Pucked Love

by Helena Hunting

  Series three of the playoffs is intense, once again going to game seven, and putting Chicago into the finals. Darren’s stats continue to rise, and with them his anxiety, and his requests for me to stay at his place. I can’t and don’t want to say no, but I worry, more than I let on, about what’s going to happen at the end of the season when the expansion draft finally happens.

  I’d like to believe he’s not going to end up on the chopping block, but the truth is, his game keeps improving. Which tells me something incredibly important about Darren. He adapts to his environment and the people in it.

  He played only as well as he needed to in order to keep Alex in the limelight. And now he’s playing better to keep his team afloat. As I settle into this new us, I’ve begun to realize this is who he is and how he operates, whether consciously or not. He adjusts himself and his expectations based on someone else’s need.

  When his grandparents took away his privacy as a teenager, he found ways to adapt—physically, mentally, emotionally. In his career, he always puts his team’s needs in front of his own, and I believe, in a lot of ways, he does the same with me.

  I’m the reason our relationship never progressed. I’m the reason we’ve stayed the same all this time. Whatever I wanted, Darren gave me. He never tried to open the doors I kept locked. Until recently.

  He’s always very careful and calculated in the way he manages me. Us. Except now we’re transforming, and I don’t know how to stop it—or if I can, or if I even want to.

  Chicago wins the first two home games of the finals, but loses the first away game in Tampa. I worry this will be another seven-game series, making their off season that much shorter, when they could use the extra time to recuperate. I’m relieved when they win the second away game by one goal, and even more relieved when it’s Alex who scores it, and Randy who handles the assist.

  I’m already at Darren’s place when he arrives home. For the first time in a long while, he picks out lingerie. I’m unsurprised when he chooses to dress me in lavender satin and lace. But when he opens the I thought it would be fun but I changed my mind toy box, my nervousness immediately skyrockets.

  “What are you doing?”

  It takes a few seconds before he finally shifts his attention away from the contents of the box. “Looking for something.”

  His expression is flat. I don’t know how to read him tonight, and that nervous feeling drops low in my tummy and settles between my thighs.

  He stops what he’s doing and crosses to where I’m standing in the middle of the doorway. He caresses my cheek and bends to press his lips to my forehead. “Wait for me on the bed, please.”

  I search his face, but all I get is the tiniest hint of a smile before he turns me around, pats me on the butt, and sends me out of the closet.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, nervously toying with my pearl necklace. Several minutes pass, or at least that’s how long it feels, before he finally appears, carrying an armload of toys.

  I swallow hard as I take in the items he’s chosen, and the heaviness between my thighs expands with each toy he carefully places along the end of the bed on either side of me. I recognize several of them as items I’d foolishly surrounded myself with when his teammates walked in on me.

  Darren comes to stand in front of me. I look up—taking in his dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons undone—until I reach his face.

  He stares, unblinking as he taps my knee. “Open, please.”

  He tips his head to the side, eyes roaming over my body, pausing between my legs where everything is already tight and pulsing. He reaches out and skims my jaw, making every single muscle in my body clench and quiver.

  “Are you nervous, firefly?”

  “Yes.”

  He exhales slowly and runs his fingers up the inside of my thigh. I suck in a shallow breath when he slips one under the edge of my panties. If I wasn’t wearing lingerie, I’m sure I’d be leaking all over his comforter.

  I bite back a moan and eye the items on the bed.

  “Tell me why,” he whispers, voice low with gravel.

  “You know why.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think I do.”

  I look at the ball gag on the right and then that creepy facemask with only a mouth hole on the left.

  “Darren,” I moan when he circles my clit.

  “Why do we still have all of this if we’re never going to use it?”

  I’m not sure why he wants to have this conversation right now. I expected him to walk in the door and get me naked on my reading chair, as has been typical recently.

  “Does that mean you want to use it?” I ask.

  I have to admit, as unnerving as it’s been to have Darren focused solely on me and not any of the stuff I usually bring into our sex games, I actually love sex without all the distractions. I thought maybe he did, too.

  He withdraws his fingers, trailing them down the inside of my thigh, leaving a streak of wetness that makes me blush as he sinks to his knees front of me. “I’d like you to answer my question before you pose one of your own.”

  I don’t know what’s happening here. Or how I’m supposed to answer that because the truth is at odds with my actions over the past two years.

  “I thought maybe one day I’d change my mind.”

  “Is that really true?” he asks.

  I bite my lip and shake my head.

  “So all of this serves what purpose?” He gestures to the array of toys. “Apart from being a distraction.”

  “I thought maybe it was what you wanted.”

  He skims the pearls at my throat. “And I thought I was showing you that you’re more than enough. I will give you almost anything you want, but I only need you. You are all I want, Charlene.”

  I motion to the items surrounding me on the bed. “Do you want me to get rid of all this stuff?”

  “That’s entirely up to you. I’m just telling you I can take it or leave it. Could it be fun? Maybe. But only if it’s what you want. Otherwise it’s unnecessary.” He runs his hands up my thighs. “Now, I’ve been without you for four days. I’d like spend some time enjoying all the things I missed.”

  The night that follows could possibly end up being the championship game. I’m not as on edge as I was at the end of the last series, even though there’s more at stake with this game. As usual we’re all seated in close to the ice, behind the bench

  Darren is as worried about winning as he is losing. The beginning of the game is rocky, with Tampa scoring twice in the first period, but Chicago evens it out by the end of the second. Alex scores a goal, which is good for his ego and team morale. Randy owns the second goal, with Darren as the assist for both, taking them into the final period tied. That doesn’t last long, though.

  They’re less than five minutes into the third when Darren circles close to the net with the puck. He passes to Alex, who I’m sure is going to take the shot, but at the last second he fakes right and shifts the puck to Randy who scores another goal for Chicago.

  They hold onto the lead through the third, and with less than three minutes left in the game, Darren gets hold of the puck and sprints down the ice on a breakaway, scoring again for Chicago.

  Tampa is down two points with less than two minutes left in the game, and one of the players gets in Alex’s face. The ref calls a roughing penalty, giving Chicago a power play for the final minute of the game, and of course they take the opportunity to score again, ending the game, and the season, with a 5-2 win for Chicago.

  Chicago took the Cup home when Darren and I first started seeing each other, but this is different. Back then Darren had a no-trade clause, and we weren’t as serious as we are now. So much is tied up in him, and our friends are interconnected, so this monumental win is both something to celebrate and fear.

  Change is coming no matter what. Someone is going to Vegas at the end of the season, and hopefully it won’t be Darren, whose stats are the best they’ve ev
er been.

  Sunny passes Logan to Miller so he can skate him around the ice while they celebrate the win. The sports journalists clamor for interviews. Darren is never comfortable in front of the camera, unlike Randy and Alex. His answers are always short and to the point, almost as if he’s annoyed. When one of the journalists asks him how he feels about the expansion draft, he mutters something about being at the end of his career and younger, better players being a safe bet. Then he turns around and stomps down the hall toward the locker room.

  The journalist turns to Alex who defends Darren, saying they’ve been playing together for a long time, and any trade would be a big change.

  Darren is quieter than usual at the bar, but he doesn’t shy away from the celebration, maybe because it’s possible this is the last time he’ll get to do this with his Chicago teammates. I hope that’s not the case.

  The expansion draft won’t happen for a few more weeks, so there will be unease while we wait for the outcome. Plus, losing one team member could have a domino effect. I try not to worry, but it’s not easy.

  We’re all sitting around a long table in the back of the bar, chatter making it hard to focus on any one conversation. Also, Darren’s hand is under the table, kneading my thigh and slowly moving higher.

  “We need to have a party for your birthday this year, Char!” Violet shouts.

  “Yes!” Lily agrees. “A real one since it’s your champagne birthday!”

  I shoot them both a look. Birthday parties have never been my thing. I don’t like being the center of anyone’s attention, except maybe Darren’s.

  “I’ve been thinking about your birthday,” Darren says so only I can hear, in a tone that sends a shiver down my spine.

  I wave Violet and Lily off. “It doesn’t need to be a big deal.”

  “So how about a BBQ at our place? We can celebrate all the things! Your champagne birthday, winning the Cup, and the end of the season,” Violet suggests.

  Lily pulls up her calendar on her phone. “What about next weekend?”

  “That’s perfect!” Violet turns her smile on me. “Plus it’s a holiday weekend, so a BBQ is essential anyway. We can eat burgers and lactose-free ice cream and cake and all the delicious things. And I need to wear a bikini and take pictures before this baby takes over my body!”

  I don’t have the heart or the desire to argue. Besides, with the trades still looming, I have no idea if this is the last birthday I’ll get to celebrate with all of our friends. Will one of them will be somewhere else next year? I don’t want to miss out on making memories, even if they might hurt in the future.

  “Okay,” I tell her. “Let’s do it.”

  When your best friend is married to one of the top earners in the NHL, she can pull together a pretty damn sweet party in a very short span of time. Violet hires a caterer and buys all the decorations online.

  Darren must ask me a million times, in a hundred different ways, what I want for my birthday. What I really want is for him to stay in Chicago and not be traded to Vegas, or anywhere else. But he doesn’t have control over that, so I tell him I don’t need anything and the party is enough.

  My birthday begins with orgasms from Darren and a promise that he’ll see me later. He leaves my bed, much to my dismay, just after ten in the morning and is replaced by Violet.

  “I brought breakfast!” She wrinkles her nose as she takes a few steps into my bedroom. “It smells like Darren and sex. I vote we eat downstairs.”

  I roll out of bed, not caring about my messy hair or the discarded lingerie—I’m wearing one of my many shorts-and-tank sleep sets—as I follow her downstairs.

  “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, especially since the party is at your place.”

  “Are you kidding? I wanted a couple of hours of you-and-me time before I have to go sharing you with all our friends. Remember when we used to eat pints of ice cream and have Hoarder marathons on your birthday?” She turns the bag over and two half-pints of Ben & Jerry’s roll onto the counter. Her smile is questioning. “We don’t have time for a marathon, but we could do an episode or two.”

  I don’t know why I’m suddenly emotional, but I throw my arms around her.

  When we finally release each other, Violet puts her hands on my shoulders. “I know a lot has changed recently, especially with me and Sunny both being pregnant, and then Lily and me finding out we’re half-sisters—which is, like, so daytime soap opera, by the way. But there’s only one you, Char. We’ve been best friends for almost a decade. We went through frosh week together and survived for Christ’s sake.”

  I laugh at that. “You’d think we would’ve learned shots were bad back then.”

  “Academic intelligence isn’t the same as social smarts. How the two of us made it through college without a criminal record is beyond me.” Violet snort-laughs and then grows serious. “No one is ever going to replace you, Char. When we’re old and saggy and we have to yell to hear each other, we’ll still be best friends.”

  Of course that’s the moment I burst into tears, because as much as I don’t want to admit it, those are exactly the words I need to hear. And that sets off a whole chain reaction in which Violet starts crying, too. So we hug some more and cry a bunch like sappy idiots.

  “I’m probably going to cry a hundred times today because my hormones are insane,” Violet sniffles.

  “At least you have an excuse.”

  Violet and I spend the next two hours eating crap and half-watching TV. It’s good to have a little time with just her before the party.

  My mom calls around noon to wish me a happy birthday, and she promises to visit soon. I’m a little disappointed, especially since she uses the reality show she auditioned for as the reason she’s so busy. But then, we never made a big deal out of birthdays at The Ranch, likely for reasons I didn’t understand at the time. Afterward, it sort of stayed that way, so the fact that I’ve agreed to a party at all is kind of a big thing.

  Early in the afternoon, Lily and the rest of the girls come by to pick me and Violet up—apparently Alex dropped Vi off this morning. I don’t need an overnight bag because I’m staying the night at Darren’s, so all I bring is my beach bag with my bathing suit, sunscreen, and a hairbrush.

  Lily is parked across the end of the driveway in Randy’s huge Ford F-150. This one is new, and though I’m not all that big into cars, or trucks for that matter, even I can appreciate how cool it is with its chrome everything and grill guard on the front.

  Violet bounces down the front walk for a few steps before she grimaces and holds on to her boobs. “Sweet Jesus, you’d think my bra was made of sandpaper with how sensitive my damn nipples are these days.” She threads her arm through mine. “It’s party time! You better do some shots for me tonight to make up for the fact that I’m incubating Alex’s future hockey legacy.”

  I give her a side hug. “Shots are never a good idea, Vi. We both know this.”

  “Agreed. But there are Jell-O shooters, so you have to do at least one of those.”

  Violet makes a move to get in the backseat. I offer to help her in, because it’s a long way up even with the running boards thanks to the huge tires on this truck, but she slaps my hand away. “I’m pregnant, not incompetent. I can do it myself.”

  Violet is uncoordinated at the best of times, but add height, her center of gravity being thrown off, and an additional cup size to her already huge boobs, and she’s a walking disaster. Still, she somehow manages to get her ass in the backseat without damaging herself or anyone else.

  “Happy birthday!” The girls call out as I drop into the passenger seat. They’re all wearing birthday hats with a set of champagne glasses, my name, and the number twenty-six on them. Lily blows one of those birthday horns, and the thing that rolls out hits me just above the eye. It’s followed by a burst of gold raining down on the front seat.

  Lily’s eyes go wide. “Vi! Not in the truck!”

  The dash and the front seat are litte
red with gold glitter and tiny sequins. I cover my mouth with my palm, trying to decide if I should laugh or not, based on how horrified she looks.

  Violet makes her apologetic face. “Sorry. I got excited and forgot.”

  “Randy’s going to kill me!”

  “We can stop by a car wash and vacuum it out,” Poppy suggests.

  “We don’t have time. Everyone’s supposed to arrive around two, and it’s already one thirty. The birthday girl can’t be late.” Lily runs her finger along the dash. “Glitter is the worst. It never comes out. I’m pretty sure I still have glitter stuck to my vag from the last time Randy wanted to play figure skater,” she says.

  “Was that last night?” Violet asks.

  “Last week.” Lily puts the truck in gear. “Roll down your windows, girls, let’s see how much gets sucked out the windows on the way to Vi’s. And you’re totally taking the heat for this. Randy can’t get mad at a pregnant woman.”

  As Lily drives down the street, I spot an enormous RV parked not far down the road. I point and scream.

  Lily puts on the brakes, maybe thinking she’s accidentally almost run over my neighbor’s cat, who has a terrible habit of playing chicken with cars. I swear he’s maxed out his nine lives.

  I unbuckle my seatbelt and try to tuck myself under the dash.

  “What’s wrong?” Lily asks.

  “It’s the RV, just keep going,” Vi says.

  Lily glances down at me uncertainly, but takes her foot off the brake and hits the gas. A cloud of glitter whirls in the air, and everyone sputters and waves their hands in front of their faces as they get pelted with it.

  I cover my eyes with my palms as much to protect myself from the glitter as to hide from the RV. “Tell me when it’s safe, Vi!”

  We slow as we round a corner and then speed up again.

  “Okay. You’re good,” Vi calls out.