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Edge(57)

By:Brenda Rothert


Me: Famous last words.

Luke: I’ll book ur ticket.

I hoped letting him buy me a plane ticket didn’t make me a whore. There was no way I could afford to jet off to see him. But I hadn’t even considered saying no. I couldn’t wait to see him.

Things between us had been different since Chicago. He texted me several times a day and usually called if we were both up late at night. When I told him I was doing something, he remembered and asked me about it the next day, even if it was small. He’d remembered a few days ago that Kyler was moving to a school-wide competition with his science project and asked how it went.

The growing non-sexual closeness between us made me happy and nervous at the same time. I was starting to rely on it, and on him. I didn’t know what we had, but whether or not there was a label for it, it was becoming important to me.

I got out of the rink in time to pick Kyler up from school. He ran out the doors of his school toward me, ignoring his teacher’s warnings about running.

“Hi, sweets,” I ruffled his hair and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Do I have hockey tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Yes! When’s my next game?”

I held back a smile. In his league, ‘games’ consisted of the kids skating on half the rink and all scoring. And all the parents cheered no matter what happened.

“Thursday night.”

“Are you coming?”

“Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Do you think I could be on Grandpas’s team someday?”

I cringed inside at the thought. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be good enough, if you keep working hard.”

“I want to be on Grandpa’s team.”

For as mean as he could be, Butch Price inspired loyalty. And I knew he wasn’t mean to Kyler. He adored my son.

“Want to go get a milkshake?” I asked.

“Yeah! Chocolate with rainbow sprinkles.”

We climbed in the car and I headed to the ice cream parlor we both loved. I didn’t like being away from Kyler when I was traveling, but this was the upside. I picked him up every day when I was home. We’d go home and do homework and hang out together.

I pushed aside the guilt I felt over leaving him to spend Tuesday night with Luke. Sadie took great care of him. And this thing with Luke … I wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew he was trying hard to include Kyler in it.

This was uncharted territory for all of us. But Luke made me want to brave it – even though I already knew I’d be crushed into a million tiny pieces if things didn’t work out.

***



Luke





She was here. I hadn’t been able to see her before the game, but Dell was somewhere in the stands. Her flight was scheduled to land at six, leaving her plenty of time to get here for the puck drop at 7:15.

I closed my eyes, trying not to think about her. It filled me with warmth and softness – not what I needed right now. I was trying to get to a place beyond my usual pre-game war zone, because this was the first game against Nashville since my injury.

That meant my first confrontation with John London since he’d fucked my knee up with a cheap shot. I hadn’t thought much until tonight about the fact that he played for Dell’s father’s team. It wouldn’t be ideal to meet Butch Price immediately after roughing up one of his players bad enough to potentially get ejected from the game.

But this was hockey, not tap dancing. That was something my dad always said to me with a sneer when I cried about getting hit as a kid. And from what I knew of Butch Price, he was as hard as they came.

London had it coming. I’d dreamt of meeting him on the ice again and making him sorry he’d fucked with me.

I’d think about Dell after the game. My cock stirred as I realized tonight I wouldn’t just have to think about her. She was here. I could see her smile, make love to her and fall asleep with her in my arms.

Shit. More softness. I cranked up the volume on my playlist and closed my eyes, forcing images of London hitting the ice to drown out the ones of Dell.

By game time, I was buzzing. My teammate Vic was bellowing his guttural pregame war cry and I joined in. The guys all knew how much I was anticipating this payback, and they’d have my back out there.

The puck had barely touched the ice and I was charging him, a fire of fury driving me forward. It wasn’t the actual pain I demanded payment for, but the uncertainty and worry I’d felt about my career during my recovery. The lack of purpose that had led me to an introspective place where I’d discovered hockey was my entire life.

That realization – and my rehab – had brought Dell into my life. I was grateful for that, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be thanking London.