He clapped me on the shoulder. “I believe in you. We need you to step up if we’re going to win it all this year. Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t, Coach. I promise.”
“One more thing, your grades look pretty good. Do you spend a lot of time studying?”
“I do my reading, go to class, and take good notes. I’m lucky in that I remember stuff really well, so I have to do minimal studying compared to a lot of people.”
“Good. You and I will be working on some confidence-building exercises every day after practice starting in a week. In the meantime, I have homework for you.” He riffled through one of the piles and pulled out a dog-eared book titled How Bad Do You Want It? “I want you to read, take notes, and we’ll discuss and implement what you’ve read at our first session in a week.”
I blinked a few times, trying to process everything. I stared down at the book.
“I appreciate your help. Thank you.”
He laughed. “Don’t thank me. I’m doing this for the team. If you become the player I know you can be, you’ll bring the team up with you and challenge others to reach deep within and find that extra something they didn’t know they had. Even your brother.” He dug in his desk drawer and pulled out something. “Here, this will help.”
“What is that?” I stared at the rock necklace he’d placed in my hand.
“It’s a moonstone.”
“Okay.” I’d heard about Coach Garf’s fondness for rocks, but I’d avoided any such gifts from him until now.
“The moonstone is a crystal that increases clarity regarding your self-worth. Wear it always for renewed vitality and to energize your confidence.”
“Uh, thanks, Coach.”
He must’ve read skepticism because he explained further. “Crystals aren’t magic, but they do positively interact with your body’s chakra, or energy field. They’re just another tool in your tool kit.”
“Okay.”
He stared at me until I realized he wanted me to put it on. I did so, and he grinned.
“Thank you.” I nodded, we shook hands, and I walked out of the building clutching the book and feeling a hell of a lot better than I had going in.
4
The Challenge
Paxton
I glanced at my phone for the first time in a long while, having avoided the thing since I’d left Naomi’s dorm room early this morning. There were several text messages from various friends but multiple ones from Patrick and Naomi. I sighed and fought off the guilt that I was being disloyal to my brother by vowing to up my game.
As far as Naomi went, the humiliation was still too fresh to deal with her. I’d been dealt a severe blow, but despite my dented and crumpled ego, I didn’t want to lose her as a friend. I wouldn’t be able to bear the complete absence of her in my life, even if being around her tortured me with memories of our night together.
Instead of responding to her, I read Patrick’s last message:
Where the fuck are you? A bunch of us are at the Biscuit.
I wanted to ask if Naomi was there. Part of me hoped she was, while another part hoped she wasn’t. I considered crawling off to my apartment and licking my wounds, but I’d been licking them all day. Time to stand up and take my blows like a man.
On my way, I tapped quickly and hurried down the sidewalk toward the Biscuit in the Basket several blocks away. The Biscuit was a fave hockey team hangout, known for their cold beer and awesome chicken wings. My mouth watered and my stomach rumbled, reminding me how long it’d been since I’d eaten anything substantial. The soggy convenience-store English muffin I’d wolfed down this morning had long ago worn off.
I pushed open the door. The place wasn’t all that busy on a Sunday afternoon, but my teammates were sitting at our usual table and already consuming beer. A few empty pitchers littered the large table.
The chair between Patrick and Tate was open so I took it. Everyone always left room for me to sit next to Patrick. Today that rubbed me the wrong way. I hated being treated like an extension of Patrick rather than my own person. Shit like this was a good example of all the little things that happened throughout my day reminding me most people considered me one half of a whole, instead of my own whole.
Barely acknowledging my presence, Patrick chatted up the waitress, Carly, pouring on the charm. He’d been hustling her all semester with zero luck. Tate and Michael debated hockey trivia, as usual. Jonah and our goalie, Josh, had their eyes glued to the football game on one of the big-screen TVs around the room.
Carly took my wings order and hustled off, and Patrick turned his attention to me.
“Where’ve you been?” His tone was slightly accusatory and somewhat hurt. “You didn’t come home last night and weren’t answering texts this morning.”
While it wasn’t unusual for us to spend the night elsewhere without notice, we always checked in the next morning, as part of our unspoken twin code. I hadn’t done that.
“I was home briefly. You were passed out,” I lied.
“I didn’t hear you come in. Yeah, wild night last night. Last I saw, you weren’t feeling any pain.”
I nodded. No sense denying what everyone at this table had seen. Patrick’s gaze softened with understanding, and the last thing I wanted right now was anyone’s sympathy.
“I get it. That wasn’t one of your most stellar performances last night.”
Not on the ice it wasn’t, but the sex had been epic right up until she’d seen the number fifteen tattoo on my hip. Shit. I shuddered at how far this charade might’ve gone if she hadn’t seen it.
I banished those mortifying thoughts from my head. Tonight, in the privacy of my own bed, I’d go over the past twenty-four-plus hours again and examine everything in minute detail. Right now, I had other worries. Such as whether or not to tell Patrick about my deal with Coach Garf.
Even as I debated, I realized with a bit of a shock that I wasn’t going to tell him. We never kept secrets from each other. He even knew about my crush on Naomi, but I don’t think he realized how bad I had it and probably thought it was old news. He’d left her off his conquest list because of it.
This thing with Coach was personal, and I didn’t know if he’d take it well or read something different into my desire to up my game. I’d always had his back on the ice, and this possible change in our status might be perceived as a threat. Even worse, he might laugh it off and deflate my severely deflated ego all the more.
My brother wasn’t cruel. He was a great guy, but sometimes his confidence in his abilities caused him to unintentionally say something hurtful. Like the time he was telling a scout how he was the better, more-talented player of the two of us. He didn’t mean to rip out my heart with his words, but he did. In fact, both he and our dad told me not to expect to be drafted in the first couple rounds. Yet I had been, I reminded myself.
“Hey, Omi,” Tate shouted from down the table and interrupted my musing. I stiffened. The entire team knew Naomi because of her father, an alumnus of the Bulls and a huge contributor to the hockey program. We were all in awe of him. Sometimes he’d show up at practice and give us pointers and took a special interest in Patrick. Naomi was also a staple at hockey games, which she often attended with her dad.
I didn’t have to turn around to know she was walking toward us. I felt her presence as she closed the distance between our table and the door.
“Hi,” she said cheerfully, and the guys all responded with waves or greetings. I, however, did not until I caught the puzzled sideways glance from my brother. He was already suspicious.
I turned in my chair and offered her a blazing smile. “Oh, hi, Omi. Didn’t see you there,” I gushed, overdoing it and drawing more attention from Patrick.
She ignored everyone else at the table with a laser focus on me. I squirmed a little, wishing she’d quit staring at me like that. We’d seen each other naked, and I struggled to return to the friend zone when I wanted so much more. When you’d tasted paradise, h
ow did you go back to mac and cheese? I fingered the crystal under my T-shirt in a last-ditch attempt to bolster my chakra or energy or whatever.
“Pax, could we talk for a moment? I need some help with a small problem I have.”
“Uh, sure.” I stood, grabbed my beer for a little liquid courage, and followed her to a remote table as my brother’s gaze bored into my back.
5
Regrets
Naomi
On Sunday evening, I found Paxton at the Biscuit in the Basket. He sat with a few teammates at the large table in the middle of the room.
He’d ignored my multiple text messages all day long. I’d been left with no choice but to hunt him down. I’d checked the Biscuit multiple times during the day and finally hit pay dirt late afternoon.
We had to talk. I had to make sure things were okay between us. Paxton was one of my dearest friends, and we had to get through this mess with our friendship intact. I was my father’s daughter in that I tended to push things in the direction I wanted them to go, while Paxton was more deliberate and thoughtful when it came to his actions. I’d given him all day to think; now it was my turn.
He avoided my gaze as he pushed back his chair, grabbing his beer. “Be right back, guys.”
Most of his teammates barely noticed, with their attention focused on a game on one of the overhead flat-screens, except Patrick. I saw the wheels spinning in his head. He knew something was up. Maybe Pax had told him about my epic blunder. God, I hoped not.
Paxton followed me to a table away from prying eyes and sat across from me. He focused his attention on his beer glass as if he’d never seen one before. I clasped my hands under the table, wishing I had a beer, but the thought made my stomach rebel after all I’d consumed last night.
“Did you tell Patrick?” I asked.
His head shot up, and he met my gaze with surprise. “Fuck no.”
“Then why is he staring at us like that?”
Paxton glanced over his shoulder. Patrick rubbed his chin and studied us, trying to figure shit out.
“Because he senses a disturbance in the twin connection.”
I laughed, but it was a hollow, empty laugh.
“Naomi, your secret is safe with me. We were drunk. We said shit— Okay, I said shit I didn’t mean. We had sex. That’s it. Nothing else. I know how you feel about my brother, and I would never do anything to damage your chances with him.”
“Okay, good, I mean…” I trailed off. What did I mean? I hadn’t intended this conversation to revolve around Patrick. I wanted to talk about us, what last night did to us. Paxton was my best guy friend, and I hoped I hadn’t irreparably fucked that up. I’d come on to him, made him an offer no guy would refuse, and then made it clear I’d mistaken him for Patrick. How did friends get beyond such a thing?
I didn’t know, but I had to try.
“I didn’t come here to talk about Patrick. I came because I don’t want what happened to ruin our friendship. You’re too important to me.”
Why hadn’t I ever noticed what a strong chin he had? Patrick had this little cleft in his chin, but Paxton’s chin was slightly different, squarer maybe. His eyes didn’t have the twinkling mischief of his brother’s but were deeply serious. Yet he had a playful side. I’d seen it last night. He was so panty-dropping handsome, with straightforward goodness and a quiet strength. I was getting hot just thinking about him minus his clothes.
I shook my head to clear it. I was lusting over Paxton. My friend.
Paxton nudged my foot to get my attention. “Don’t worry. We’re good. Lots of friends hook up. Doesn’t mean anything. Don’t give it another thought.” He winked and gave me a cocky smile. If I hadn’t known him as well as I did, I’d have believed him. He wasn’t fooling me. Lots of friends did hook up, but they usually knew exactly who they were hooking up with. I had not known.
“Are you sure? We’re good?” I studied him intently, drawn to those deep blue eyes with the laugh lines in the corners. Patrick’s lines were more pronounced than Paxton’s. I’d never noticed that before. Now that we’d been as intimate as two people could get, I saw things I hadn’t seen. Perhaps I’d been guilty of viewing Paxton as an extension of his twin rather than as his own person.
I glanced toward Patrick. He regarded us quizzically from across the room, and my heart didn’t do that pitter-pat, pound-pound thing it always did when our eyes met. I turned back and met Paxton’s gaze, and my heart pitter-patted and pound-pounded.
What the fuck?
My brain was confused because I’d slept with the wrong twin. That had to be it.
Right?
“Naomi?” Paxton’s dark brows knit together as he watched me. He ran his hands through his wavy dark hair, which he’d let grow longer than usual. In fact, so had Patrick.
“Uh, yeah, uh, I just want to make sure everything is good between us.”
“We’re good,” Paxton insisted with forced lightness. He signaled to Carly, who was walking by. “I’d like to buy Naomi a drink.”
Carly smiled at me. “What’ll you have?”
“I’ll just have whatever light beer you have on tap.”
“You got it.” Carly hustled off.
“You won’t tell Patrick what happened, will you?” I didn’t want Patrick to know about Pax and me, but not necessarily for the obvious reasons. Things had gotten way more complicated than simply not wanting the guy I’d been lusting over to find out I’d slept with his brother. Correct that—we hadn’t slept. We’d had sex so epic I feared sex with Patrick or anyone else would be a letdown.
“Not on your life. If I did, then he’d know how you felt about him, and I’d be betraying your confidence.”
I was relieved, but I wasn’t sure I cared if Patrick knew I’d been crushing on him for two years. More importantly, I wanted—needed—to protect Paxton’s pride.
“Then we’re good?”
He rolled his eyes and smiled. “Yeah, I said we’re good. It’s not a big deal, Naomi. Let it go.” He sounded annoyed. I guess I was driving the point home a little too strongly.
“How’re your classes this semester?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I’m carrying a full load and then some. I might graduate early and go pro.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but don’t mention this to anyone. I haven’t even told Patrick.”
Since he was revealing something Patrick didn’t know, we were back on solid footing, or so I hoped.
We talked about classes and hockey and issues with our dads for a few minutes. Shortly after my beer arrived, Patrick ambled over to join us. With an assessing gaze, he looked from his twin to me and back to Paxton. I suspected he’d been having a serious case of FOMO.
“Can anyone get in on this secret?” he asked and verified my suspicions.
I licked my lips and guiltily glanced at Pax. “Uh, no secrets.”
“Right.” Patrick studied us as if he were calculating his chance at a clear shot at the net. Only he had more time to dissect our behavior than he ever would his scoring chances.
Speaking of scoring chances, we were in luck because a couple senior girls flopped down next to him, claiming his attention. He flipped on the charm and flirted outrageously, forgetting his twin and me.
Paxton shrugged apologetically. “What can I say? My bro’s a ho.”
I laughed. Watching Patrick in action didn’t hurt me nearly as much as it would’ve even a few days ago. In fact, I wasn’t certain it bothered me at all.
WTF was going on here?
One of the girls turned her attention to Paxton, and he fell into an easy conversation with her. She scooted close to him, placed a possessive hand on his muscular thigh, and snaked an arm around the back of his neck. He smiled at her, but his expression was mildly disinterested and didn’t sizzle with the heat he’d shown last night. Or was I imagining he had a special smile just for me?
Patrick would go home with one of these women, and Paxton migh
t also. My stomach twisted at the image of Pax having sex with someone else less than twenty-four hours from our night together. Thoughts of them together smothered me, and I gasped for breath. I had to get out of here.
Abruptly I stood and grabbed my purse. All four pairs of eyes looked up at me. “I have to go study. See you guys later.”
I didn’t wait for Paxton’s reaction, but I got the hell out of there.
Paxton might be the good twin to a point, but he wasn’t an angel. He got his share of action if campus rumors were to be believed, and this particular senior appeared to be one of his hookups hoping for a repeat performance.
Seeing her cuddle up to him upset me, and I didn’t know how to deal with this bit of information. I was suffering from twin confusion and had to get my head on straight. I didn’t like things out of order or not following my plan. Patrick was my crush, not his brother. Patrick was the guy destined to be a superstar and the guy my dad thought I should date so he could relive his glory days through him. Patrick was the guy I’d lusted for since my freshman year.
Paxton was a friend with one-time benefits. That’s all. Patrick was the one. My attraction to Paxton was temporary confusion due to scorching-hot sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But what if I was wrong? What if there was more?
6
Hired
Naomi
By the end of the week, Paxton and I settled into a weird new normal. Nothing was the same, even though we both pretended it was. Even weirder, after two-plus years of ignoring me, Patrick suddenly woke up and noticed me. It must be the blonde hair.
Instead of being thrilled, I was torn. I’d entered the twilight zone for sure.
I couldn’t for the life of me stop thinking about Pax. I made excuses all week to be where he was, eating in the dining hall at the same time, being outside the rink when he finished practice, or walking by his apartment about the time he left for class. At first, I’d denied these things were anything but coincidences, but I knew in my heart they were not. Then I tried to convince myself I was actually stalking Patrick. I wasn’t.
Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance Page 3