All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(8)

Owen puts his hand on mine and gives it a light squeeze. “That’s great, Bec.”

I nod. “It’s been fine so far. I’m good with talking to new people and meeting up for drinks. It’s just that every time things start to get physical, I freak out and make an excuse to leave.”

He frowns, squeezing my hand once more. “You went through some seriously bad trauma in your past. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to take things slow. It’s okay to say no.”

He sounds like my therapist. The one I stopped seeing because all she did was encourage my neurosis, and my progress stalled to a halt. I need someone who’s going to challenge me. Push me outside my comfort zone. Encourage me to move on. I can sense it deep in my bones that it’s the only way to move forward and reclaim who I want to be and the life I want to live.

“Slow is fine, but I feel like I’m not moving forward at all. It’s been six years . . .” I leave the rest of that sentence unfinished.

“Okay . . . so, what do you want to do about it? How do you feel you can move forward?”

“Well, I think I need some help. No, I know I need some help. Someone to push me over the edge. Someone I feel comfortable with. Someone who knows my history. That someone being you.” I grin cautiously at him, feeling optimistic but also way out of my element.

With Owen’s broad shoulders and massive chest, his ready smile and playful jokes, the guy just oozes sexuality. It comes so naturally to him. It sometimes makes me feel a little anxious around him, yet if he notices that I’m a woman at all, he’s never let on. But right now . . . he just looks confused.

Owen’s dark brows push together. “That’s your proposition?”

I nod.

“But how can I help?”

I shrug. “You’re the king of hookups. I thought you could teach me, coach me through getting back into the dating scene. Be my wingman. Talk me down from the ledge when I freak out. That kind of thing. I trust you, and I know you know what you’re talking about when it comes to all of this.”

He weighs my words as if I’ve just proposed an arranged marriage or something equally as outlandish. “Can I think about it?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, looking somewhat nervous.

What’s there to think about? I figured he’d give me an enthusiastic yes and be dishing up dating advice faster than I could blink.

The dryer buzzes, and I jump up quickly from the couch.

“I’ll grab your clothes,” I mutter, almost tripping over myself as I rush away from him. When I return, I hand Owen his clothes, and he goes into my bedroom to change.

When he emerges, he heads for the door and begins slipping on his shoes. “I have to get going. We have a team skate in a little while.”

I nod, following him to the door. “Thanks for the chat.”

He grins. “Of course.

I pull open the door and lean against the frame, watching him move past me. “Think about what I said. I know with you as my guide through the world of online dating, this won’t be as hard.”

Owen looks deep in thought, his lips pressing into a firm line as he heads out. He turns briefly to look back at me.

“I’ll think about it. See you soon, Becs.”





3




* * *





Rock, Meet Hard Place





Owen



I’ve never been this hard in my entire life.

Needing some distance, I jog down the steps from Becca’s apartment. Yes, I need to get to the rink, but mostly I just need some space from Becca to figure out what just went down. I walk back to where I parked my car and make the drive to the rink on autopilot, the entire time replaying our conversation in my head. I’m still trying to wrap my head around what she’s asking me to do.

Because my brain? It’s getting all kinds of crazy ideas. And every single one of them is not safe for work.

Last night with Becca, listening to her tell me that she’s thought about me—about us—that she uses a toy, that she’s scared to be physical with a man . . . that it’s been six years. Six freaking years.

It broke my fucking heart. But more than that, it did something to me.

I want to help her, but I’m selfish, because I want to be the one to do it. Not just get her ready to go on a date with some fucker she meets online. She has to see that would be the entirely wrong move here. One bad encounter could set her back another six years. I’m not going to let that happen. I can’t.

But I need time to put my thoughts together. She sprang this conversation on me—all while I was sitting there dressed in a ridiculous pink bathrobe.

I park my SUV behind the arena in the designated parking area and grab my hockey bag from the back. As I head inside to change, I force my thoughts away from Becca, but that doesn’t work out so well for me.

I start the practice by almost murdering like four people.

“Gird your loins, boys,” Teddy calls out as I sprint by him on unsteady skates. Teddy King is one of the best forwards on the team and a good friend of mine, but right now he’s in my way, and I waste no time moving around him.

“He’s on fire this morning,” Asher says. He’s the top line’s center and one of my favorite people on the team, but I don’t even bother with a hello.