot to close it when she was finished, which is how I find myself looking at Bianca’s Facebook profile. Trying my best not to be nosy, I move my finger toward the little X at the top of the screen, but before I can get there, something catches my attention.