Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(46)
He kisses me, softly at first, and then greedily. It’s late when we finally make it upstairs to bed. I don’t flail in my sleep. I can’t with Darren wrapped around me like a human blanket.
We’re shifting again, and I worry too much change too fast is dangerous. It creates fault lines and cracks. The kind I’ll get lost in and won’t find my way back out of.
CHARLENE
Chicago wins the game against Toronto with Darren scoring the winning goal. He should be happy about it, but he’s stoic instead. I want to chalk it up to game seven being in Toronto, but I’m sure it has to do with Alex.
We’re sitting at the bar after the game, and Darren has me tucked into his side, one arm thrown over my shoulder. He’s been quiet, smiling when people pat him on the back, but not saying much else. Which isn’t unusual. What is unusual is the number of times he tucks my hair behind my ear, or leans in to kiss my neck.
“So we’re all going to Toronto to cheer our boys on, right?” Violet says from across the table.
She told Alex last night that she’s pregnant, but she wants to keep it quiet until she’s through the first trimester. Considering how many weeks away that is, and how much he’s fawning over her like she’s an injured bird, I’m not sure the secret is destined to be kept.
I find out how right I am about five seconds later. “We can celebrate the end of the series and the fact that I’m going to be a dad!” Alex shouts. He’s a few beers into the night, so it’s hard to hold him too accountable.
Violet slaps his chest. “Alex!”
He cringes, then turns to her. “Sorry. Shit. I’m just so fucking excited. You’re going to be the sexiest pregnant woman in this history of the universe.”
There’s a flurry of excitement, and I stand, along with Darren. His mouth is at my ear. “Did you know?”
“I was with her when she took the test. Violet didn’t want me to say anything until she told Alex.” I feel as if I should apologize.
He squeezes my hand and nudges me forward. “You don’t have to explain. Alex told me this morning.”
I look into icy eyes that seem somehow soft and warm. “You’re not upset that I didn’t tell you?”
“She’s your best friend. You keep her confidence, as you should.” He strokes my cheek and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.
A moment later I’m swallowed up in Alex’s bear hug while Darren gives Violet a much gentler version of the same affectionate congratulations. I step back to let a teary Sunny hug her brother.
Darren slips his fingers between mine and pulls me into him. “It’s a weekend game; can you get an extra day off? I want the time with you.”
It’s as if he knows that this good thing is in some ways bad—like it separates us from them in yet another way.
“I can talk to my boss tomorrow,” I tell him.
“He’ll say yes.”
He’s not being cocky, not really. Our firm represents a number of Chicago players. Violet is married to the top earner on the team, and only two other players in the league have bigger contracts than Alex. Darren isn’t a slouch either, and Stroker handles his account directly. He’ll let us go.
By ten the following morning, we have the green light from Stroker, much to Jimmy and Dean’s dismay, and our plane tickets are booked. Darren wanted me on his flight, but I have to work on Friday, as do most of the girls, so we’re leaving in the evening, which means we’ll have all day Saturday to do fun girl things before the game.
When we arrive Friday night, the boys swarm the lobby and claim their significant others, leaving only the parents—of course Skye and Sidney came along, and Daisy and Robbie drove out from Guelph to be here—at the bar. It’s late, but Darren needs some release before I force him to go to sleep.
I check my phone around midnight to see what the rest of the girls are up to. Looks like I’m the last one to be done putting my hockey man to bed. I slip out from beneath the covers, find my clothes, and tiptoe to the bathroom so I can change without disturbing Darren.
It’s after two by the time I come back to the room. Lily and I drank too many cocktails while we talked lingerie. Skye and Daisy were far more sauced than us though, having been in the bar all evening. I’m not as quiet or coordinated as I’d like to be as I strip down. I try to find my pajamas, but it’s too dark, and I don’t want to risk waking Darren, who’s curled around my pillow.
I pull his discarded shirt over my head and slip between the sheets as stealthily as possible. He shifts as soon as I’m under the covers, but he’s still hugging the pillow, so it bars his way. Darren grunts his displeasure, groggy and only half aware as he struggles to get near me.
I turn to face him, settling a gentle palm on his cheek. “Let me help.”
He hums and his limbs go lax, eyes fluttering open for a second before falling closed again as I replace the pillow with myself. Darren sighs and buries his nose in my hair. His arm comes around me, fingers splayed across my stomach. They travel up, between my breasts, skimming my collarbones until he reaches the pearls. He follows the strand, curling his fingers around my shoulder, thumb resting in the hollow of my throat.
I close my eyes and relax into his warmth. I want to hold onto this protected feeling, but it’s terrifying. I crave this closeness with him, and when he’s sleeping it feels safer, because it’s unconscious on his part. I don’t have to face it the way I do in the waking hours.