Chapter 13

Every day I find myself wanting to text Kendra or Snapchat her. We’ve been sending stupid messages, about how hilarious Ben and Jacob were when they did some kind of rapper dance on the ice, or me beating them in the accuracy shoot-out, where we shoot pucks at targets in the net. It takes me six shots to hit all four targets in ten seconds. And crazy pictures like me flexing my biceps in front of a mirror. I find myself looking forward to telling her how my day was—how much weight I lifted, how high I jumped, what torturous new exercise Greg had for me.

But I also look forward to hearing about her day, even when it’s about the problems in her life. The other day she vented about a frustrating conversation she’d had with her mother, who sounds like a real piece of work. Apparently, her mom went off on her because she hadn’t gone home for so long, even though Kendra pointed out that they’d just seen each other at the wedding. Her mom started freaking out and calling her selfish and uncaring, saying she was only concerned about her business and her life in the big city, which pissed me off. But Kendra knows her mom and knew she was projecting (I’m getting into this psychological lingo) her own flaws onto Kendra, which ended up with her mom hanging up on her after saying they would talk more when Kendra calmed down.

Jesus. If I ever meet her mother—which I probably won’t—she better not say shit like that to Kendra in front of me.

Sweat runs into my eyes and stings like a motherfucker. I push the barbell into the air again, my muscles straining and burning. Last one…Greg, spotting me, guides the weight down onto the stand. My arms fall down the sides of the bench and my chest rises and falls as I pull in air.

“Good work,” Greg says. “Take a water break.”

“Fuck me, I can’t get up off this bench.”

He laughs, the sadistic asshole.

I haul myself up and go get my water bottle. I squirt some in my mouth and while I’m at it, I squirt more all over my hot face. My T-shirt is already soaked with sweat, anyway.

“Make sure you’re drinking enough,” Greg says. “You gotta stay hydrated. Are you monitoring what color your urine is?”

I grimace. Checking the color of my piss isn’t something that thrills me. “Yeah. Pale yellow. I’m good.”

Greg nods. “This is the longest training phase. We’re really working on building strength, power, and explosiveness. Because your workload is increasing, you’re burning more calories and we have to make sure we match your caloric intake and hydration to that. That helps you recover and improves your next workout.”

Yeah, he’s changed up the menu and I have been eating more, a very specific combination of complex carbohydrates, lean proteins, healthy fats, and fiber.

I feel the difference in my body. It’s hard to describe, but I have more energy, more endurance. On the ice, I have a more powerful stride and a harder shot. I know this translates into better puck protection and being stronger around the net. Maybe even more goals. I also feel the difference mentally. It’s amazing how working out and eating better have impacted my mood. It’s almost a relief to feel optimistic and light instead of dragged down and dark. I shudder when I think back to the early months after Ariana died and how low I was. It almost scares me, because I never want to go there again.

I won’t. I’ll never care that much about someone again. I’ll never feel that huge, wrenching loss, like part of my body has been cut out of me. I just won’t.

We move on to lower body workouts. Greg has me doing front squats, and as always he’s a stickler for proper form. “Don’t take all the weight on your hands,” he tells me. “You gotta keep your elbows up…yeah, like that. Now open up your hips. You have to maintain an upright position…yeah…that’s crucial. But don’t come up on your toes…push up through your heels.”

I watch my quads bulging in the mirror. I narrow my eyes and focus on doing what he’s telling me, lowering myself and rising, keeping my spine straight. I’m a lot more into this now than when I started, now that I’m seeing and feeling the results. It makes me feel like anything is possible…like I can do this. I can get back into shape even though I’m not a kid anymore. I can compete with those young dudes at training camp.

I hope.

We do some core movements that are getting more and more intense. Today I’m on my back on a mat, one hand behind my head, bent elbow to bent knee. I’m supposed to roll slowly from side to side. Fuck! My straight leg shakes and my core strains.

“Keep this arm straight!” Greg taps my free arm. “Roll back now.”

It takes all the strength in my core muscles to pull myself back to prone and then roll the other way. I collapse flat on my back, hands to my burning abdominal muscles. “Jesus Christ.”

“Just call me Greg.” He grins.

Later, once I’ve showered and changed, I do check my phone. I smile when I see that Kendra replied to the message I sent her earlier.

I sent her a sweaty picture of my naked chest taken in the locker room that she was very appreciative of. However, when I asked her to return the favor she just laughed.

Come on. It’s Snapchat. The photo will disappear after 10 seconds.

You know there’s a way around that.

Actually I don’t…

Snapchat’s a new thing for me.

You can Google it in 2 seconds.

So I Googled it. And yeah, there’s a way to take a screenshot that she won’t know about.

I wouldn’t do that.

So far still no chest shot. I’m hoping.

Anyway, today’s message is a happy response to my notification that I’ll arrive in New York Friday evening around nine.

Except I’m babysitting until about 10.

Babysitting?

My friend Jodie’s little girl.

Ah. Okay, no worries. How’s your day going?

Ugh. I’m stressed. Still problems with that finger vibe. Also one of our customers is months late paying their bill and we both suck at debt collection.

That sucks. Is it a lot of money?

Yeah

Heading home now. Skype later?

Sure

I have to stop and pick up some groceries on my way home—chicken breasts, broccoli, yogurt. I’d like to go to Eataly, which is a fun place to shop, but man, there’s way too much temptation there. I look forward to the day I can eat fettuccine Alfredo and Caesar salad and a whole loaf of ciabatta. Will that day ever come?

Yeah. Once I know I’ve made the team, I’ll reward myself with all the food.

I don’t buy too much stuff since I’ll be away for the weekend. I put it all away when I get home, broil the chicken, and steam the veggies. I’ve got some leftover brown rice pilaf that I heat up. Once I’ve cleaned up, I get my laptop set up on the coffee table and turn on the TV to watch some sports news for a while until it’s time for my Skype date with Kendra.

It’s not as good as seeing her in person, obviously, but I figure I can wait a few days. I went sixteen months without sex, I can last until the weekend, for fuck’s sake.

Funny how your perspective changes.

The Skype notification sounds on my computer and I lean forward. There she is…I smile and adjust the angle of the monitor. “Hey.”

“Hi! How are you?”

“Good.” I tip my head to one side. It looks like her shoulders are bare…“Are you naked?”

“No!” She laughs, then winks at me, leaning forward. “Not totally.”

“Topless?”

“Maybe.”

“Tease.”

“Yep.”

“Sit back just a little…”

She gives another soft laugh. “Patience, hockey dude.”

I groan. “I guess it wouldn’t help if I took my own shirt off?”

She grins. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

I whip my T-shirt off over my head.

“You’re really getting ripped, hockey dude,” she observes. “You had a great body before, but all this work is upping your game.”

Her words make my chest swell a little. “That’s my plan.”

She shifts, and I can see the top curves of her breasts. But she’s wearing a bra, it’s just…tiny. She’s doing this on purpose. I stand up, quickly undo my shorts and drop them and my underwear. When I sit back down, she’s staring at me through the computer open-mouthed. “Um, wow,” she manages to say. “I can’t believe you just did that. That was even more impressive.”

I saw on my monitor the view she had, albeit briefly. Yeah, my dick is half-hard and we haven’t even talked dirty yet.

“I’m not shy.”

“Clearly not.” She sucks briefly on her bottom lip in a way that makes me want to do that to her. “So, um…tell me…what would you do to me if you were here?”

“Holy shit. Uh, wow. Well, first I’d get my hands on those pretty tits you’re teasing me with.” Her breath catches audibly. “I’d pinch and suck on your nipples. I know you love that.”

“Mmm. I do.”

“I’d wrap your hair around my hand and pull your head back so I can feast on you. I’d push you back onto your couch and…are you wearing anything on the bottom?”

Her smile goes sultry. She stands slowly, flashing me with her lingerie. The bra is sheer nude, embroidered with peach and white flowers along the top of the cups. Her nipples are visible through the fabric. Then I see her panties. “Christ.” They match the bra, a triangle of sheer fabric overlaid with the same peach and white flowers. “Those are barely there.”

She turns around, giving me a rear view.

“Aw, hell, Kendra.” There’s not much to the front, but the back is literally just ribbons with a cute little bow right at the top of her ass crack. I gaze in rapture at her smooth, round cheeks.

“You like?” Her voice is husky as she sits again. Now I can see her cleavage in the sexy bra, which she emphasizes by leaning forward to look into the webcam.

“I love.” I can’t stop myself from fisting my stiff dick. “Damn, I wish you were here so I could peel you out of that.”

“And then…” Her eyes are heavy-lidded.

“And then I’d have my face between your legs before you can say cunning linguist.”

She chokes out a laugh.

“I’d kiss your sweet, soft pussy. Lick you. Suck you. Make you come.”

She sighs and leans back into her couch. She lifts one leg and props her foot on the edge of the cushion, and her fingers flirt with the pretty flowers on the edge of her panties. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “I want to come.”

“Aw, babe.” I give myself a few slow pumps, my blood heating. She’s watching me jerk my cock and her cheeks seem to be getting pinker.

“That’s so hot,” she breathes.

“Touch yourself, too.”

Her fingers slip inside her panties and her other hand cups one breast. She lets out a hot little moan. “I wish you were here.”

“Me, too.”

She stretches an arm out to the side and picks something up. “This is the finger vibe we’re working on.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She holds up her hand. “It’s wireless.”

“As if I give a fuck about the details.” I groan. “Are you going to use it?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Hell, yeah. If it works. Just want you to feel good.”

Her head goes back and her eyes fall closed, but then she opens them and tries to focus. She scrapes her fingernails over the thin fabric covering her nipple, then squeezes her breast again.

“Wish I could taste your pussy,” I rasp out. “And lick you all over.”

“Oh…I’m coming…”

I watch her abs contract and I pump harder, faster, almost violently. Her soft cries mingle with my shout of near pain as I come hard in my hand. My vision goes nearly black, and I slouch back, panting, my heart thudding. “Wow.”

Kendra’s slow smile is heaven. She stretches, her body lithe and pretty. Then she stretches out on her couch, adjusting her position so her face is on my screen. “Now how do we have a post-coital cuddle?”

I laugh. “Hang on. Gotta clean up.”

I make a quick trip to the bathroom and I sprawl out on my couch, too.

“I could fall asleep,” she says, her voice low.

“Tired?”

“Yeah. This week’s been crazy.”

“You were saying. What’s the problem with that vibe? It seemed to work fine.” I give her a sly smile and she laughs.

“Yes, I like it, but a bunch of women in our test group didn’t.”

She tells me more about the differences of opinion. “The thing is, women are all shaped differently. So what works for one doesn’t work for another. It’s a challenge.”

I wish I could fix things for her, but I don’t know anything about her business. Though she seems happy just to talk.

“On top of that, Zyana has been sick this week.” Her bottom lip pushes out. “I hate seeing her sick.”

“What’s wrong?”

“She has an ear infection. She’s been prone to them since she was born. She’s in pain and feverish.” She sighs. “So Jodie and I have been scrambling all week to look after her and still get work done.”

“You look after her, too?”

“Yeah. Long story.” She wrinkles her nose. “Anyway, she’s on antibiotics and she’s doing much better today.” She pauses. “Sorry to blabber on and on about my problems. Thanks for listening.”

“I can be a good listener, too.”

“Yeah. You are.”

We end the video call. “See you Friday night.”

“Can’t wait.”