The bar erupted into loud hoots and hollers as the five large-screen televisions played the highlight reel from tonight’s game. My teammates were rowdy enough as it was, when you added the cheers of the fans, it was like you were back in the arena all over again. I’d wanted to head back to my place after the game with Stevie, we had an early morning flight to catch, but Bryson had always been a persuasive fucker. He never went home for the holidays, and tomorrow was Christmas Eve. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. His mother had passed away when he was little, and his dad, all that man cared about was how much money Bryson made. So when I’d told him I was taking off early, he’d razzed me about being pussy-whipped, but I’d known him long enough I hadn’t missed the sad flicker that had crossed his eyes. I’d faltered and now I was sitting at a table with my girl watching Bryson be a drunk asshole.
“Lord, he’s a sexy idiot,” Reagan said as she set her beer on the table and slid into her seat.
I chuckled. “The idiot part I get.”
Stevie giggled and I squeezed her thigh under the table. She was wearing skin tight jeans and the jersey I’d gotten her last week. My jersey. My number. The blue color made her skin glow, and my last name scrolled across her back spoke to the primal rumblings inside my chest. I’d been unsettled ever since Ben had rolled into town and back into Stevie’s life. When she’d first told me he was coming, I’d tried to not let it bother me. But it did. It bothered the hell out of me. The green monster Mia had kept well-fed for so long had woken up again, and I was angry with myself for letting the idea of Ben get the better of me. Stevie wasn’t Mia.
Stevie’s phone vibrated against the table, and as if I summoned him by the mere thought, I watched as the color drained from Stevie’s face.
She groaned. “I have to take this.”
“What? All the important people you know are at this table,” Reagan said with a sarcastic smirk.
Stevie exhaled an irritated breath. “It’s Ben. It’s probably about the expense reports I gave him to work on while I was gone.” She eyed me warily. “Two minutes.” She kissed my cheek, and my stiff shoulders relaxed enough I was able to fake my way through a smile.
I winced at the timid way she said, “Hello,” before walking toward the back hallway of the bar. Ben changed her. Insecurity fell off her in waves, and it drove me nuts he could make her feel that way with a simple phone call.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Reagan said, and I turned to look at her.
“That’s what Bryson’s been saying.” I chugged down the rest of my beer and placed the glass onto the table.
“Well, maybe Bryson is smart after all.” She gave me a big smile. “Ben’s an asshole, has always been an asshole, and will always be an asshole.”
“You think?”
“I know.” She twirled a piece of her pink hair between her thumb and forefinger. “Stevie has always been... bold … audacious… and she never knew how gorgeous she was either. I remember in high school, the guys we’d go to punk shows with, they practically drooled all over her dyed red hair and green chucks. She never noticed, always stayed in the friend zone, and then one day, this jerk, some rich prick in her AP math class, asks her out on a date, and she thinks she’s struck gold.”
“Ben?” I asked even though I already knew this story. Stevie told me she’d met him in high school.
“He was everything she wasn’t and I think it’s why she fell hard for him. Her mom… well, you’ve met her.”
I had met Stevie’s mom last month, briefly, after she’d brought her to a home game instead of Reagan. It was easy to see where Stevie had gotten her looks. Her mom was beautiful for an older woman, a touch on the hippy side like Stevie had mentioned. I remembered she’d actually woven flowers into her braid.
“Her mom went through men like I go through Oreos, I think Ben became an out.”
I knew all of this. Ben had been a security blanket. She’d told me everything Reagan was saying, but it still didn’t make me feel any less unsettled about her white knight being back in town.
“She’s different around him.”
Reagan nodded and took a long drag of her beer. “He wanted a wife, not Stevie. He wanted the ideal, not the awesome girl she was. He cut her down inch by inch, year by year, until she lost who she was. He tried to change her. And he had for a while, until she finally woke up. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“The night you guys first met, you gave her a push. You just didn’t know it.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Oh, I know, but I think you gave her back the fight.” She smiled at me. “You gave her back the bold.”
My heart was a hammer. The bass of the music blaring overhead made the rhythm of my pulse disorganized. I’d allowed jealousy to wind its way around my ribs and spine, and for what? I was pissed he got to spend more time with her than me. I’d hated how he’d looked at me last week in her office, like I wasn’t good enough for her. How he’d attempted to cut me down with his snide ass remark about my job. How his eyes had challenged me as if to say “you think you’ve won.” But maybe I had won after all. Stevie was with me.
Mia was with you, too.
The voice inside my head leaked through my confidence and my lips set into a line.
“I think he realizes what he lost. I think he wants her back.” My voice was stone and Reagan’s gaze softened at the corners.
“Mark…” She stared at me for a few seconds. “Don’t be that guy.”
I couldn’t help it but I laughed without humor. “What guy?”
“The jealous boyfriend. Ben is a fucking tool, trust me, Stevie is all about your ass.”
The grim line of my lips parted into a real and genuine laugh. “My ass?”
Reagan snorted. “You have nothing to worry about. Give Stevie some credit.”
My laugh quieted. I wasn’t giving Stevie any credit at all. Trust was something I struggled with, but that wasn’t Stevie’s fault. “I trust her.”
“Good.” She sipped her beer. “When are you going to give me your blessing?”
“Oh God, here we go.” Stevie’s voice made my heart jump, but it was the warmth of her hands, her fingers kneading into my stiff shoulders that made me melt a little.
“What am I missing?” I asked as Stevie lowered her hands and slipped into her seat.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her in for a quick kiss.
Reagan scoffed. “Bryson.”
I pulled away from Stevie’s lips dazed. “What about him?”
I was a jerk for thinking it, but I was more interested in asking Stevie what Ben had wanted.
“I’d like to know him better.” Reagan’s tone matched the coy grin growing on her face.
“Oh, hell no. Absolutely not.” I shook my head, and Stevie’s soft laugh made me smile.
“Why not?” Reagan whined.
“Are you serious?” I scratched my fingers along the bristle of my bearded jaw. “He’s a love `em and leave `em kind of guy, Ray. I wouldn’t want you to—”
“Get hurt? I’m a big girl.” She picked up her beer and stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me… there’s a hockey player I’d like to meet.”
“You warned her.” Stevie laughed softly, and I watched as Reagan eased her way into the pack of wolves.
I chuckled when Bryson painted on his million-dollar smile, pulling Reagan in for a hug instead of a handshake. It was his M.O. He was a good guy when he wasn’t thinking with his dick. He’d told me the same shit Reagan had told me. He’d said to trust my woman and to trust myself. I didn’t want to listen to the guy who’d never been in a real relationship, so it was nice to hear Reagan echo his sentiments.
“It’s bizarre.” Stevie leaned into me and I draped my arm behind her chair. “They look kind of cute together.”
“Don’t get any ideas. That man is only after one thing.”
“So is Ray.” She let out a long breath. “When she’s not with Pete.”
“I gotta meet this Pete guy.”
“You will.”
I shifted in my chair, my heart beating its way up my throat, as I asked as nonchalantly as possible, “So, what did Ben want?”
She yawned. “I messed up some of the figures.”
Her eyes met mine and I found a few specks of defeat muting the blue burst around her irises. I pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “That bad?”
She shrugged, and I wondered if I imagined the glassy appearance glittering behind her lashes.
“He was a jerk about it. Said I added more work for him.” Her voice was tight. “I told him I’d fix it on the plane tomorrow and send him the spreadsheet when I was finished, but he told me he didn’t want me to mess it up even more.” My jaw clenched as I watched her fight her emotion. “Then he said, ‘have a great time in New Hampshire’ and hung up on me. Everyone at the office is stressed. I get it. But I’m not the only one taking off for the holiday.”
It wasn’t the time off. It was that she was with me. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, but I didn’t give a shit. Stevie looked like she was about to fucking cry, and all I wanted to do was drive over to her office and teach that prick some goddamn manners.
I took a few even breaths and lifted her chin with my thumb. “Mistakes happen.”
“It’s a quick fix, I don’t understand why he’s…” She let the statement fade and exhaled. “It doesn’t matter.” She smiled up at me and the space between my lungs and heart contracted. It ached as I witnessed her confidence fall away again. “I’m tired, ready to go?”
“Yeah, baby, let’s go home.”
The plane passed through the clouds slowly as we reached cruising altitude. Stevie took a sip from her mimosa, and I pressed my lips together, hiding my growing smile. Her hair was tied into a knot on the top of her head, her face was clean of makeup, and her eyes were bright as she stared out the window. She looked so beautiful, and as much as I wanted to blame the pressurized air of the cabin for my difficulty breathing, I couldn’t. She took my breath away.
“Nervous?” I asked and she turned to face me.
“A little.” She chewed the inside of her cheek.
I laced her fingers with mine. “Molly, my sister, she loves all that punk shit you listen to.”
She laughed and bumped me with her shoulder. “It’s not shit. It’s… classic.”
I grinned at the crinkle between her brows. “It sounds like shit, classic or not.” Instead of another bump on the shoulder, she squeezed my hand and I chuckled. “Is that supposed to hurt?”
“Maybe.”
I leaned down and kissed the back of the hand I was holding. “You’ll never overpower me,” I teased.
Her cheeks heated and she gave me a shy smile as she whispered, “What about this morning?”
I swallowed as I thought about how good it had felt to have her lips on me. After we’d gotten home last night, we were exhausted enough we’d both passed out. I was so tired I’d slept through my alarm, but Stevie had found a better way of waking me up. I’d thought I was dreaming, when I’d opened my eyes, the view in itself was enough to make me come. Stevie with her dark hair spilling over my thighs, her mouth—those lips surrounding the head of my…
“Looks like we’re going to hit some weather up ahead, please keep your seatbelts fastened at all times until further notice.” The pilot’s voice pulled me from the memory.
“You can wake me up like that tomorrow, too, if you want.”
“No thanks, I’d like for your mom to think I’m not a total slut.”
“And why would she think that?” I laughed at her serious expression. “My room is in the basement. We can have all the loud sex we want.”
Stevie’s eyes darted to the seats in front of us and she squeezed my hand again. She spoke so quietly I had to lean in to hear her. “There will be no… shenanigans happening in your parents’ house.”
“Then we’ll stay at a hotel.”
“Mark.”
“Stevie.”
She bit her lip, holding back a smile as my lips separated into a winning grin.
“Don’t be impossible. It’s disrespectful and—”
“My family is fucking crazy, Stevie. You’ll see. My mom will try to ply you with chocolate, my dad will talk your ear off about cider and his innovations in tree grafting, while my niece will most likely make you cry at least once because she has no filter and is as honest as they come.” Stevie’s lips gradually pulled into a face-splitting smile as I rattled on about all the inadequacies of what she was about to face. “I’m not joking, Stevie, sex will be the only way you’ll make it through three days with them.”
Her head rolled back and she laughed. “You mean the only way you’ll make it.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
She leaned over the armrest and pressed her lips to my cheek. The tension that had hidden itself inside my stomach untwisted and I cupped her face with my palm.
“They’re gonna love you.” I placed a kiss to her forehead.
She exhaled a shaky breath as I pulled away and she whispered mostly to herself, “Sure.”
I was about to tell her to stop worrying when a flight attendant placed her hand on the back of my seat and said, “Excuse me.” Her smile was nervous. “I’m not supposed to do this sort of thing, but…” she whispered, her eyes flicking over my shoulder to Stevie and then back to me. “But I’m a huge fan.” She blushed and I gave her a friendly smile.
“Not a problem,” I said and offered to shake her hand.
She took my hand in hers and shook it awkwardly a few times as she gushed, “My husband is gonna die when I tell him Mark Carmelo was on my flight.” Her formal tone slipped into a southern drawl. She reached over me and held out her hand to Stevie. “And can I say, the pictures do not do you justice. You are just as pretty as a peach in person.”
The color of Stevie’s cheeks matched that of the flight attendant’s. “Umm… thank you.”
“That article last month in Hockey Hunks, the one about the hockey wives and girlfriends, I thought you were the prettiest.”
Stevie gave me a blank look and I shrugged.
“Well, don’t let me bother you, but if you wouldn’t mind...” She released Stevie’s hand and reached into her pocket, handing me a small slip of paper. “Would you sign this?”
“Of course.”
She looked over my shoulder nervously as she handed me a pen. “My name’s Penelope.”
I scribbled a personalized thank you with my name across the slip of paper and attempted to hand it back to her.
“You too, sweetheart.” She smiled down at Stevie.
Humor lit her eyes as I handed her the pen and piece of paper. She signed her initials under mine and something I didn’t have a name for settled inside my chest as I looked at our names together on the strip of paper. Proud. Warm. Unsteady.
The attendant practically squealed as she said thank you, and once she was well out of earshot, Stevie sank into her chair. “That was surreal.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to strangers getting excited about my signature. I mean, I understand they admire the talent I have, the game, but who cares if I sign some random piece of paper.”
She tilted her head to the side. “It’s a piece of you, Mark, and they get to keep it forever.”
Her words sucked the air out of my lungs, or maybe it was the thoughtful look inside her eyes, either way, the way she was looking at me… I wanted to keep that feeling forever.
She raised her gaze to the ceiling and puffed out a laugh. “I don’t understand why she wanted me to sign something. That was weird. Famous by association, I guess.”
“You’re prettier than a peach, that’s why.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I’ll have to look up that article when we land.”
“I never read anything I didn’t commission myself through my agent. It’s why I don’t parade my life on social media. I’ll give answers when I want, on my time, and anything else they choose to say about me or you, it’s all speculation, don’t bark up that tree, babe.”
A few weeks ago Bryson had shown me a thread in some forum where a bunch of women were discussing whether or not Stevie was considered “plus-sized.” I didn’t even know what that meant, and from the few comments I’d read, most were negative. It pissed me off. I couldn’t imagine what Stevie would’ve thought if she read that shit, or any woman, for that matter. Size was a number, and whether Stevie was plus or not, she was sexy as fuck. Bryson had boiled it down, though, when he’d said the women in that feed were envious trolls.
I rested my palm on her thigh and I liked how perfect it fit there.
“It’s something I’m adjusting to. Ray tells me the same thing, ignore it.”
“Have I told you how much I like Reagan?”
She gasped as she sat up, giving me a megawatt smile. “I almost forgot. She texted me.” Stevie tapped the top of my hands with her fingers. “Bryson shared a cab with her, and when she invited him in to her place… get this… he said no.”
“He said no?” The surprise in my voice made her giggle.
“He took her home, walked her to the door, kissed her on the cheek, and sent her packing. Crazy, right?”
“I’m speechless.”
And grateful.
I definitely needed to thank him for not fucking around with my girlfriend’s best friend.
“You’re gonna give him crap, aren’t you?”
“So much shit.”