He came over this morning, we talked, and we had sex. Things are slowly returning to normal for us. It gives me peace of mind and allows me to go into work with a clear head, which I very much need. I’m interviewing a few people for my newly vacated position. I glance down at myself. I really should’ve taken the time to do myself up better. Putting sex with Brayden ahead of looking decent as an employer might not have been my best idea.
Oh, well.
Just before the first person is set to arrive, there’s a knock on my office door. “Come in,” I call out. The last person I expect to walk into my office is Rose. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you too.”
“Hello. Now, what are you doing here? I don’t have time. I have interviews.” I glare at her since she’s the reason I have interviews in the first place. One of the worst parts of this job is interviews. I hate conducting them. I’d rather fire someone. Seriously.
“Oh, I didn’t know. I was hoping we could do lunch.”
“Maybe tomorrow unless you want to go around three?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
She leaves and my first interviewee is escorted in. I have an uneasy feeling about meeting with her, but I’m not sure why. I’ll find out soon enough. My first two people are duds, but the third? She might be a winner.
I finish with her just in time to leave and meet Rose at a restaurant across the street by three. She’s already at a table and waiting, looking anxious. Not a good sign.
“What’s up?” I ask as I take my seat. “How are things going?”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”
“Okay.”
“I feel like I owe you a true explanation of what happened.”
Oh, god. I’m not sure I’m prepared to hear this. The waitress interrupts us to take our orders, and we order our usual; we would come here often when we didn’t want to travel far. The moment she walks away, Rose takes a deep breath.
“I don’t know if I’m going to say this in the right way, so forgive me if I don’t. I felt like I had a bit of a mid-life crisis early. With your mom dying and you being so wishy washy with those guys like usual, but then seemingly moving on. It, in a weird way, made me realize I have nothing going for me. Not like you do, with or without a man. You own a business, Deanna. I worked in a dead-end job.”
I wince.
“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with working with you. I did enjoy it, and I still think it’s better for our friendship that we don’t work together, but there’s no way I could improve there. I couldn’t ever move up the ladder and I would never make as much money, or more than you do. That’s my point. I had to leave. I do wish I didn’t leave you in a bind like I did, and I’m sorry for doing so. I have no excuse for that. So, I found another job and I’m figuring out what I want to do, so I can go back to school next fall.”
“That’s great.” I can’t seem to think of anything else to say other than that.
Rose has no problem keeping the conversation going for me. I eventually gather my wits about me and tell her that I’m happy for her and I hope everything works out. Then, I get back to work. I keep looking at my employees, wondering if they think they’re working in dead-end jobs as well. In a way, I guess they are. But there will eventually come a time when someone will be manager level, someone other than me. I haven’t felt comfortable doing that yet, so I’ve always done it.
At some point, I’ll need someone I can trust to take care of things in case I want to take a vacation. I’ll need someone to teach the classes in case I’m not here again or if I can’t for some reason. Maybe I should start looking into doing that now? Maybe this is a case where sooner is better than later. I don’t know.
I leave two girls in the front and disappear into my office to get some paperwork done before my class tonight. Paperwork is so easy to get lost in. I can work for hours and hours without realizing I’ve been working for so long.
As is the case today.
“Knock, knock.”
My head snaps up at the sound of Brayden’s voice as he pushes my office door open. I stand and move around my desk to kiss him. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“You have a class tonight, right?”
“Yeah.” Where is he going with this?
“I would like to observe if that’s okay.”
My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Observe? Why?” A flush of anxiety also hits me.
“You’ve seen me work; I want to see you work.”
“You’ll be bored,” I blurt out, the anxiety getting the best of me.
“How can I get bored watching you?”
I roll my eyes, even though I totally just swooned. “If you want to stay, you can stay.” This feels like it’s going to end very badly. Brayden flashes me a grin. I check the time. “Come help me set up.” He follows me to the room in the very back of the shop where I hold my classes. Today’s is a general sewing class. Like a loyal little student who wants to suck up to the teacher, Brayden helps me set out the materials. They bring their own sewing machines; I provide fabric and a few other small things to do a mini project.
We finish up when the first person walks in. She stops short when she sees Brayden. Her eyes widen, her mouth parts a little, and I wonder if I looked like that when I first saw him. Brayden clears his throat. “Where do you want me to be?”
“Just grab a seat and sit somewhere.” I leave him to meet with my first student and help get her set up. As more students come filing in, more of them react the same way, especially when one of them is a Carolina Rebels fan and actually knows who he is. I have to suffer watching her fan girl, get an autograph, and a photo before we can start class. It’s not that bad. I mostly feel bad because Brayden seemed uncomfortable.
Once I make my introduction, I forget he’s in the room, I’m so focused on my job. Apparently, a few new “fans” appear within my students by the time the class is over. Of the twenty students, five more of them decide to get a picture with Brayden once class ends. I clean up the room while he manages to smile for the photos.
“Are you still glad you came?” I ask once the last person finally leaves.
“Mostly,” he says as he stands.
“Not a fan of fans, are you?” I ask as he walks over to take my hand.
Brayden frowns and begins to lead me out of the room. “It’s not that. Fans are great. The attention is what I don’t particularly care for, especially when they tell me I’m awesome or that they love me. I always feel the urge to tell them I’m a jackass off the ice.”
“You are not.” I grab my purse from the office, release the employee who was in the front, and it’s just us as I go about the nightly routine of shutting the store down. “Overall, I mean,” I add, flashing him a teasing smile.
“Anything I can help you with?”
I wave him off. “I can get it done faster alone.”
Brayden wanders around the store until it’s time to go. He walks me to my car, but instead of opening the door for me, he presses me against the door. His hands are cold when they slide underneath my shirt, causing me to shiver. Brayden rests his forehead against mine.
“Stay with me tonight?”
“You stay with me. Your bed is too fucking small, darlin’.”
My body warms at hearing him call me that. It’s one of the ways I know we’re fine. “Can we talk when we get to your place?”
Brayden tenses. Those green eyes stare at me hard. “Yeah.” His voice is gruffer than usual and his unease is clearly conveyed.
I guess it’s never good when someone says they want to talk. I slide my hands up to grab his neck. “I just want to clear the air some more.”
“Okay. Let’s go; I’m starving.” His hand reaches out to open the door, but his eyes remain locked on mine.
Lifting up, I kiss him softly. “Thank you,” I whisper as I pull away.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
Brayden seems at a loss for words, so he opens my door and closes me in once I slide inside. I run by the house to get Otis and pack a bag. The only way to trust Brayden is to do what I did on our run earlier today: tell him more about my past. He knows the brief recaps, but if I tell him more, I have to trust him more and he’ll also understand why I’m an idiot sometimes. Right?
Maybe he’ll open up more, too. My end game is us working. That’s it. All I want is to be with him. The trick will be doing what it takes to make it work. Hopefully, I’m on the right track. At this point, I can’t imagine being with anyone but Brayden. Those few days at my grandma’s house were torture while I tried to figure out what the hell was going on in my head and how I would move forward.
Since I walked Otis at my house, I head straight inside once I get to Brayden’s. He’s lying on the couch, the TV on, but muted. Otis is next to him in seconds. I take my bag up to his room before coming back downstairs to find Otis lying on Brayden. I roll my eyes.
“He’s in my spot.”
Brayden grins. “He loves me; can you blame him?”
“No, but he’s still in my spot. Otis, down.”
Otis huffs as he moves to the foot of the couch instead and I take his place. He huffs again, making Brayden laugh, but I ignore them both. Brayden slides his hands up and down my back once before resting them on my the lowest part of my back so his fingers are on my ass.
“You know,” Brayden says, “I never met my father.” I’m so shocked by him speaking first and by what he says, that my brain freezes. “Mom says he left town a few days after she told him she was pregnant. She never saw or heard from him again.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Yeah. I’ve never been inclined to find him, though. Between my mom and my coaches growing up, I know he’s not the kind of man I ever want to meet. Besides, he knows how to find my mom if he wanted to meet me and he’s never done it.”
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
“No. I never thought I was missing something from my life. Mom did too good of a job raising me.”
We fall into silence and I soon realize that’s all he has to share for the moment. Everything I planned to tell him left my mind like they crept out the back door while he was talking so I wouldn’t notice. “I want to be with you.”
“I know.”
“Obviously, I have some issues. I want to get over them.” I lift my head to look at him. “Can we?”
“It’s a tough pill to swallow that you walked because you thought you were pregnant.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
His eyes harden. “I don’t care about the specifics or any elaborations, Deanna. It boils down to that, doesn’t it?”
I refuse to answer his question. The specifics and elaborations matter to me. It adds to the big picture instead of narrowing it down. “It’s not like I was closing you out for good, no matter how the situation would’ve turned out. I just needed a few days to clear my head.”
“Without telling me that,” he points out.
I sigh and plant my face into his chest. His hands move up to my hair, and they dive in, massaging in soothing motions. “I’m all in,” I mumble into his chest, causing his hands to freeze. “As stupid as it sounds, I ran for a few days because I’m in this with you completely. That’s scary as fuck, especially when I don’t always know if I can trust my decisions or when your mom tells me more about something than you did. I was scared out of my mind and you weren’t here. It was the second best place I could run to until you got back, even though I had my doubts.”
Brayden’s heart beats steadily, but loudly under my forehead. “So, if I was here...” He lets the question trail off.
“I would have come here to you, though I would’ve been more terrified than I would like to admit.”
His hands leave my hair and his arms wrap around my body. “Have I ever let you down before?” He continues on before I can say no. “If I ever do—”
“It’ll be okay,” I interrupt. “I won’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve already let you down, so if you do, then we’ll be even.”
Brayden chuckles. “Fair enough.” He mostly looks as if he wants to be done talking. He leans forward to kiss me. “Happy with your conversation?” he asks as his lips move over mine.
“Yes. I feel better.”
“Good.” His lips move over mine again, but a loud beeping noise goes off. “Dinner,” he groans. “Just as I was about to eat.”
I laugh and move off his body. My stomach growls as if suddenly realizing how hungry I am. “I’ll get it; you stay.”
The rest of our night is spent eating, lounging on the couch, and then heading up to bed.
We’re there, lying together, utterly spent but satisfied, when I realize sleep is not coming so easily for me tonight. Brayden’s breathing is slow and even; I close my eyes and try to let it lull me to sleep. My eyes, however, have another plan. They keep opening.
“Darlin’.” Brayden’s hand comes up and covers my eyes. “Stop blinking. Sleep. I got you off enough times that you shouldn’t be able to keep your eyes open; I can’t.”
True. Yet, here I am. “I can’t sleep.”
“Deanna,” he starts.
“If you bring up your damn patience, I’ll hurt you.”
He laughs. “I wasn’t. I was going to ask what’s the problem.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know.”
He sighs and tugs me closer. “Sleep, Deanna.” He demands it as if my body has no choice but to listen to him. His fingers trail up and down my back and my arm. Between that and listening to his breathing and heartbeat, I eventually fall asleep.
“Pick any one you want.”
Jackson’s eyes widen. “I can have one of these?” His fingers rub the material of the kid’s jersey. “Momma said I can?”
“It’s a gift from me. I’m sure she’ll be okay with it. Do you want a blank jersey or one with someone’s name on it?”
“Mr. EJ’s,” he quickly says.
“Okay then.” I release his hand to flip through the jerseys and he grabs my shirt. The store is busy and it makes me relax to know that he’s holding on anyway. When Raelynn texted me and said Jackson wanted to see the game up close and EJ wrangled glass seat tickets, but Bree was being extra fussy so she didn’t want to go, I didn’t think twice about taking him. In fact, I felt really fucking proud. Raelynn trusted me with her kid. That’s huge in my book, especially so early on in our friendship.
With his jersey in hand, I double check that he can wear it and then go find my own Hayes jersey. We check out, step outside the store and off to the side, and then I help Jackson put his jersey on before slipping mine over my head as well. He thanks me at least five times. Ready to go, we walk hand-in-hand to our seats. The guys are just coming onto the ice for warmups.
I pick Jackson up, so he can see better.
He bangs his hand on the glass. “Mr. EJ!” he shouts as EJ skates behind the net. EJ’s eyes widen as he sees the jersey. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, so I’m assuming Raelynn talked to him early enough to let him know she wasn’t coming and I was.
“Hey, J-man,” he says.
I turn us a little, so EJ can see that Jackson is wearing his jersey. “He picked it out.”
“Thanks, Jackson. I think it’ll give me good luck.” He bumps his fist against the glass and skates off.
Jackson’s eyes follow him as he goes. “Do you think I’ll give him good luck?”
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
EJ taps Brayden on the leg with his stick and motions over to us. The expression on Brayden’s mostly blank face barely changes. I flash my arm, so he can see his number, and smile, though he doesn’t smile back. He shakes his head as he lowers to the ice to stretch and I swear, he’s hiding a smile.
A little while later, Brayden skates over while the guys prepare to shoot some pucks. He doesn’t say anything, but he tosses a puck over the glass. I catch it and hand it to Jackson, whose eyes are wide as saucers.
“I can keep it?”
“I guess so.”
“Wow,” he whispers. He clutches the puck and holds it close to his chest. “Everything looks so much bigger,” Jackson mumbles, his face pressed against the glass. He suddenly frowns and looks at me. “Will the goal noise be louder down here?”
“That sounds the same everywhere.” At least, it should.
The guys shoot pucks and one of them hits the glass a few feet away, causing Jackson to jump and cover his ears from the loud thwack!
“I don’t like the loud noises,” he whispers to me.
Glass seats may not have been the best idea then. “Does it scare you?” I ask him.
He shakes his head, dropping his hands. “I just don’t like it.”
“There may be some loud noises here, but it’ll be okay. They won’t last long. Will that be okay?”
Jackson frowns, but eyes the guys on the ice as they begin to leave. “Yes.”
Whew. Good. Hopefully, that’s true. I don’t know kids or Jackson well enough to know how to react if he started freaking out or something, other than to leave. We sit and wait as the minutes count down for the game to start.
Jackson sits on the very edge of his seat, the excitement spilling from his every pore. He can’t stop smiling either. The anthem is sung and then the puck drops. The first chant of the night starts and I look down at Jackson.
“Let’s Go Rebels!” I shout and then clap my hands in time to the rest of the crowd. Jackson’s laughter causes me to smile widely. The kid is too cute. He shouts with me and the rest of the people in the arena on the next two chants.
He startles when two players crash into the boards in front of us, but after shrinking away, he moves forward, more captivated than ever. Thank goodness. He asks me what’s happening a few times, but I let the poor kid down because I have no idea what’s happening. There isn’t a broadcaster here telling me, giving me terms to use that I don’t quite understand.
Jackson gets really, really, really hungry and thirsty, so we leave mid-period for food and drinks. We’re just settling in our seats, not paying a lick of attention to the on-ice action, or at least I’m not, when the goal horn blares. Jackson apparently was. He jumps up, knocking his hot dog, which was in his lap, onto the floor and cheers, jumping up and down. The guys are doing their hug-celebration thing right in front of us. Jackson screams and shouts.
“I think Mr. EJ scored!” he says to me.
“That’s great.”
Jackson sits back down. His gaze falls to his hot dog and his eyes widen in horror as he slowly turns his head to look at me. “Ms. Deanna, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay. Here, eat mine.” Thank god we both got plain hot dogs. “Focus on eating, okay?”
He nods and I lean down to pick up his mess and wrap it in napkins to throw away later. We also got popcorn, so I munch on that. Turns out, Jackson was right. They announce the scorer as EJ. Jackson grins around a mouthful of hot dog.
Once he swallows, he says, “I told you.”
“Looks like you are good luck for him.”
If possible, he grins wider.
The rest of the game goes more smoothly for us. The zing of the puck hitting the goal posts doesn’t bother Jackson. In fact, he thinks that’s the coolest sound ever. He’s not too fond of hearing the puck or a stick or bodies hit the boards or the glass, and he still isn’t a fan of the goal horn, but I think he loves glass seats. I keep having to pull him away. He wants to have his face against the glass or an inch or so away. I feel like that’s a safety hazard.
“I wish I could play,” Jackson says once the game ends with a Rebels win.
“Maybe you can one day.”
We’re sitting in our seats, waiting for EJ. He’s taking Jackson home and he wanted us to wait here for him instead of outside. The usher asked us to leave twice before finally leaving us alone. I don’t think she believed me when I told her EJ’s meeting us. But she didn’t come back after that second time, so I don’t care.
Jackson has a wistful look on his face as he gazes out at the ice. They need to get this kid in skates.
“Hey, J-man!”
Jackson whirls to see EJ coming from the left. “Mr. EJ! I gave you good luck! And look!” He holds up the puck. “Mr. Brayden gave me a puck.”
Speaking of whom, Brayden appears a few feet behind him.
EJ picks Jackson up. “That’s awesome. Did you have fun?”
“Yes. And look!” He tugs on his jersey. “Ms. Deanna bought it for me.”
“She did? Did you thank her?”
Jackson nods and yawns.
“Let’s get you home. I’m sure your momma is waiting to hear all about your night.” Looking at me, he says, “Thanks, Deanna.”
“No problem; thanks for the sweet seats. And tell Raelynn I want to do lunch this week.”
He nods and walks back the way he came. Brayden eyes me for a moment, his hands in his pockets, and then he holds out a hand, which I take.
“You didn’t say you were coming.”
“Surprise,” I say with a smile.
“Are you tired too?” he teases.
“Nope.”
“Some of the guys are going somewhere for food and drinks. Do you want to go?”
“Sure. This is kinda creepy,” I say, referring to the underbelly of the arena.
Brayden rolls his eyes and with his free hand pulls on the Rebels logo in the jersey. “Did you have to think about whose jersey you should buy?”
“Jackson tried to convince me to buy EJ’s, and he almost succeeded,” I lie. “I also thought about buying one of the Kessy jerseys.”
Brayden frowns at that. “You’re a terrible girlfriend, you know?”
My grin is cheeky and cheesy.
“What?”
“That’s the first time you’ve called me your girlfriend, aside from when you said it to Jackson, which I’m totally not counting.”
Brayden shakes his head like I’m crazy. We’re outside now and he opens the door to my car as soon as I unlock it. “Follow me there, okay?”
“You got it.” I give him a quick kiss.
A little while later, we’re at a restaurant and pub. Brayden heads to the table while I walk to the restroom. When I return, I spot Zane at the table, too. Nerves wash over me. After it finally hit me that he likes me, I’m not too thrilled to join the table, even with Brayden there. I decide to stall by stopping by the bar to grab a drink first.
That turns out to be a bad idea.
“Hey, Deanna.”
I turn to Zane. “Hey.” Then, I find the bartender and stare him down. Hurry up with my drink! The last thing I want is for Brayden to find me talking to Zane.
“I texted you; I was trying to check in,” he says, leaning forward to cut off my view of the bartender.
“I was with Brayden, so I didn’t see it. Things are obviously fine. You don’t need to worry about me or my relationship with Brayden.”
The corners of his mouth begin to dip into a frown. “But I do.”
“But you do not need to,” I repeat. He opens his mouth, but I grab his wrist. “Brayden is my boyfriend.” Zane winces. “We’re together, and, and I love him, Zane.”
His entire body is tense, but he nods and says, “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
I’m not so sure I believe him. At least, he’s not happy for himself. I let go of his wrist. The bartender finally brings my drink. I turn to leave Zane at the bar and see Brayden standing a foot away. I keep walking, not wanting to alert Zane to his presence. I grab his hand and pull him toward the table. Brayden’s squeezes mine hard.
Did he hear what I said? Did I actually say what I think I said? Or maybe he’s only pissed because he found me talking to Zane again? Brayden tugs on my hand to stop me from sitting down. He sits and pulls me into his lap. My body melts against his when he kisses my neck. That’s a good sign.
“I ordered us food,” he murmurs as I take a sip of my drink. “Is it time to say I told you so?”
“Not the place,” I reply. Zane returns to the table. Should I get my own seat? Wouldn’t that be the nice thing to do? When my hips shift, Brayden grabs them to keep me in place.
“What happened to my jersey?” His hands slide over my arms.
“This table is getting enough attention as it is.” I took it off and left it in my car, not wanting to sit with a group of hockey players wearing a jersey and have people think I’m some sort of groupie or something.
“Hey, what are hockey groupies called?”
“Puck bunnies,” Cal answers. He sits next to us. A slow grin forms on his lips. “They aren’t too bad on occasion.”
His brother rolls his eyes at that. “What about that one who wanted to know if we’d both fuck her at the same time? Is she included in the group of those who aren’t ‘too bad?’”
“She was crazy,” he agrees.
Three waitresses come with food and distract everyone. A huge plate is set before Brayden and me. I can’t believe Brayden ordered this. I glance over my shoulder at him.
“You ordered this?” I motion to the biggest burger I’ve ever seen with onion rings and fried pickles as sides.
“Just for you,” he says as I grab a fried pickle. “And that was before I heard that you love me.”
I nearly choke on the fried pickle, which only makes Brayden laugh as he pats my back and I get curious looks from his teammates. I grab my drink and take three gulps. Then, I elbow him in the gut. That is so not cool. Here I was thinking he didn’t hear me after all and he drops that bomb on me while I’m eating? He’s mean.
“Sorry, darlin’. Bad timing.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I glare at him. “You’re an asshole.”
He grins, leans forward, and I fall apart when his lips brush over my ear. “An asshole you love, Deanna.”
“Unfortunately,” I mumble, but all it does is make him laugh.