Alex (Cold Fury Hockey, #1)(40)

“Will you watch me play while I’m gone?” he asks with some trepidation.

Pulling back so he can see my face, I tell him, “Absolutely. I’ll be screaming for you here in my living room.”

“I’ll call you after I get back to the hotel after our game tomorrow night,” he tells me, then leans in softly to place a feather of a kiss to my lips. I’m beyond warmed by the fact that Alex is being such a gentleman, and completely mortified that I don’t want him to be.

Which makes me curious.

“Where did that prick go that I met that first day in my office?”

Alex’s eyes cloud just a little, even though he gives me a smile. “He’s probably still there, Sutton. I’ve been a prick far longer than I’ve been charming. You’re seeing a new side to me, but you know the old is bound to come out.”

I cock my head to the side and say, “We all have days when our monsters come out, Alex. You’re not going to scare me off if I see yours.”

“I’ll be careful not to show you my true monster,” he quips as he steps out of the embrace.

Turning to reach for the doorknob, I lay my hand on his arm gently. He stops and glances back at me.

“I’m serious, Alex. You won’t scare me…I’ve seen a lot of stuff.”

“I’m not worried about scaring you. I’m worried about hurting you,” he says with a haunted look on his face. “But not enough to warn you away. The bastard part of me is okay with you taking that risk.”

“Always painfully honest,” I murmur as he opens the door and steps across my threshold.

“Always,” he says as he turns toward me to shut the door. But he gives me a smile and a wink, and it lightens the mood. “Lock the door behind me.”

“Okay. Safe flight tomorrow.”

Then he’s gone.

I lock the door dutifully and shuffle my way back to my bedroom, checking my email briefly on my iPhone. I’m startled when my phone buzzes with a text from Alex.

Sitting in your driveway, wishing I hadn’t left.

My fingers type furiously back to him.

Me too. I’m so bad.

I don’t wait long for his response.

The wait will make it better. Promise. And I like you being bad.

Sitting down on my bed, I lean back against it, clutching my phone to my chest. I want to text him—no, call him—and tell him to come back inside. I’m not sure I ever wanted something this badly before…except there was a time in my life when I wanted so badly for my dad to quit using drugs. But then I realized that was beyond my control and was nothing more than hopeful wishing.

Running my thumbs over the phone, I text him back.

It will make it better. Agreed. And you can see my bad side some other time.

Alex’s text back is short.

Looking forward to it. A lot.

Smiling, I set my phone down on the bed beside me, and close my eyes…savoring this evening.

Then they pop back open with insight and determination.

Picking my phone back up, I dial Brandon and wait for him to answer. I’m going to tell him that he and I will never move past the friendship we have been trying to build again. I can’t let him go on believing that the possibility of something more exists. I can’t lead him on in any way. Because—after tonight with Alex—there is no way I could ever have something with Brandon. That is brutally clear to me right now.





Chapter 13


Alex


Sitting on the bench in the visitors’ locker room, I contemplate sending a text to Sutton before I get dressed for tonight’s game. We’ve had a successful road trip so far, winning three of the last four, and tonight’s a very important game. If we win, we’ll take over the leaderboard for first place in our division. It’s a standing that didn’t mean much to me just shy of a month ago.

But now?

Now I want this win very badly.

And I think I want this win because of Sutton. When I talked to her last night, she wanted me to explain how the league was broken down and how teams earned points for the rankings. She got so excited when I told her that we could take over number one in our division, f*ck if I don’t want to get that win for her.

I want to give it to myself too, because in a miraculous change, I’m starting to like the game again.

Do I love it? No.

And every time I get another voice mail from my dad following a game, it causes the loathing and bitterness to rise. The one I got just this morning is a prime example. He’s well aware of the importance of this game to the Cold Fury. So when he called this morning, I promptly ignored it and then was an immediate glutton for punishment by listening to his message.

Alex…tonight’s an important game. You need to rise above your petty differences with me. I know you don’t listen the way you should, but your old man knows a thing or two about hockey. I expect nothing less than perfection from you tonight. Don’t screw it up.

I really, really wish for the day that I can listen to these pearls of wisdom and just laugh about it, but that day is nowhere in the near future. I wanted to hurl my phone across the room and crush his arrogant, demeaning voice right out of the microchip processors inside. Instead, I did what I always do. I pushed delete, stewed on it for a few hours, and then let it go.