Alex (Cold Fury Hockey #1)(82)
I wait for it, and wait for it, and wait for it.
But it never happens. Instead, the tingle dulls and while a light feeling of warmth remains behind, an ache centers in my chest, folds in on itself to a focused intensity, and throbs with drum-like precision.
It’s the pain of realization that I don’t love Sutton back.
At least I don’t think I do. Otherwise, why didn’t the joy leap free? Why did my heart become pained instead?
I search for the feeling again, will it back to life.
I’m left empty.
Sutton stares at me, the twinkling lights from the Christmas tree dancing in her eyes. She’s not waiting for the words to come back to her. I know this because I see no expectation or disappointment in her gaze. I only see love, and care, and tenderness. I only see her waiting for me to accept her gift with absolutely no assumption that she’s going to get something in return.
She’s the most f*cking amazing and selfless person I’ve ever met, and it has never been more clear that I am the most unworthy person for her.
I should let her go…right now, right this very minute.
But I’m a selfish bastard and I’m not going to do it. I’m going to keep her until I’m ready to destroy her, and then I’ll just add that to the pile of guilt I’m already suffering under.
Chapter 26
Sutton
“Stop fidgeting,” Alex tells me. “You look nervous.”
“You’re fidgeting too,” I point out dryly.
“That’s because I’m nervous. I don’t do shit like this.”
Laughing, I hook my arm through his elbow and we wind our way through the party guests. “It will be fine. Just smile, make small talk and drink a few beers to relax.”
Alex is admittedly nervous because he doesn’t socialize with his teammates. Or, at least he hasn’t in the past. I’m definitely nervous because this is the first time I’m meeting the rest of the team and their significant others, and I feel like a spotlight is on me. Especially since I know Alex’s former flame was transparent in her quest to land a hockey husband. I just don’t want anyone to think that about me.
Kelly and Mike Malone are having an Ugly Christmas Sweater party. This is apparently the second year they’ve hosted it and it’s adults only. According to Alex, it’s one of the few times the team gets together sans children and parties it up hard. He’s already assured me he is designated driver, which doesn’t surprise me, and he’s told me to tie one on if I want. Alex rarely drinks more than two beers, and I have to wonder if that’s because of his father’s problems.
We wind our way through the throng and into the kitchen where an entire bar of wine, beer and every liquor on the face of the earth is set out. Kelly is standing there with a group of women and when she sees me her face lights up.
Coming around the kitchen island, she reaches her arms out for a hug. “Sutton…I’m so glad you came. And your sweater is a hoot.”
Looking down briefly and then stepping into her hug, I give a grin. My sweater is pretty hideous. It’s bright red and green with an embroidered fruitcake on the front and a red bow that’s made of some type of shaggy red material that poofs out across my chest. Alex took one look at me when he picked me up and demanded I change. I told him to kiss my butt—it was an Ugly Sweater party, after all.
After releasing me, Kelly turns to Alex and playfully punches him on his bicep. “How come you’re not wearing a sweater, Alex?”
“Uh…yeah, I don’t do ugly sweaters,” he says seriously and Kelly gives him a mock glare.
“Party pooper,” she says and then lays her palms on his shoulders and pushes him out of the kitchen. “Go. Find the boys. Go play and do whatever you boys do together. I’m stealing Sutton.”
Alex doesn’t budge at first and shoots a panicked look to me. He really doesn’t want to be here but is making the effort to be sociable. I know he’d feel more comfortable with me by his side. I almost feel sorry for him, but then realize that this will be a good learning experience.
Giving him a little wave with my hand, I say, “Shoo. Go play.”
The look Alex gives me is priceless. It says, The only playing I want to do is with you…in the bedroom.
But he takes it like a man, shoots me a grimace as he grabs a bottle of beer out of a large ice bucket on the kitchen floor and leaves.
Kelly takes my arm and turns me around to the gaggle of women hovering. She makes introductions and I’m relieved that everyone is gracious and warm. There’s the team captain’s wife, Mely Brassard, a petite Midwestern former college cheerleader who has plenty of pep and feels it’s her duty to cheer on all of the players’ wives and girlfriends. I like her immensely and you can see she’s sort of the glue that holds them together. There’s also Karen Something-Or-Other, who I think said her husband is the backup goalie; Becky Couldn’t-Pronounce-Her-Last-Name-If-I-Tried, whose husband is from the Czech Republic; and Gina Toast—yes, Toast—who is like me, just a girlfriend of one of the players, but has been around for a very long time. She’s been dating Zack Grantham, a second-line left-winger, for six years and they have a two-year-old son together.
“I cannot tell you how happy I am to see Alex dating,” Mely says with a brilliant smile and a punctuated, singsong voice. Almost like she was—you guessed it—doing a cheer.