Alex (Cold Fury Hockey #1)(47)

Shaking my head, I don't respond but finish tying the second skate. When I lift my head and glance at Kyle, he's staring at me with eyebrows raised, waiting for me to deny what he's said. 

"What's the deal with you, Steppernech?" I ask, trying to keep the derision out of my voice. "You talk about free pussy and no-strings sex, yet you got yourself shackled to a woman who spends all your money and squirted a couple of kids out. You want to live vicariously through me or something?"

Kyle snorts and then throws his head back in laughter. "I don't need to live vicariously through you, man. I get all the free I want when I'm road-tripping with the team."

He says it with such pride, cheating on his wife, that it makes me a little sick to my stomach. I mean, I wasn't monogamous when I was with Cassie, but I was up-front about that. I didn't trade rings with her or even any promises I'd buy her dinner.

"The ladies must really love you," I hear Garrett say from my left. He's looking at Kyle with disgust on his face, and it's certainly prevalent in his voice.

Steppernech turns his gaze onto Garrett and his eyes narrow. "You're one to be looking down your nose, Samuelson. You seem to fuck a lot of strange."

Garrett just gives an easygoing smile to Kyle. "Dude, I like it varied, no doubt, but I treat every lady I'm with with respect. Look it up sometime. I'm sure your wife might appreciate it."

"You fucking asshole," Kyle growls as he lunges from the bench. I immediately step in front of Garrett, I guess to protect him, and it's fucking weird that I would do that. Just two weeks ago, I would have sat on the bench and played a game on my iPhone while they tore each other to pieces.

Luckily, a few of the other players near Kyle jump up and grab at his elbows. Luca Brassard, our team captain walks into the middle and shouts, "Knock it off and get your heads out of your asses. We're here to play hockey, not have a fucking gossip session."

Kyle shrugs out of his captors' holds and walks out of the locker room. I turn to grab my gloves off the bench and Garrett claps me on the shoulder. "You stood up for me, man. I think I'm going to cry."

Knocking his hand off my shoulder, I glare at him. "Shut the fuck up," I say, but then I follow it with a grin. "You might make me cry."

We laugh all the way out onto the ice for our warm-up.

***

She picks up after the first ring, as if she's been waiting for my call, and that knowledge burns nicely right in the center of my chest.

"You. Kicked. Ass. Tonight!" she yells so loudly, I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

Yeah, I did kick ass. Two assists during regulation and I scored the tiebreaker in overtime, averting the need for a shootout. When the puck cleared the goalie's left shoulder, I had my arms lifted in victory even before the red light went on. My teammates came hurtling out of nowhere, throwing their arms around me in celebration, the entire pile of us eventually crashing to the ice in a hodgepodge of arms, legs and hockey sticks. The smile on my face was a mile fucking wide, and I knew the camera was on me … showing Sutton that smile.

I don't even know what to say about her praise, actually a bit embarrassed by her exuberance.

"You should have seen your face, Alex," she murmurs into the phone. "After you scored that goal. It looked like the sun had just risen for you."

Her words punch me in the gut and my chest constricts. That's exactly how it felt: like a brand-new sunrise, and I know that's exactly what my face reflected. That she understood that … that she got me. That's what punched me in the gut.

"That's about how I felt," I admit to her. "It felt amazing."



       
         
       
        

"I'm glad," she tells me sincerely. "Someone as amazing as you deserves to feel that way about yourself."

Wham!

Another punch … another painful squeeze to my chest. Is it supposed to hurt in this pleasurable way when someone shows care for you? I'm not sure, because this is all an unknown to me.

"How is it that you make me feel so good about myself? About what I do? Christ, Sutton, I think I've smiled more in the short time I've known you than I have my entire life."

She's quiet for a moment, and then she says, "I think I've smiled more than normal too since meeting you. It's a two-way street."

I know it gets brighter in my room because her words make me fucking grin like an idiot. Settling back into the pillows on my bed, I say, "So … tell me about your day."

"It wasn't as exciting as your day, that's for sure. Actually … I have a difficult case … a young girl who's really struggling to stay away from meth. Her parents are both addicts and the drug is within easy reach. I spent a lot of time talking to her today."