by Elise Faber
He inhaled, but she kept talking.
“And I’m so sorry that I haven’t made that clear, that I made you doubt, that I didn’t—” Her voice cracked.
“Mom,” he whispered.
She cleared her throat, voice going brisk. “And I know you’re on the plane and aren’t really supposed to talk on the phone, so I’m going to hang up now. But that doesn’t mean that what I just said isn’t true.” A breath that rattled through the speaker of his earpiece. “And it doesn’t mean that I’m not getting on a plane and coming out to San Francisco as soon as possible for us to talk about it in person, okay?”
“Mom,” he whispered again.
“Okay?” she repeated.
“Okay,” he said.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he murmured before hanging up and sitting back, his heart pounding, eyes sliding closed. The words washed over him, settling inside, and he felt the wound in his heart start to stitch closed. It wouldn’t go away with a few conversations, he knew that. But it was on the way, and he also knew that he’d continue to work on it.
Because he wanted to live without that spike jabbing at him. He wanted to be whole, so he could move forward.
With Dani.
He was going to move forward.
With Dani.
Determination washing over him, he glanced up the aisle and saw Fanny staring at him, concern on her face. He nodded, mouthed, “Thanks.”
She smiled, nodded, mouthed back, “Family.”
Another blip in his heart, more of that wound stitching closed. Because she was family, just as the team was, and he was finally understanding that his place in it was more than professional. It was family. Truly. Not just something that was said on the surface or a good sound bite. They saw his value, and he was doing them a disservice to not see the same.
Another understanding came on the heels of that one.
If he kept the team out of this, if he kept their family out of his attempt to win Dani, he’d miss out on this. On the family coming together, looking out for one another. He’d miss out on the little insights from some of the people who knew her best, on the advice from his friends who’d won their own happy endings, on the kick in the ass he needed when he was feeling defeated.
This didn’t need to be a victory he earned on his own.
He could—and should—use every tool in his toolbox.
Flipping the page in his notebook, he began a list.
The first item was Hot Tamales, followed by the types of junk food she’d bought during their grocery shopping outing, during their time together over the last weeks. Luckily, he paid attention to everything that was Dani-related, so within a few minutes, he had a decent list. Or at least, he had enough information to feed her.
That was a start.
He spent a few more minutes not working on his term paper as he probably should be doing, but instead making a list of questions to ask Fanny, ideas of things to do to win Dani over, other people he needed to pump for information—Brit, for one, Max, for another (the two biggest gossips around), and Kevin, for a third (because Ethan probably needed to admit that clearly he wasn’t the best at romance and again . . . more tools for his toolbox).
By the time he’d filled a couple of pages and his eyes were burning enough that he knew he should give it a rest, he decided that he’d done enough planning for the moment.
He closed the cover, capped his pen, began stacking books, and—
Froze.
Because Fanny hadn’t just been organizing.
The woman had deposited a box of Hot Tamales on that tray table, hidden amongst the books like an Easter egg.
Burning eyes forgotten, he ran a finger along the edge, smiled.
And then he pulled out a piece of paper, wrote a note, and tucked both into his bag.
He’d arrange for a special delivery later.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dani
It was an hour until game time, and she was feeling absolutely wretched.
Since that night in Baltimore, since the brief interaction on the plane, she hadn’t seen Ethan.
He’d disappeared while she’d waited for her bag.
And when she’d found his room number, had finagled a key by begging, borrowing, and stealing, he hadn’t come back to his room, even though she’d slept in his bed and had waited.
She’d bungled things.
Badly.
She needed to make them right.
Only, she didn’t know how. And now, she was trying to find a way to make it all right. But how the hell was she supposed to make it all right if she couldn’t even lay eyes on the man she loved?
Hell, twenty minutes ago, she’d even gone to the locker room, prepared to announce her love to the entire locker room if need be.
But she’d gotten to the door, found it was locked to everyone outside of the players, and had come back to prep for the game, her wretchedness rising by the second. How was she supposed to focus on her computer when she couldn’t tell the blasted man that she was fucking in love with him?
Groaning, she rested her hands on her head, her elbows on her desk.
Knock. Knock.
She dropped her hands, glanced up, and saw Kevin lounging outside the door to the office she’d commandeered. A far cry from her plush space back at the Gold Mine, it nonetheless did the job.
“H-hey, Kev,” she managed.
He smiled. “How’s it going?”
Her lungs felt tight, small talk with the gorgeous, built man not easy, especially when it felt as though her heart had been pierced straight through. Still, he was one of the biggest teddy bears on the roster, so she got over her shy, her pain, and spun her chair to face him. “I’m good.”
Ugh.
She was so not good.
“Dani?” Kevin asked, tone concerned.
Double ugh.
Now she was lost in fucking thought instead of focusing on the man in front of her. “Sorry,” she said, pushing out of the chair and moving toward the door. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.”
Her feet skittered to a stop. “Um . . .”
He held up a box. “I think this is for you.”
Turquoise paper. A pretty silver bow.
She shook her head. “That can’t be.”
He turned it in her direction so she could see there was an envelope taped to the top of it, and sure enough, her name was scrawled on the top in large, blocky letters.
“I—” Another shake of her head.
Kevin crossed over to her, pressed the small box into her hands. It rattled quietly, as though there were lots of small, hard things inside. “Go easy on him,” he said, once she’d wrapped her fingers around it. “The man’s just starting to learn the art of romance.”
“What—”
He winked, was gone a moment later, well before the faltering question made it past her lips.
Dani had been left alone in the quiet room when her watch buzzed. She glanced down to see it was her assistant, Jess, telling her she was ready and waiting for them to complete their pregame check. Jess stayed back in San Francisco on away games, their tag-teaming engulfing both coasts—or in this case, the Midwest and the West Coast.
She voice-texted back, asking for five minutes, able to hear that her tone was off, her words shaky, all because of a tiny, rattling box held in her hands, but beyond glad that the artificial intelligence wouldn’t pick up on her anxiety when it transcribed her words.
Technology was her friend.
For the moment, she had five minutes.
Sucking in a breath, staring at the box, debating opening it, she stroked the shiny ribbon for a few moments (which only further served to remind her of her fuck up with Ethan) before curiosity got the better of her and she slipped the bow off then tugged the envelope free. The flap was open a moment later, her fingers pulling out the note inside. As she processed the words, her lips curved up into a smile,
and she felt a giggle bubble up, mix with relief in her throat.
Sweetheart,
Wouldn’t want your body to get low on all that refined sugar.
-E
Then she ripped off the paper, her head shaking in disbelief at the contents of the rectangular-shaped box.
Hot Tamales.
Probably the single type of candy she loved that she hadn’t actually bought with him on their trip to the grocery store and only because she had already ordered a giant stash, one that filled up nearly an entire shelf in her pantry. A stash she’d bemoaned to Fanny about forgetting to hit up before they’d gone on the road trip—stupid feelings making her forget the important things in life.
Refined sugar.
Cinnamon.
Ethan.
But the appearance of this yumminess meant that Ethan had mind-reading abilities, either that or he’d snooped in her cabinets.
Or . . . Fanny had spilled the contents of her bemoaning on the plane.
There was a knock on the door before she’d delved too deeply into that, into what else Ethan might have learned over the last few days. She swiveled in her chair.
Mandy, one of the team’s trainers, stood there, warmth in her eyes and another box in her hands.
“This is for you,” she said, crossing the room and setting it on the desk next to Dani. A squeeze of her shoulder, no further words, and Mandy was gone.
More turquoise paper.
Another silver bow.
No note on the outside, but she discovered that was because the note was inside the box, folded and placed in a small silver and turquoise-speckled bowl that had been painted with, “Dani’s Candy.”
She unfolded it with shaking fingers, read it, and was . . . touched and hopeful and charmed . . .
And still just a bit scared.
Okay, a whole lot scared.
But also, a whole lot relieved. Because Ethan wasn’t avoiding her—or she supposed he was avoiding her, but he didn’t hate her. Rather, he was being sweet and sending her notes, and . . . God, she loved him.
Her fingers trailed over the slanted letters of the note, the crisp handwriting.
For your sugar stash.
-E
She ran a finger around the smooth, glazed edge of the bowl, and then, very carefully, she opened the Hot Tamales and poured in the inch-long red cylinders.
As she suspected, the box filled it perfectly to the top.
“How?” she whispered. “Why?”
But there was no one around to answer her quiet questions, so she spent the next ten minutes on the phone with Jess, going through their checks, making sure all would run as smooth as possible while the game was running.
And during this time, she was interrupted by no less than three more players.
First Max, who handed her a brand-new pair of ridiculously pricey Bluetooth headphones she’d mentioned wanting to Ethan in passing once. Then Coop, who came bearing her favorite coffee. And finally, Blue, a giant smile on his face as he deposited a box that turned out to hold the softest, cuddliest hoodie ever.
Yes, she put it on.
Yes, she drank the coffee while it was hot.
Yes, she synced the headphones with her laptop.
And . . . yes, she fought off the urge to storm the locker room, to grab Ethan and kiss him senseless. Barely.
Knock-knock.
She glanced up, jerking her hand away from the bowl and the smooth edge she kept fondling to see Brit standing in the open doorway in her usual pregame workout gear, worn during her warmup of running through the arena. She also wore a knowing smile and held yet another small package in her hand.
Christ, at this rate, Dani wouldn’t have any room in her luggage.
“What now?” she found herself snapping. Then immediately slapping her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled, the word muffled. “I . . .”
“Long day?” Brit asked.
She dropped her hand. “You have no idea.”
Brit’s brown eyes twinkled. “I will neither confirm nor deny any ideas held.”
Dani stuck her hand out. “Just give it to me, already. I don’t want Ethan’s mission to mess up your routine.”
“Who said anything about Ethan?”
“Brit,” she warned.
The tall blond moved toward her. “I’ve never seen you growly,” she teased. “If it’s because of the aforementioned certain yummy, bearded man, then I say it’s a good look on you.”
“You have your own scruffy, bearded man,” Dani muttered, lifting her hand.
One brow went up. “And so I should keep my hands off yours?”
Dani felt her cheeks warm. Thank God, her skin didn’t reveal her blush. “I didn’t say that.”
The second brow joined the first. “It was implied.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Brit pointed at the monitors. “Should we go to the tape?”
“You’re not funny.” A beat. “No, go get ready to make all sorts of pretty saves I’m going to chop up into awesome bite-sized replays.”
“For the record, I like you with attitude.” She squeezed Dani’s shoulder, turned away.
“What about the bag?” Dani asked when Brit started to leave with it.
“Who said it was for you?” A teasing question, but before Dani could start sputtering, embarrassment flooding forward to take hold, Brit plunked the bag down. “Ethan’s a good guy,” she said. “Love him. It’ll be good for you both.”
Then she was gone, the door clicking closed behind her.
“I’m trying to love him,” Dani muttered, tossing her hands up. “If only the damned man would stop avoiding me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ethan
“She seemed like she wanted to murder me,” Brit said, strolling into the locker room and plunking her ass onto the bench next to him. “I’m assuming you know what you’re doing?”
“Mad is better than running screaming for the hills,” he replied, picking up his skate and checking his laces, his edges.
Brit paused, head tilting from side to side as she considered that. “Okay, you may be smarter than I anticipated.”
He punched her on the shoulder.
Not lightly, because she didn’t appreciate her teammates going easy on her. But also not hard, because she was his goalie, and he needed those arms in fighting shape for the game.
She scowled. “Ow.”
“Liar.”
A beatific smile. “That’s true.” She clapped her hands together. “What was in my bag?”
He knew what she meant without needing her to clarify. He hadn’t told any of his “assistants”—as Kevin had termed them when he’d asked his friend’s advice for winning over Dani—what was in the packages, and thankfully they were nosy enough to just be happy about being part of the process, not needing to know every detail.
But Ethan had known that wouldn’t last.
And sure enough, Brit had that look. The one that told him she wasn’t going to let this drop, not until he gave her the dirty details.
He picked up the other skate, studied the edge, making Brit wait because he thought it was funny as hell that she was impatiently wiggling like a puppy on the bench next to him, curiosity threatening to make her burst.
Just before she got to that point, he set down the skate, turned to her, and said, “A bag.”
Her brows formed a little V on her forehead. “That’s cheating. I already know I gave her the bag.”
He chuckled. “No, Brit. The present was a bag.”
Her face screwed up. “Just to confirm, what was inside that cute turquoise bag was, in fact, another bag.”
His lips twitched. “Yup.”
“A fancy bag?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
More screwing up. “What kind of bag?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged out of his shirt, slipped into the skintight one he wore under his gear. “One of those ones with the openin
g at the top and the straps.”
“A tote bag?”
“Yup. That sounds right.” He unbuttoned his pants, shoved them down, and pulled on his jock.
“You had me deliver a tote bag.”
“Yup.”
“Just a tote bag?” she asked. “Without gold straps, and it wasn’t filled with diamonds or chocolate or anything, right?”
“No gold. No chocolate. No diamonds. Just a bag.”
“Brit! Stop snooping, and get your ass in gear!” Max yelled from across the room.
She scowled, jabbed a finger in his direction. “I can’t believe everyone else got to deliver cool things, and I gave her a lame tote bag.”
“She needed something to hold all the cool things,” he pointed out. “And also, the bag had a badger on it.”
More V-deepening in her brow. “A badger?”
“Because she’s fierce.” He smiled, didn’t share that it was also because she had a badger tattooed on her foot, just added, “Especially when cornered.”
Brit’s face smoothed out, shock in her eyes.
Then she nodded approvingly. “Yeah, Eth,” she said, punching him on the shoulder, “I am so glad I’m helping you with this.”
The game ended up in a shootout, one they’d lost, much to Brit’s consternation.
But the season was long, and they were in the early days yet. They always wanted the two points, but they’d take one, and a game where they’d ultimately played well, followed their system, even though the bounces hadn’t gone their way.
That happened sometimes.
The Hockey Gods weren’t smiling down at them, or whatever.
Still, they weren’t professional athletes because they liked losing. It stung like hell, especially in the close ones, but Ethan, at least, had gotten better at compartmentalizing it away. He’d have tape to watch, a practice or two to try and flush out those mistakes, and then they’d have another game in two night’s time.