Icing

by Jami Davenport

  Something was wrong, and I didn’t know what. Our relationship was new and on shaky ground. I’d become attached too quickly.

  Finally, unable to hold back and not caring if I looked like a clingy, desperate not-quite-girlfriend, I called him. It rang several times, and my hand hovered over the End button. I was about to end the call when I heard his voice. My heart rate spiked and my stomach lurched at the sound. Steele had a great voice, low and quiet and sometimes gravelly, especially if he was aroused. Today he wasn’t.

  “Hey,” he said simply. From that one word, I sensed something was wrong. I heard a hint of annoyance, and my heart dived.

  “Hey, did you get my texts?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

  I listened intently, trying to decipher his tone and his mood. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing.”

  Oh, shit, something was wrong. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Good to hear yours.” Despite his words, he was noncommittal, almost as if saying something he didn’t really mean but was expected to say.

  “I guess I’ll let you go. I’ll be watching tonight.”

  There was a long moment of silence, and I held my phone in a death grip, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt slightly sick to my stomach. Was he about to dump me?

  “I hear you’re going to watch the game with the WAGs.” Despite how neutral he sounded, guilt told me he wasn’t happy I was insinuating myself into this group so soon.

  “Delaney insisted. I’m not altogether comfortable with it.”

  More silence.

  “I’ve never had someone represent me with the WAGs.”

  Okay, now I was getting pissed. He was being a presumptuous bastard himself. “I’m not representing you. I’m friends with many of those women, and they invited me to watch the game and drink wine.”

  “Yeah, I hear they do a lot of wine drinking.” He actually chuckled, and I wondered if I’d read too much into what he was and wasn’t saying. “Well, have fun.”

  “I will.”

  “Bye.” That was it? He didn’t want to talk longer or maybe have some phone sex? I was devastated, but I wouldn’t reveal my mood to him.

  “Bye.” I ended the call, feeling like shit. I immediately texted Delaney and told her I’d come down with a stomach virus and wouldn’t be able to watch the game with them. I’d taken the night off from work and wished I hadn’t. I’d rather be busy than worry about Steele and whatever was going on. This was crazy. We’d only had one date. Neither of us had any obligation to the other.

  He’d jumped to conclusions that I’d jumped to conclusions and planned to join the WAGs as if I was his girlfriend. He couldn’t be more wrong.

  I’d find something better to do. Screw his arrogant ass.

  Sasha and Chris and some of the others in my Green group were meeting that night to go over plans to oppose the destruction of Beecher Park. I decided to join them. They wouldn’t be watching the game, and I didn’t care right now. I was hurt by Steele’s behavior, even if I didn’t have a right to be hurt. Relationships were a lot of work. No wonder I’d avoided a serious one for the past few years.

  My cell rang, and the caller was Delaney. I considered not answering, but I did.

  “Why aren’t you coming tonight? I don’t believe you’re sick.” She got right to the point. No beating around the bush.

  “I don’t feel good. Really.”

  “Tell me the real reason.”

  “I promised the Green group I’d work with them tonight, putting together flyers and posters.”

  “That’s not necessary. Did he say something to you?”

  “He who?”

  “Mr. Tight-ass.” She’d gone into protective mode. I heard it in her voice. I didn’t need protection, but I was flattered she cared enough.

  “No, nothing.”

  “You’re lying. What’s changed your mind?”

  “I forgot I had another obligation. Look, Delaney, I’m in the middle of something. I’ll talk to you later.” I cut her off before she said more on the subject.

  I slumped on the couch and stared out the large window in the living room at the gray Seattle skies. They matched my mood perfectly. Surprisingly, I’d actually been looking forward to watching the game tonight with the WAGs. I knew and enjoyed these women, not to mention the wine would be excellent and free flowing.

  I wanted to go. Many of these women were friends of mine.

  I glanced at my watch. The game started in an hour. I hadn’t taken a shower or made myself presentable, but I was expected to be late. That was just me.

  Suddenly energized, I shot to my feet and hurried to the bathroom.

  No one was telling me what to do. I wanted to go and, damn it, I’d go. Not as Steele’s girlfriend but as an invited guest of the WAGs. Screw Steele. He didn’t have the right to tell me who I hung out with.

  I was going to watch the game with my friends and drink wine until I had to be poured into an Uber.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Ass

  ~~Steele~~

  I was sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for the team bus when Kaden strode out of the elevator. He glanced around and detoured toward me, crashing on the couch a few feet away.

  “Hey,” I said, greeting him with a distracted smile. Yeah, I was distracted again, brimming with guilt over how I’d treated Cin. She knew I wasn’t happy, and I’d been a dick about it, even though I was proud to have her join the WAGs on some level. I’d been waging this internal battle, wanting her to be there as my girl and not wanting her to be there as my girl. Confessing we were a couple was an admission I hadn’t made in a long time. My behavior was cowardly. What the fuck was I afraid of? A little teasing by the guys? Big deal.

  When Kaden didn’t respond, I finally looked up from checking my phone for the hundredth time that afternoon. My buddy scowled at me as if I’d just claimed I was going to score a goal for the other team tonight.

  “What’s up your ass?” I said.

  “You fucking are.” Kaden’s eyes narrowed to disgusted slits, and I rifled through my recent memory to find what was pissing him off. He’d been fine a few hours ago. WTF? The guy must be having testosterone issues or something.

  “Okay. Why?”

  “You’re such a dumb shit. Delaney called me, and she’s upset at you, thinks you’re a raging asswipe—my words, not hers.”

  I didn’t deny I had moments when I was an asswipe, but not to Delaney or any of the other bros’ women. I adored each and every one of them like the sisters I’d never had. “What did I do?”

  “Are you really that fucking dense?”

  I guess I was because he wasn’t making sense. I hadn’t talked with Delaney in a long time. What had I possibly done to deserve her ire?

  Then it hit me like a puck to the face.

  Oh, shit.

  Cin.

  “Seems that Cin cancelled tonight. She’s not joining the WAGs to watch the game.”

  “Did she say why she cancelled?” I had a sinking feeling and felt like shit even more than I had earlier. I’d done this.

  “No, but Delaney thinks it’s your fault. Is it?” Kaden’s accusatory glare was on point. I deserved his censure, as much as I deserved my own self-recrimination. I was an asswipe.

  “I talked to her earlier. Her going was brought up. I don’t think I came across as encouraging.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out after how defensive you were when we were all giving you shit.”

  “I wasn’t defensive.”

  Kaden rolled his eyes and snorted.

  “Okay, maybe I was a little, but I didn’t tell her not to go.”

  “So it was what you didn’t say?”

  “I guess. I am an ass.” I ran my hands through my hair in frustration, not caring it messed up my hair.

  “You owe her an apology. But later. Our bus is here.” With one last disgusted
glare for good measure, Kaden leapt to his feet and left me sitting alone with my crappy thoughts while he joined our teammates by the hotel exit. I heaved a sigh and rose to my feet.

  Lagging behind my teammates, I climbed onto the bus. Easton waved me over to sit by him, and I gratefully headed toward that friendly face.

  “Hey, don’t let it affect your game. Every one of us has resisted, and we’ve paid the price.”

  “Resisted?” I shot him a sideways glance. I should be concentrating on the game, getting in my zone, not worrying about a certain female.

  “Love, idiot. I knew the first second I saw the two of you sparring together that you were in deep shit. You see, those of us who’ve already fallen, we recognize that look.”

  “I don’t have a look.” I was protesting too much. By his smirk, he saw right through me.

  “Sure you don’t.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Buddy, you’re only fooling yourself then.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” I conceded that much, because I didn’t know what was going on. Cin hadn’t been part of any of my contingency plans, and I was at a loss how to handle her.

  “You’re not going to let this affect your game, are you?”

  “No.” I was not going to let it affect my game. “Let’s drop it for now so we can concentrate on New York.”

  Easton nodded. We were silent the rest of the trip as we prepared ourselves mentally for tonight. New York was tough, and they were on a hot streak, having won their last four games. We’d lost our last two, and with four wins and three losses, we needed this win.

  Once we got to the arena, I went off by myself to clear my head and do my own form of meditation. I didn’t meditate, exactly. I didn’t go for that kind of stuff, even though I had teammates who would argue my point. I followed my routine to the letter and managed to push Cin from my mind.

  I stretched, dressed, warmed up in the exact same way I had for years. I wasn’t superstitious, but I wasn’t going to mess with a routine that’d served me well most of my adult career. Routine was important to prepare the mind and body. I was a strict believer in it.

  I sat on the edge of the bench and leaned forward across the boards as our first line took the ice. Rush prepared for the face-off while Smooth and Cave stood with their backs to the net and Ice and Hot Rod were on the other side of the ice.

  I kept my eyes on our team captain, Ice. In my opinion, he was the best defenseman in the league. He was tough, ruthless, fast, and unrelenting. He was speedy on his skates and with his stick. The guy struck like a cobra with no warning. He turned on a dime, accelerated like a race car, and had no compunctions knocking an opponent on his ass or slamming him against the boards. While he didn’t fight or spend as much time in the penalty box as he had in his earlier twenties, he was a master at intimidation, with the ability to back it up with power and strength.

  As I often did, I put myself in Ice’s head and anticipated what his next move might be. He was my idol, though I’d never told him that. He’d probably be surprised, because I didn’t fall all over myself around him like some of the other younger players did. I aspired to be like him both in ability and leadership qualities. Ice led by example. He didn’t say a lot, but when he did, we all listened.

  The puck shot across the ice toward our captain. He leveled a laser beam in the direction of Smooth, who turned and shot it toward the net. He missed by a fraction of an inch. The goalie got lucky on that one. He didn’t see the puck coming but had moved his shoulder at the exact right moment.

  We were in a horserace to the other end, where our goalie, Brick, was waiting and watching. Brick was an incredible goalie. Brick’s partying had been legendary around the locker room. A year or two ago, a five-year-old daughter he didn’t know he had was dropped on his doorstep. Then he fell in love with her daycare provider. He didn’t party much anymore.

  My line leapt over the boards to take our shift on the ice. I turned on the speed on a collision course with New York’s left winger. I scooped up the puck right out from under the guy, did a one-eighty, and fired it at Cave, who was waiting. He was gone and no one could catch him. His shot lasered past the goalie and hit the top of the net.

  We were up one to zero with under half a minute off the clock. Still a long way to go.

  We fought our asses off for that win, but win we did. It was one of those games played with the intensity of a playoff game. Both teams wanted this win badly, but the breaks in the third period went our way, and we went to five and three on our season with New Jersey and Buffalo left to play on this road trip.

  I had a great game, and I was beaming when we exited the ice and headed for the locker room. I even scored a goal, which I didn’t normally do as primarily a defensive player. I was awarded the “fish” award, a fake salmon, which was a coveted award by all the players, chosen by the coaches for the player of the game. I’d never won it before.

  I did a few television and radio interviews, showered, and dressed and took my place on a raucous bus to fist bumps all around.

  Easton sat in the seat next to mine. The bus finally quieted down as we headed for the hotel.

  “Check this out, dude.” Easton shoved his cell in my face and grinned evilly.

  I stared at the image on the screen. It was the WAGs celebrating the win. In the middle of all of them was Cin. She’d gone after all. I didn’t know whether to be relieved, happy, or annoyed. Then I spotted something else. Cin was wearing a Sockeyes jersey. I hadn’t ever seen her in a Sockeyes T-shirt, let alone a jersey. Wait a minute.

  I did a double take and stared harder. The jersey number was fifteen. No mistaking it.

  Ziggy’s jersey?

  What the fuck?

  My blood boiled, and I was filled with unreasonable jealousy. Unreasonable because I should’ve been the one to gift her one of my jerseys, but Ziggy, inconsiderate, selfish Ziggy, must’ve beaten me to the punch. I was going to strangle him with my bare hands. I clutched the fish award tighter in my hands.

  “Don’t break that. Your knuckles are turning white,” Easton noted with amusement.

  I released my grip on the fish.

  “She has a right to be there. She was invited. She’s not there as your girlfriend. She’s there as a friend of the WAGs, so get over it.” Easton incorrectly assumed I was angry because Cin was there, but her presence wasn’t the source of my fury. That fucking jersey was.

  I didn’t say anything, not wanting to reveal any weakness to my buddy. We were hockey players. The depths of my jealousy would be fodder for months to come.

  Easton’s calculating gaze swept from the phone to me and back again. He scrutinized the image, enlarged it, and studied it some more. Then he met my angry gaze with a smug realization.

  “You’re pissed because she’s wearing Ziggy’s jersey.”

  I locked my jaw and stared straight ahead, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer.

  “Oh, yeah, dude, that’s what’s gotten under your skin. You’re not the only one who can read people, you know. I’m reading you pretty well right now. She got even with you for being an ass.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I ground out.

  Easton threw back his head and laughed hysterically. Kaden and Axel leaned over the seat behind us.

  “What’s going on? Let us in on the joke,” Axel demanded, and Kaden nodded vigorously.

  “Mr. I Don’t Fall for Women is pissed about this picture. Check it out. What do you see?”

  I tried to grab the phone as Easton passed it to our fellow bros, but no such luck. Those three bastards outnumbered one of me, despite how determined I was.

  “See it?” Easton prompted. “Steele is ready to kick some ass.”

  “Oh, yeah, I see it.” Axel let out a roar of laughter. “Someone better warn Ziggy.”

  “Yeah, Ziggy is in deep dog shit,” Kaden agreed. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a jerk and given her your jersey.”

  “I’m not a jerk.”<
br />
  “You’re a jerk,” the other two said in unison.

  I was saved any further ridicule as the bus pulled up to the hotel. Together we filed out, and I almost thought the guys had moved on to another subject as the four of us headed for the bar. No one mentioned the Ziggy jersey again as we ordered drinks and several appetizers. We were starved after the hard-fought game.

  Easton took a long pull on his beer and used the bottle to point at Kaden and Axel. “Should we tell him he’s only deluding himself?” Both heads nodded.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re making way more out of this.”

  “Really? You were about ready to take on Ziggy in a fight to the death for the hand of the fair maiden.”

  “I was not.”

  More laughter. I considered pouring beer on their heads, but that’d be a waste of good beer. I had been jealous, and my reaction disturbed me. I wasn’t the jealous type. I wasn’t needy or clingy or anything. I was independent and didn’t require others to boost my ego or make me feel good about myself. I didn’t need Cin. I really didn’t. I didn’t care if she wore Ziggy’s jersey.

  My stomach knotted at the memory of her in that jersey. Who was I fooling? Not these assholes. I didn’t like what I’d seen, even though I had no right to feel any possessiveness toward Cin.

  I did owe her an apology for being an ass when she’d mentioned she was watching the game with the WAGs. Maybe the jersey was payback, and that was all. Those WAGs were a scary, formidable bunch. If Cin had mentioned my sour attitude, they may have concocted this entire thing to set me off.

  If so, mission accomplished.

  I deserved it.

  And Cin deserved my sincere apology.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Repo

  ~~Hyacinth~~

  Steele would be home early this morning, and I was both anticipating and dreading his arrival. So much so that I woke up at three a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep. I wandered around the living room and texted Ziggy.