Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(49)

After dealing with that kind of crap for four years, I, uh, decided I could handle some awkward conversations with and about a boyfriend’s kids.

Or maybe that was just easier to think about than dwelling on my pre-opening game jitters. Not that I still got those every single season, just like I absolutely wouldn’t be throwing up in the locker room before warm-ups tomorrow. Nope. Not me. Never.

After I’d made myself some dinner, I sat on the couch with an icepack behind my knee. There wasn’t an injury there—just some soft tissue that liked to get achy when I was pushing myself farther than I should. It was my body’s way of saying, “Hey, you want to back off a bit before something breaks?” I’d learned the hard way a few times—okay, more than a few times—to listen to that particular signal. The night before the season opener seemed like a good time to baby it instead of doing something stupid and benching myself.

So, with my leg on ice and a cold beer in my hand, I texted Geoff.

Ok to FaceTime?

When his kids were around, sometimes we kept it to texts. Other times, if they were doing homework in another room, he’d FaceTime with me, though he’d keep the conversation fairly quiet.

He responded almost immediately to my text with a FaceTime request.

I accepted, and a second later, Geoff’s face appeared on the screen, and even the icepack and the beer bottle couldn’t temper the rush of heat through me. He looked damn good any way I’d seen him so far. In his patrol uniform. Dressed casually. His clothes rumpled and unbuttoned while we tried to make out and strip each other at the same time. Naked, of course. Lying in my bed, the morning sun warming whatever skin wasn’t covered by sheets, with a dusting of salt and pepper on his jaw? Oh hell yeah.

And on my phone’s screen, looking tired but relaxed? Yep. Still looked good. Just like always.

I cleared my throat. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Not bad.” He sat back, a hand behind his head on his headboard, and he grinned. “Ready for tomorrow?”

“Ugh. Ask me again after the first period.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Nerves always fuck me up before the first game of the season. Once I get into the swing of it, I’ll be all right. What about you? How was your day?”

“Utterly uneventful, which is really good in my line of work.”

“Oh yeah. I guess you don’t want a lot of excitement, do you?”

“Not really, no.”

God, could our conversation be any more boring and benign? And could I possibly love it more? It was kind of like Geoff’s job—exciting wasn’t necessarily a good thing. After four years in a volatile relationship, I was a hundred percent onboard with boring.

We wouldn’t be able to see each other tomorrow because he had his kids with him, but we agreed to play the rest of the week by ear.

“It’ll probably be like this until the season’s over,” I said. “Which kind of sucks, not being able to see each other as often. I’d really been enjoying this.”

Geoff smiled. “Me too. But I’ve spent almost thirty years at the mercy of either the Marine Corps or the police department. I’m used to working around a demanding schedule.”

“Still. And…” I hesitated.

His smile fell, and deep crevices formed between his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Just, um…” I focused on adjusting the icepack under my knee. “It’s weird, I guess. This will be my first season without Nathan.” I paused and quickly added, “Which is good. Really good.” I released a long breath, and couldn’t help smiling. “God, it’s going to be nice to be able to focus on hockey and not the asshole in the stands.”

“Yeah, I bet. But it’s bugging you because it’s different?”

“A little, yeah. I guess. It’s so weird.” I shook my head, meeting his gaze on the screen again. “I’m thrilled he won’t be there, but we’re all superstitious as hell. Changing anything throws us off a bit, you know?”

“So you’ve said. Even having your ex-boyfriend gone?”

“Yeah. It’s good, but it’s different, and different fucks with all our heads.” I shrugged. “Hell, last season, the stadium owners repainted the lockers, and I swear half the team wigged out.” I chuckled. “What can I say? We’re weird.”

Geoff laughed, which made me shiver. “Eh, there’s a lot of pressure to win. Can’t really blame you for having superstitions.”

“Right? I’ll be okay tomorrow, though.” I grinned. “But I might be a little distracted.”

His eyebrow rose. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But this is a good kind of distracted. Something to look forward to after the game.”

Geoff returned my grin. “So no pressure, right?”

I laughed. “No. No pressure.”

“Is it bad luck to tell you good luck?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, in that case…” He smiled. “Good luck tomorrow night.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll have to download the Steelheads’ schedule. See if I can get some tickets.” He paused, brow furrowing. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t come to your games.”