Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Jami Davenport

  My brother sauntered in a few minutes later, looking as if he owned the place, which he somewhat did. We locked eyes, and he narrowed his gaze. Giving me the cold shoulder, he breezed past and commandeered a seat at the other end of the table from one of the freshmen.

  I blew out a long breath of relief. We needed space from each other. It was hard enough living in the same apartment. I hated this wall between us, but I was at a loss when it came to fixing it. I tried to put myself in his shoes. He’d always been the star of any team we’d been on, the coaches’ favorite, and the go-to guy for the puck. He was struggling with the changes I’d made to my play, not just because they were affecting his game but because Patrick had been perfectly happy with the way things were. He would see no reason to change.

  I, on the other hand, wanted to get out of this box I’d been locked into for all these years. I needed to do so if my pro career was going anywhere.

  I considered explaining what was going on, but a gut feeling he’d balk or worse held me back. I wished he’d see what had been going on all these years and understand what being in a support role had done to me.

  And I was missing Naomi horribly. I wanted things I couldn’t have with her, or so it appeared, though I’d seen no sign of her dating my brother. Given our current situation, surely he’d have rubbed that in my face.

  I glanced at my phone to see if I had any text messages from her. Nothing. I hadn’t texted her either since yesterday, even though it was killing me not to do so. Appearing desperate and needy was not a good look.

  “Hey, miss me?”

  My head shot up at the sound of the voice from my dreams. I couldn’t stop the huge smile spreading across my face. She’d answered my prayers like an angel from above.

  Naomi settled into the empty chair next to me, rather than moving to the end of the table where my bro was.

  I did a double take. She’d changed her look. She wasn’t a blonde anymore, and her makeup was more understated. In fact, she looked like the girl I’d first met our freshman year. I liked this version of her a whole lot better, though any version of Naomi was hot AF. This woman was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen with her casual Moo U hockey T-shirt and jeans. Her caramel hair cascaded down her back in waves of pure silk and beckoned to me to bury my hands in all that sensual luxury, tilt her head back, and kiss the hell out of her.

  “Pax,” she nudged in that breathless voice which reminded me of our night together.

  “Hi,” I said. “You look great. I like the change.”

  “I’m going back to my natural color, and I’m leaving it wavy instead of straight.”

  “I like it. A lot.”

  She ducked her head almost as if embarrassed by my comments. When she lifted her gaze and met mine, she smiled shyly. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Patrick’s loud laughter reached us, and we both glanced at him. When she turned back to me, I didn’t see the longing in her eyes I used to see when Patrick was in the room.

  “You seem down,” she said, reading me like a book in that way she always had.

  “A little,” I admitted. The reason I was down had more to do with her than anything, though my crappy relationship with my twin was second in line.

  “What’s up?” She snagged one of the wings the waitress had just delivered to our table. Holding my breath, I watched as she nibbled the meat off the bones and sucked on her messy fingers. OMG. I was dying inside. Flashes of how well she sucked a certain part of my anatomy dominated my thoughts.

  “Are you okay?” Her concern was palpable, and I rushed to make excuses.

  “Patrick and I had an ugly scene at practice today. The entire team saw it.”

  “I’m sorry.” She meant those words. She hated seeing Patrick and me at each other’s throats. So did I. I also hated not seeing more of her, especially in less clothes.

  I nodded and took a long pull on my beer. “If all this shit keeps up much longer, I’m going to be an alcoholic. I seem to be drinking to dull the pain.”

  Naomi’s smile was kind and caring, giving me false hope I couldn’t afford to feel. Did I dare believe she was looking at me the way she used to look at Patrick?

  “Pax, hang in there. Don’t go back to old habits.” She patted my arm. “You’ve got this. I watch. I see. Your timing is off by a fraction. Once you take care of that fraction, no one will be able to tell you from Patrick. Hell, I think you might be a better player.”

  I choked on my beer with it almost coming out my nose. She was making shit up to help me feel better, and it was working. My head hurt as I struggled to come to terms with who I was on and off the ice. Breaking out of your carefully constructed belief system sucked and was way harder work than I’d ever anticipated. The physical work I dealt with just fine. It was the mental aspect that threw me more often than not.

  “Dad always says it’s ninety percent mental when you get to the professional level,” Naomi added.

  “So does Coach.”

  “Does that apply to you and your skating?”

  “I don’t have the physical ability and never will. My balance sucks.” She shot back almost defensively making me sorry I’d asked the question.

  “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

  “Thanks, I know you mean well, but I’ll pass. I suck at skating. I’m my dad’s biggest failure.”

  “Now who needs an attitude adjustment?”

  “I won’t deny that. I’m a realist. My dad wanted a boy, and he got a clumsy, uncoordinated girl.”

  “He should be proud of you. You’re smart and bright and beautiful.”

  She blushed and squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  We were quiet for a long moment as we were both lost in thought. Naomi spoke first.

  “Do you miss her?”

  I blinked, confused. “Miss who?”

  “Your mom.”

  Just this one mention of my mom caused a vise to close over my heart and my throat to close up. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet. Naomi waited patiently for me to gather my wits about me. “She was always there for Patrick and me, always positive and encouraging. She was loyal to a fault. She put up with our dad and all his issues, always painting a cheerful face on everything. Dad hated that I was closer to her than to him.”

  “I can understand why you would be. He’d be hard to be close to.”

  “Do you know what he said to me after she died?”

  “What?”

  I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. I’d never mentioned this to anyone but Patrick. “He said maybe now I wouldn’t be such a mama’s boy.”

  Naomi’s mouth dropped open. “What an insensitive thing to say to a little boy who’s grieving.” She grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

  “I thought for the longest time her death was somehow my fault because I’d displeased my dad, and as a result, I lost her forever.”

  Her gray eyes met mine, but I didn’t see pity there. I saw understanding and sympathy. I gripped her hand, gaining a measure of comfort from the closeness.

  “What about you? Do you miss your mom?” It was a stupid question, but I wanted to remove the focus from me. I also wanted to hear from her. I didn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t pull away.

  “Horribly. You’d think all these years later, it’d get better, but there are times it hurts as much as the night it happened. I’ll never forget our nanny opening the door to the policeman. Dad was playing somewhere. I heard the words he uttered as he told her about the accident.”

  “I get it. Worst night ever.” I did get it. We’d both lost our moms under similar circumstances.

  “Every time there’s a knock at the door after eleven at night, I get sick inside.”

  “Me, too, and I miss the sound of her voice and her laughter.”

  “We have to embrace the good memories, Pax, because that’s all we have.”

  I shook my head
and smiled. “No, it’s not all we have. We’re both a piece of our mothers. They live inside us. We have to remember that. I like to think that she’s watching over me like a guardian angel.”

  “I’d like to think that, too.”

  We smiled at each other, and I didn’t feel so alone anymore. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

  “So am I. I’m glad we found our way back to each other.”

  “I missed our talks.” She leaned into me and gave me a hug. I hugged her back, and over her shoulder, I caught Patrick watching me with a frown on his face.

  To hell with him. He didn’t have a claim when it came to Naomi. She’d been my friend first, and she’d be my friend afterward, if there was an afterward. He burned through Moo U co-eds faster than a wind-fueled fire burned through a forest.

  I’d done my share of burning, too, but this year I’d lost interest in casual hookups, especially since Naomi showed me how good it could be, and my greedy heart and soul wanted more of her brand of goodness.

  17

  Lost its Luster

  Naomi

  Saturday night the guys won at home after a bye Friday night. Patrick had been stellar, scoring two goals, and Paxton continued to struggle. I tried to find Pax afterward to bolster his ego but didn’t have any luck. He wasn’t at the hockey house or the Biscuit.

  Sunday night the hockey house was having an epic Halloween party, which I wouldn’t miss for the world. I loved dressing up for Halloween. My dad had taken the liberty to send Halloween costumes to both Patrick and me.

  I arrived at the twins’ apartment a little after six p.m. on Halloween at Patrick’s request. He was going as Captain Jack Sparrow and asked me to do his makeup. I was going as a serving wench. The costumes were incredible and also a thinly veiled attempt to force us together. My dad wasn’t all that subtle, even if he thought he was. Despite my irritation at his manipulations, I grudgingly appreciated the gesture.

  My dress was cut so low the girls threatened to escape if I bent over. I was pretty sure Dad’s latest girlfriend picked this one out. He wouldn’t have bought anything like this. He’d rather see me wrapped in duct tape. I didn’t usually balk at showing skin, but this time I was more reluctant than usual.

  Patrick met me at the door, dressed in his swashbuckling outfit complete with a long-haired wig. “Good, you’re here.” He pulled me into their messy apartment. Neither guy was big on house cleaning. Someday I’d come over and give the place a good once-over, not that I was tidy either, but this was even too much for me.

  “Let’s get moving. You’re late.” Patrick glanced at his watch and scowled.

  “Only by a few minutes. What’re you in such a hurry for?”

  “I don’t want to miss the festivities. Since it’s a school night, it’s starting early and ending early.”

  I seriously doubted that. The hockey house’s legendary parties never ended early unless someone called the cops, and Patrick was often one of the last to leave.

  I steered him to a battered barstool at the counter, and he compliantly sat down. Opening the makeup case I’d brought, I went to work. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, my boobs were at eye level to Patrick’s face from his perch on the stool. His hot gaze seared my bare skin. Instead of being aroused, I grew increasingly uncomfortable.

  I glanced around for Paxton but didn’t see him. Either he wasn’t here or he was sequestered in his room. I’d hoped he’d be a superhero in tights that showed off his muscular body and big— I squelched that line of thinking. Lusting over Pax right now would only get me in trouble, but what fun trouble that’d be.

  I grasped Patrick’s chin and yanked his head upward to better work on his eye makeup and force his gaze upward.

  “Ow. That hurt,” he groused, and I laughed.

  “Wuss. Now don’t move or you’ll be wearing eyeliner on your cheeks.”

  He groaned but complied to my orders. After all, I was doing him a favor.

  “Where’s Pax?” I asked conversationally in the same tone I’d use when discussing the weather. Inside, I wasn’t nearly as indifferent. I kept glancing toward the hallway for any sign of him.

  “Who knows?” Patrick dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. “That dress is hot on you.” He grinned at me and his voice was laced with promise.

  “Thank you, dear sir.” I forgot about my low-cut peasant blouse and bowed low. Patrick’s guttural growl told me all I needed to know without looking down. I whipped around, giving him my back, and tucked the girls back where they belonged.

  “I’ll show you how dear I am, wench.” He attempted a pretty lame imitation of a pirate accent. I’d watched Patrick’s moves for over two years, and now he was making them on me. His blatant interest should be a dream come true. Should being the operative word. Eventually, I’d have a personal day of reckoning regarding what was going on in my head and my heart. For now, I had a job to do.

  “Maybe we should forget the party and have our own party here,” Patrick hinted not so subtly with a wink-wink. I rolled my eyes.

  “Ah, Captain, but your crew is expecting us. Duty calls.”

  “Fuck duty,” he said. He was serious, but so was I. We were not staying here and doing the nasty under the same roof as Paxton. I had my scruples, and I wouldn’t hurt Pax like that. I’d done enough damage to his ego. Not to mention, the possibility of getting naked with Patrick didn’t hold the thrill it once had.

  Someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned to find Paxton a few feet away. His expression was completely unreadable. Judging by his clenched jaw, he wasn’t happy.

  “Hi, Pax.” I grinned at him, and his returned smile was more of a grimace.

  “Nice makeup job,” he muttered as he crossed to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “On both of you.”

  I’d applied my own makeup thicker than normal. “Thank you,” I said in a voice that quivered a bit. Pax had that effect on me, and I was tired of fighting what was becoming more and more obvious every day. Every day I searched for a glimpse of Pax as I walked across campus or went to the library and the Biscuit to find him or appeared in the dining hall about the time he usually did. Denial was getting harder and harder.

  “Where’s your costume?” I looked him up and down. In my opinion, he looked way hotter wearing his Bulls sweatshirt and faded jeans than Patrick did in his swashbuckling outfit.

  “I’m not going in costume.” He set his jaw stubbornly, as both Patrick and I regarded him.

  “But you have to,” I said. “We’ll come up with something. I’ll help.”

  “Leave him alone. He can do what he wants even if it’s being a poor sport,” Patrick hissed.

  “I heard that,” Paxton grumbled as he grabbed a bite to eat from the kitchen.

  His twin opened his mouth for a retort but shut it at the chastising glare I sent him.

  “What do you think?” I said, distracting Patrick as I held up a mirror for him to view my handiwork. I’d done an awesome job, too.

  “Damn. That’s me?” He grinned into the mirror and tried a few pirate glares, drawing a laugh from me and a snort from Paxton.

  “I think you’re a better Jack Sparrow than Johnny Depp.” I bent down to fix his eyeliner, which I’d laid on thick. It’d run slightly. “Don’t touch your face or sweat or even blink.”

  “How do females wear this shit all the time?”

  I opened my mouth to answer when the front door to the apartment slammed. Paxton had left without saying goodbye. I met Patrick’s gaze.

  Patrick sighed and shrugged. “He’s been distant lately. And different. Like he’s pulling away.”

  “Maybe that’s how he prepares to leave school and you.”

  “Maybe.” Patrick’s voice rang with skepticism.

  “We should be going.” I didn’t want to be alone in the apartment with Patrick for many reasons, as stupid as it sounded. Not so long ago, I’d have made sure we never got to
the party, given the opportunity. Now I wanted to escape as soon as possible.

  “Are you on a schedule?” Patrick stood and walked to the mirror hanging on one wall. He adjusted his sword on his costume. And checked himself out some more. His costume was epic, and he’d be the life and focus of the party.

  “No, but I promised to help Kaitlyn with her makeup. She’s meeting me there.”

  “Kaitlyn needs help with her makeup?”

  “Yeah, go figure.”

  “So, is this my rain check tonight? Are we on a date?” He prodded me for an answer. If I succumbed, I’d be nothing more than his next conquest, and this revelation no longer held the appeal it once had. Patrick was not relationship material, and what he had to offer was no longer what I was looking for.

  What was I looking for? Not a quick hookup, it appeared, but something more? Hell if I knew.

  “Let’s not put labels on this.” I refused to commit one way or another.

  “I’d love to put a label on you.”

  “What? Like latest hookup?”

  Patrick wasn’t deterred or insulted. “That works for me, babe.” He reached for me, and I pushed him away. He studied me quizzically but backed off.

  “When you’re done admiring yourself, we should go. What guy has a full-length mirror in his entryway?”

  “A girl I dated for a few weeks put this up. She hated leaving the apartment without checking a mirror. It comes in handy. I have to make sure I’m looking my best for my fan base.” He grinned confidently at me. Too bad there wasn’t a way to share some of his cockiness with his brother.

  I heaved a long-suffering sigh and shrugged into my coat. Patrick tried different angles in front of the mirror. I swatted him on the arm. “Let’s go.”

  I didn’t wait but headed down the outside stairs. A chilly wind hit me at the bottom, and I hugged myself. Patrick caught up, talking on his cell as he walked beside me.

  The guy was a regular social butterfly, I thought with annoyance.

  Lately, my Patrick crush had lost its luster.