A Secret for a Secret Page 34

“Okay. Sure. That would be great.” Her smile is still tremulous, but I did scare the heck out of her, so it’s understandable.

We drop off the stack of papers on her desk, which is always a disorganized mess, but she seems to know where things are. She shuts down her computer and grabs her purse, rummaging around in it for her jersey—the one I bought for her a few days ago—with my name and number on the back.

She pulls it over her head, and I take it upon myself to smooth out her hair. Of course, the innocuous contact always makes me want to touch more of her. I follow her into the hall. She fumbles with her keys, so I take them from her and help lock up. We speed walk through the building to where it connects to the arena, fingers threaded together.

“Hey, I have some news.”

“I need to talk to you about something,” she says at the same time. Her cheeks are flushed, no longer pale, but something still seems to be off.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything is fine. Good. It can wait until later, after the game. What’s your news?”

“You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it now?”

She bumps her shoulder against my bicep. “I’m sure. Tell me what’s going on. You seem excited.”

“My family usually makes a trip out here to see me play at least once a season, and Hanna’s birthday is coming up so I thought it would be great for them to visit around then. You know, since this one will be kind of different now that my relationship with her has changed some.” I tap my access card on the sensor and open the door for Queenie. Silence gives way to the sound of hockey fans in the distance, and my excitement ramps up.

She squeezes my hand. “I think that’s a great idea. When’s her birthday again? I know you told me, but I’m terrible with dates.”

“In a couple of weeks. My family usually stays at my place, so it can be hectic, and often it’s for, like, a week or more, but it’ll be a great time for you to meet everyone.”

“Meet everyone? Like your entire family? All at once?” Queenie’s voice is pitchy again.

“Don’t worry.” I squeeze her hand this time. “They’re going to love you, Queenie, just like I do.”

She comes to an abrupt halt about ten feet from the locker room. “What did you say?”

“They’re going to love you.” At first I don’t understand why her eyes are so wide, until it dawns on me what I’ve inadvertently said. I take her free hand in mine and give her a chagrined smile. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t how I meant to tell you that.”

“Or maybe you’re trying to distract me by throwing me a curveball.” She smiles uncertainly.

“No curveballs or distractions. I love you, Queenie. I want you to meet my family so they can fall in love with you too.”

She blinks a few times, and her eyes go glassy. “King, I—” She shakes her head and has to clear her throat.

I duck down, getting in close, because security is only a few feet away and I don’t want them listening in on our private conversation. I also don’t want to put her on the spot, even though I’d like to hear those words from her too. “It’s okay if you’re not ready to say it back.”

“It’s not . . . that’s not it.” She strokes my cheek with her knuckles. “I just haven’t heard those words in a long time . . . from anyone other than my dad, I mean.” She shakes her head. “I love you too.”

“King! Man, you’re gonna see Queenie in like four hours. Get your fucking ass in the locker room and get your gear on unless you wanna watch the game from the bench and give Van Horten a shot to hone his skills in net. He’s been dying to show your ass up all season,” Bishop yells from all of five feet away.

I shoot him a glare. “Are you serious right now?”

“Well, it’s true. You’ll see Queenie after the game, and Van wants to hump your net more than you want to hump your girl. No disrespect meant, Queenie.” Bishop gives me a knowing smile.

Queenie ducks her head and chuckles. “Go do your job. We can talk about . . . everything else later.” She pushes up on her toes and tips her head back.

I bend to kiss her and whisper “I love you” against her lips.

“I love you, too. Now go.”

She pats me on the butt as I pass her, and I nearly flip Bishop off with the way he’s smirking. I manage to control my fingers, unlike my mouth and the things that come out of it with Queenie. I glance over my shoulder before I disappear into the locker room. Queenie’s already rushing down the hall, fingers at her lips.

I don’t let the ribbing from the guys get to me as I suit up for the game.

“You’re a little late, eh, King? We thought we were gonna have to bring in the reserve,” Slater says as he adjusts his laces.

“Just lost track of time.” There’s no way I’ll let him dampen my good mood.

He hasn’t been a positive addition to the team. His linemates are always on edge, never knowing what kind of garbage he’s going to pull when he’s on the ice. He’s guaranteed to get at least one penalty a game.

“I hope you didn’t waste all your game energy on some used pussy.”

I’m halfway dressed in my gear, but no shin guards or chest pads, so I still have the benefit of mobility. Before I can even consider how bad an idea it is, I’m off the bench. I grab the front of his jersey and haul him up so we’re eye to eye. “I already warned you once, Slater: do not disrespect Queenie, or we’ll be having more than words,” I hiss.

He throws his head back and laughs. “Do you even know how to throw a punch?”

“You looking to find out?”

“Jesus, King, back the fuck down, unless you want to sit this game out. This jock-rot fuckstick isn’t worth the bench time.” Bishop grabs me by the back of the neck and tries to loosen my grip on Corey’s jersey with the other hand.

“He’s disrespecting Queenie.”

“He disrespects his own mother every goddamn day just by existing. Still not worth damaging your hands over.”

He has a point. I can’t do my job if I break my hands. And if I get a suspension, I could end up on the bench, or, worse, I could be told I can’t even travel with the team. I’ve seen it happen before. Then I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on Queenie. I don’t like that thought—not at all. It’s the only reason I let go.

“Such a fucking Boy Scout, huh, King? Never like to get your hands dirty, do you? Except now you are, and you don’t even fucking know it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just remember: she was mine before she was yours. You’re welcome for breaking her in.” He winks, still smirking.

“You son of a bitch.” I lunge for him but end up in a choke hold before I can do something really stupid, like rearrange Corey’s face.

“What the hell is going on here?” Alex’s voice barely cuts through the haze of red. “Bishop, stop fucking around. King, why the hell aren’t you suited up? You need to be on the ice in two minutes.”

“Just messing around. He’s on it, Coach.” Bishop releases me and claps me on the shoulder. “Channel the anger on the ice. Every puck coming at you is that fucker’s balls.”

I run my hands down my face, trying to find some calm. I don’t like the way Corey is suddenly trying to get under my skin. It’s obviously intentional, and I’m not sure what the purpose of it is.

I finish dressing and try to clear my head and get in the zone. Once I hit the ice, I search for Queenie in the arena. I spot her up in the box with the rest of the girls. Which is good: she’ll be too close to Corey if she sits behind the bench.

I take my place in net and focus on the game, not the one player who gets under my skin. I guess now I know how Bishop felt when he and Rook weren’t seeing eye to eye. It’s hard not to be preoccupied.

I take a few deep breaths and remind myself that later tonight I’ll have Queenie in my bed, under me—or on top, or both—and that she’s finally admitted how she feels about me. She’s my raging rapids, and I’m her calm lake at dawn. We’re good. Perfect. She’s going to meet my family, and they’ll love her. Corey can’t touch what we have.

I do what Bishop suggested and channel all the negative energy into protecting the net. It’s incredibly effective, especially the part where I envision Corey’s flattened face on the puck every time it gets close to the net. We end up with a shutout, which means I feel fantastic about the game, and most of the negative energy seems to fade away with the back pats and my teammates complimenting me on a job well done.

I’m in a great mood as I shower and get ready to meet up with the girls, who are likely already at the bar. Corey’s too busy with whatever’s happening on his phone to pay attention to me, which is probably good for both of us. I’m riding a high, and I would gladly knock him out if he decides we need to have a go at each other.

“You’re going to stay for a couple of beers tonight, right?” I ask Bishop as I shrug into my dress shirt.

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