Holdout: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Jaqueline Snowe

  The muscles along her jaw tightened as he walked away. She took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and blinked away any indication of pain. “Now I want a drink.”

  “What happened with that guy?”

  She blew out a breath so her lips made a raspberry sound and pushed her hair behind her ears. “We went out for a few months with very different definitions of what we were doing.”

  “He hurt you?”

  Her gaze moved to my face, the lines around her eyes softening for a second. “Yes. I’m over it now, honestly. The sting is there, but I think it’s more of an ego thing. We were together for about four months, and one day he stopped responding to me. There was no talk, no hey this isn’t working out, just… got a text that said he wasn’t interested since baseball started.” She blinked, and her eyebrows furrowed as she studied me. “I get that sports are important to athletes. But I never once had an issue with his schedule. I got it. I still understand it.”

  Her words started a flame of anger deep in my gut, the same rage that made my muscles clench when I thought about what my mom did. “Ryann,” I snapped, making her recoil. “He should’ve been up front with you. That’s on him. You of all people understand the time restraints required of college athletes.”

  “Oh,” she said. That one syllable made her red lips form an O shape, drawing my attention to how full and soft they looked. “You’re on my side.”

  “Did you think otherwise?”

  “I don’t know. You’re so focused with hockey, I thought maybe you’d agree with him because distractions aren’t allowed. I’m not sure.” She shrugged and gave me a crooked smile, like that would make it okay.

  It did not.

  Irritation prickled across my skin. “I would never side with anyone who thought leaving someone without a damn conversation was the best choice. Hard convos are preferred over nothing.”

  Like my mom.

  Ryann nodded, understanding dawning on her. She lifted her hand toward me for a second but let it hang by her side. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “We both need a damn drink.”

  It wasn’t quite a laugh, but her comment seemed to dissolve the tension coiled tight in my body, and I nodded. “You might be right.”

  We finished the walk to the hockey house, and music boomed through the walls as people hung out on the porch. Students held red cups and laughed, and the smell of stale beer and skunk hung in the air as we neared.

  “J.D.! Who would’ve thought? Dude,” Patrick said, jumping down from the porch and greeting me with a bro hug. “Little Reiner. My favorite Reiner sibling. Get over here.”

  She rolled her eyes, and her smile was forced when Patrick pulled her in for a hug. He picked her straight off the ground and swung her around until she smacked him.

  “Put me down, you idiot.”

  He grinned as he set her back on the ground and jutted his chin toward the house. “Come on, I’ll show you where the keg is. We all know that’s why you’re here. It isn’t to flirt with me, unfortunately.”

  She knew Patrick well, and seeing him touch her with ease sent an uncomfortable edge to my posture. But I didn’t think about it for long. Ryann followed him, leaving me to trail behind her. I didn’t mean to check her out. It just happened. The black shirt clung to her body, showing every curve, and the jeans molded against her in the best way. Something entirely new made my heart beat faster, but it didn’t last long when Michael Reiner walked into the entrance hallway and hugged his little sister.

  “Everyone knows I’m related to you and won’t hit on me. Don’t make it worse,” she said, laughing as she swatted at him. “Don’t embarrass me.”

  “It’s so easy though,” he quipped back, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

  “Stop it! You’re pretty much guaranteeing no one will talk to me. I came here to flirt and drink.” She shoved him away, and she fixed her messed up strands of hair.

  “That’s my goal forever.” He glanced down at his sister for a second before his gaze landed on me. “Hey, look who it is!”

  He moved from Ryann to me, holding out his fist for a bump. “Glad you could make it. Come on, let’s get you a beer, J.D.”

  Ryann winked at me before joining Patrick and his brother, Paxton. That left me to follow Michael. He led me through the living room where coeds laughed or sat cuddled up on one of the couches. The senior nodded to everyone—guys, girls, teammates, and people responded. He was one of those guys that people liked. His charisma and easy smiles translated over to his leadership on the team. He pushed us and made us better, but he wasn’t one of the alpha-assholes hockey often saw. How he brought people together made up for what he lacked in talent.

  He was a good guy, which meant letting my thoughts about his sister cross the line was unacceptable. I respected him and Ryann, and I needed to keep my unwarranted desires hidden.

  “Here we go.” Michael grabbed a cup, filled it up with beer, and handed it to me before doing the same for himself. “Cheers, J.D.”

  “Cheers,” I mumbled, feeling stupid and out of place. The back of my neck burned like everyone was watching me. I took a sip of the liquid, letting the bitter taste coat my throat and found him staring me with a curious look on his face. “I tried to have her move out,” I said, my voice cracking a bit.

  His jaw tightened, and he narrowed his gaze. “Ry doesn’t work that way.”

  “Yeah, figured as much.“ I shifted my weight to each foot, hating the situation. I took another sip of beer, my face burning at his silence and the irritation rolling off him. Ryann’s laugh carried over from the other room, and it baffled me how I knew the sound after one week. My gaze moved to her without my control, and Michael followed, his dislike obvious.

  “Let me explain two things to you.” He lowered his voice and waited until I looked at him before continuing. “My sister is my only family. Nothing bad can happen to her. She’s had some shit luck.” He paused, took a deep breath, and a line formed between his eyebrows. “I hate that she felt like she needed to solve her living situation without my help, but that’s done. She’s living with you now. If I push her, she’ll sink in further.”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t think for one second I’m cool with this. I’m tolerating it because she’s my sister and I love her.”

  “Right,” I said, my stomach hardening to the point of pain. He flexed his jaw before blinking, and the turmoil in his eyes disappeared like a snap of fingers.

  “I’m not bringing this shit to practice unless you fuck this up. That means no sleeping with her, no dating her, none of it. She’s off limits in every fucking way. That would change everything. Got me?” He smiled, the threat hidden beneath his eyes.

  “Yes.” I took another drink, his meaning quite clear.

  “Good. Now enough of that. Ryann would kill me if she knew we had this talk, so this never happened.”

  I nodded, my throat dry, and I chugged half of my beer. I rarely drank, and the dark amber liquid warmed my insides just a bit. I welcomed the feeling. It put Michael’s warning and my lingering thoughts of Ryann to the back of my mind.

  He left me in the kitchen with a wave to join some other guys on the team, and I finished the glass before filling it up again and returning to the main area of the house. Couples lined the walls, friends laughed, and some punk had one arm on the doorframe as he gazed down at Ryann. I squeezed the cup a little tighter at the way he leaned into her. Everything about her posture from the way she held her shoulders back to how she looked around the room every couple of seconds meant she was not into him.

  Yet he didn’t get the message.

  Her eyes widened a fraction when I approached, and I regretted it when they both looked at me. I had nothing to say. I opened my mouth, unsure how to explain my interruption, but Ryann took charge and smacked her head against her forehead. “Shit, we’re up next, aren’t we?”

  She gave the slightest nod, signaling me
to agree, and I did. “Yes. We are.”

  “Damn, well, it was nice seeing you, Mark. We’ll have to catch up again soon.”

  Mark nodded, but disappointment flashed across his features.

  Ryann winked at me before weaving her arm through mine. “Thank you. Now, let’s go kick some ass.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but the fact her warm skin pressed against mine made my thoughts funny. Would her brother see this and assume things? Was this an innocent gesture meant to confuse Mark? Where was she taking me?

  Our arms were touching. That was it. Yet… I felt her softness everywhere. My body tingled from being so close to her, and every shift of her muscles caused a ripple effect. My blood threatened to go south, so I focused on anything except her.

  The floor. The smell of stale beer. The screen door she pushed open.

  She led us out into the backyard where people hung out around tables, cheering loudly. Once we got onto the deck, she released me and looked up to the sky with laugh lines around her eyes. “Thank you for playing along.”

  “He made you uncomfortable.”

  Her smile faded, and she tilted her head to the side as she asked, “How did you know?”

  “Your posture. You didn’t like it much when Patrick hugged you either.”

  She pressed her lips together for a second. “You’re observant, Jonah. Not just when it comes to hockey.”

  My skin tingled with heat from the way she said my name, which was counterproductive to my talk with Michael. I waited a beat, found my focus again, and remained truthful. “You’re expressive. Anyone would notice if they were paying attention. It’s not that hard. Those guys should’ve realized it.”

  There, that sounded safe.

  “Ah, well.” She shrugged and took a sip from her cup. “Personal space is a thing for me.”

  “How so?”

  She moved to lean against the rail of the deck, lifting one foot to rest on the back of it while she pushed onto her elbows. She looked relaxed, and while this wasn’t an intended move to showcase her chest, her position amplified everything due to the way the light from inside carried out. The front of her shirt hung low, showing a hint of cleavage. My mouth watered. Why haven’t I hooked up in so long?

  Focusing solely on hockey seemed like a dumb idea with the lack of control I had over my thoughts of her. Damn it. I took a large sip of beer to cool off and waited for her answer.

  “When my parents died, everyone wanted to offer some sort of comfort. So many hugs, hand squeezes, people rubbing my back, that sorta thing. They meant well, but it was too much.” She eyed me over the rim of her cup, her blue eyes twinkling from the light, and she chuckled. “I haven’t shared that with anyone else. I keep it to myself because I figure it’s wrong to not want comfort.”

  “It’s not wrong or weird. It’s your space.”

  She hummed and glanced around the backyard, excitement making her bounce off the railing. “You’re not experiencing all the fun yet, but I know just the thing.”

  “I’m not having a bad time,” I said, wincing at how lame that sounded.

  She ignored me and bolted down the stairs, waving for me to come with her, so I did. It was hard not to follow when she smiled at me like that. She didn’t seem to notice how guys stared at her as she walked toward a table with eight other people. She had this energy, this thing about her that I couldn’t describe. Was it her smile? Her joy? Her blonde hair? Her way of still being happy despite the shit she’d lived through?

  “Can we join the game?” she asked. Her welcoming voice was smooth and settled me like hearing skates hit the ice.

  Some dude with a green hat and a piercing on his nose smiled. “Hell yeah. Each take a side.” His gaze moved to me, and his eyes widened. “Dude! J.D. is in the house! No way!”

  The small group cheered, and my entire body flushed with embarrassment. The guy wasn’t on the team, but he clearly knew most of the players. I waved a hand in the air, feeling dumb. I understood the thrill of being an athlete, a well-known guy on campus, but I didn’t get why people cared about me at all. I wasn’t interesting. I didn’t have a huge following on social media and certainly didn’t do anything remotely cool. I practiced and played my heart out on the ice. That was it. Patrick and Paxton were already drafted while Michael had a large following and made videos all the time. I was as cool as a white wall. But I forced a smile and lifted my hand at them, feeling like a total dork.

  “Huge fan, man. Can’t wait to see you play this season,” the guy said, pointing for me to join at the end of the table. “Your stats were great last season. Maybe we’ll win the Frozen Four this year.”

  “Thank you.” I stood at the end of the plastic table next to a girl who was a foot shorter than me. Ryann was across from me, her lips curved up in a smirk.

  Each person had a half cup of beer in front of them, and the two at the other end cheered with their cups, slammed the bottoms down on the table, and started chugging. The girl on my side of the table finished the beer in two seconds before placing her cup face-down. She then flicked the bottom of the cup, flipping it into the air so it landed right side up.

  My side of the table cheered. The person next to her repeated the process while the navy hat guy struggled to flip the cup. The process clicked. I understood the game and focused on the angles they used—how much the cup should lean over the edge of the table, how hard to flick it. My heart pounded as it neared my turn.

  The other side of the table caught up after the guy in the middle missed six times in a row. That meant it would be Ryann versus me. Competition flooded my veins, making everything laser-focused.

  The short girl flipped it on the first try. Score.

  I picked up my cup as Ryann did the same. She chugged, spilling some on her shirt in the process, and she finished before I did. I watched in horror as she flipped on the first try and missed.

  Thank god. I hated losing.

  I set my cup face down, flicked it, and on the first try, it landed. My side of the table jumped up and down and cheered, and I expected Ryann to be pissed.

  She wasn’t.

  “Good game, J.D.” She looked at the green hat guy. “Again?”

  We played three more times, my side winning three out of four, and Ryann grinned up at me as we headed back inside.

  “Does winning make you smile or is it the beer?” she asked, stumbling a bit. I didn’t think about it before reaching for her, wrapping my fingers around her forearm to settle her. She glanced up at me. “Oh, thank you,” she said, a little breathless.

  “Of course,” I said, my voice rough and deep, probably from the warm buzz of alcohol and not at all to do with the fact she didn’t recoil from my touch.

  She trusts me.

  I should remove my hand from her softness, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I kept it there to make sure she didn’t trip. That was why. But her gaze dropped to my hand, and I released her too fast. She wobbled again, and I had to grip her waist to prevent her from busting ass. “Shit, Ryann.”

  The entire side of her body pressed into mine, and she laughed. Her sweet giggle caused all sorts of inappropriate thoughts, which escalated when she leaned into me for a second. Her floral scent intoxicated me almost as much as the beer, and she grinned up at me, the tiny gap between her teeth and all. “Thanks for catching me.”

  “You’re tipsy.”

  “Yes.” She placed one hand on my chest, pushing off me with it, and a slight blush crept up her neck. “Are you?”

  “Am I what?” Thinking about how soft she feels? Yes.

  “Tipsy? Having fun? I really wanted you to have fun tonight, and it seems I got carried away.” She closed her eyes and swayed to the music. “Dancing. I love dancing.”

  She didn’t wait for me before moving into the house toward the make-shift dancefloor in the basement. I followed her, because what else would I do? Talking to people who I didn’t know sounded awful, and being around her gave me a level
of comfort. She knew my past and how important hockey was to me…I could be myself with her and didn’t have to worry.

  So, I trailed her, admiring her tight jeans and all, and blinked when we arrived in the basement. The meaning of her words hit me as I watched her sway her hips side to side. She wanted to make sure I had fun. Me. She tried for me.

  I stood frozen, unsure if I should walk us home, dance with her, or try to convince her to drink water. Maybe a combination of all three. But the way she moved her body made me feel like a moth to a goddamn flame.

  Dancing with her was too personal. Too much. Too everything. So, I waited, unable to take my attention from her until another guy approached. He slid in behind her, and what the hell?

  There was no reason to feel white hot anger when his hands went to her hips. I slammed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. She had every right to dance with anyone. I needed to get away from the dance floor before I did something stupid. She was my teammate’s damn sister, and I had no business wishing it was me holding her.

  7

  Ryann

  Dancing to the upbeat music released the pent-up something that took root in my stomach all day. Warm hands rested on my hips, and I moved to the beat, not thinking about running into Derrick, how attractive Jonah was when he relaxed, or how I’d regret having too much beer. Sweat pooled on my forehead by the time the song was over, and I thanked the guy who joined me for a few minutes.

  He grinned and moved onto someone else before I could blink. Fair enough. Some people used the dance floor as prime hook-up potential. If meaningless flings were my jam, then I’d probably do the same. After my life spun out of control when my parents died, I craved stability, and while flings could solve the loneliness for a night, they left me feeling empty. I liked relationships.

  I fanned myself by lifting the edge of my shirt to get air on my skin, and I scanned the crowd for Jonah. He’d followed me downstairs, that much I knew, but his large frame wasn’t sticking out anywhere. I frowned, hoping he didn’t head back without me, even though that seemed unlikely. While I didn’t know him well, I trusted him enough to assume he wouldn’t ghost me.