Page 27 of Center Ice
“Uhhh…” I can’t tell by his tone if he’s upset, or if this is just his typicalI hate everyonevoice. “I don’t think I have plans?”
“Good. I have practice for the hockey team I coach, and my assistant coach can’t make it. Can you help out?”
This feels almost too easy, which makes me instantly suspicious. “Sure. It’s funny that you called about this, because I was about to call you to see if you knew of any youth hockey teams in the area who might like to have me volunteer. You know, getting myself out in the community, and all that.”
“Yeah. Audrey mentioned that and suggested you might want to help when I told her about my other coach bailing for Thursday night. I’m glad you can make it. It’ll give us a chance to talk about how you know my little sister so well, and why you’re going to stay away from her from here on out. I’ll text you the details about the practice,” he says, and the line goes dead.
Chapter Thirteen
AUDREY
Knowing that Drew’s going to be at Graham’s practice tonight, and actually seeing him on the ice interacting with our kid, are two totally different things. I thought I was prepared. I was dead wrong.
“What’s wrong?” Jules asks. “You just winced.”
Did I?“I’m just sore from dance class last night.” It’s not a lie. I am always sore on Thursdays.
I may have misled my family and friends into thinking I’m taking the type of dance I did all through high school and college—jazz and hip hop. Thank God no one’s asked for specific details, because what I’ve really been doing for the last four months is taking pole dancing lessons. It’s an amazing workout, and I leave every week feeling incredibly powerful, both physically and in terms of my sexuality.
Last night’s class, however, we tried a new move and today myserratus anteriormuscles—a back muscle that works with the trapezius for upward rotation of the shoulder blade—are screaming in protest every time I move my arms or shoulders. I didn’t even know theserratus anteriorexisted until I looked at an anatomical diagram this morning to figure out what was hurting so bad.
“Have you talked to Lauren yet?” Jules asks from her seat beside me, oblivious to my pain. We’re snuggled down under a blanket together, and I’m trying to pretend like watching Drew on the ice with Graham isn’t turning my whole world upside down.
“No. She sent me a text yesterday, saying she wants to talk about Sunday, but that she’s been swamped at work, and then when she’s home at night, Jameson is always there. She’s planning to call me tonight while he’s at practice,” I say, nodding toward the rink where our brother skates around, barking orders.
Jules’s big eyes widen. “You’re going to take that call right here?”
“I mean, I’ll probably head out to the lobby or something. But I can’t ignore the call.”
“Are you ready for more people to know?” Jules asks.
On the ice, Drew bends over and helps a kid reposition his hands on his stick and walks him through the motions of a slapshot. Then he calls Graham over and does the same thing. When he puts one hand on Graham’s lower back to straighten him up a bit, I try to ignore the memory of the way he ushered me out of the restaurant on Monday night. His hand on the small of my back had my entire core quivering, and it was a relief when he dropped his hand outside the restaurant, because I cannot be having these feelings for him.
He’s not the kind of guy you settle down with, and even if he was, getting involved with him would be too risky. If it didn’t go well, it could ruin his relationship with Graham. Me and my stupid sex drive—which is inconveniently more super-charged than ever—are not going to be the reason Graham doesn’t have a dad in his life.
“Eventually,” I tell Jules, “everyone’s going to know. But for now, while Drew gets to know Graham, I want to keep it as quiet as possible.”
“So are you going to ask Lauren not to tell Jameson?”
“I can’t ask her to lie to him. We’ll see how it goes once I talk to her.”
On the ice, Drew’s hands are back on Graham’s, and again, all I can think of is how his hand brushed mine multiple times on the short walk from the restaurant back to my place. By the time we reached the steps up to my front door, I felt near ready to combust, and then he leveled me with a look so perfectly laced with longing that I think it must have been rehearsed. He probably gives women that look and they start stripping their clothes off immediately.
It was a good reminder that he has his choice of women, and no shortage of them, so I remained strong. And by “remained strong,” I mean I thanked him for the drinks, then turned and practically sprinted up the steps and through my front door. I couldn’t even collapse against the closed door once I was safe inside, because Jules had gotten me the wooden doors with the big glass panels I’d wanted so badly and he would have seen me.
Instead, I headed straight to my room, and after getting ready for bed, I may or may not have crawled between the sheets completely naked and imagined that my hands were Drew’s as they crept all over my body. And it definitely wasn’t his name on my lips as I made myself come. Nope, because I’mnotthinking about him like that. He’s my kid’s biological father, and that’s it. That’s all he can be, because anything happening between Drew and me is a disaster waiting to happen.
In my hand, my phone buzzes, and before I can even glance down, Jules says, “Well, speak of the devil.” When my eyes land on my screen, Lauren’s photo is lighting it up.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Jules as I stand and start heading down the stairs of the bleachers. When I hit the rubber mats at the bottom, I answer the phone. “Hey,” I say, “hold on one sec, I’m just going to find somewhere more private.”
“Okay,” Lauren’s sweet voice carries through my phone.
I head through the glass doors, and luckily the lobby is empty like I hoped it would be. I take a seat on the bench along the far wall. “Alright, all good.”
“Didn’t want to have this conversation in the rink, in front of the other parents?” she teases.
“Definitely not. Especially with both Drew and Jameson there.”
