Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance, Jami Davenport [best reads txt] 📗

my life had betrayed me, but hockey was always there.

Beyond my heart straining to keep up and my lungs gasping for more oxygen, I heard something.

I wasn’t alone.

Fuck.

I bent down, hands on my knees, and coasted, finally allowing my body to recover from the punishment I’d given it. The sound of skates pushing across the ice came closer. I didn’t look for fear I’d see Patrick, and I didn’t want to deal with him right now.

“Paxton!” The voice was familiar. I turned slightly to see Gene Smith bearing down on me. He caught me easily now that I’d stopped my frantic race around the ice.

“I’m impressed,” he said as he slowed beside me. “I didn’t know you were capable of skating that hard.”

His words both insulted and flattered at the same time. I didn’t answer him because how did a guy answer a statement like that?

Thank you for not having any faith in my abilities?

Thank you for discounting me like my father always has?

Nah, better to zip the lips than disrespect one of the greatest hockey players who ever lived even if he did disrespect me.

Mr. Smith narrowed his gaze and studied me closer. “Are you okay?”

Shit, was it that obvious?

“Fine,” I lied.

“Right. Follow me. Let’s have a talk.” He wasn’t asking, he was ordering. Skating away, he stepped off the ice and sat down in one of the seats on the glass. Reluctantly, I sat next to him. Still breathing hard and covered in sweat, I wiped my brow with my sleeve and focused on a point across the ice.

“Is this about Naomi?”

How the fuck did he guess that? I shot him a questioning look, and he nodded, knowing he’d guessed correctly.

“Paxton, you’re a good kid, and I like you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Naomi is the female version of your brother. She’s a heartbreaker.”

I nodded, as if I didn’t know.

“You have to know she’s always been enamored of Patrick.”

I clenched my jaw so hard I expected it to shatter under the pressure.

“You have a lot going for you. Just watching you tonight, I see what Coach Garf sees in you. I predict you’ll have a long and successful career in the league.”

“Thank you.” I managed to choke out the words, even as my throat closed up.

“I love my daughter, but she has her faults. She doesn’t know what she wants. She often changes for who she’s with, trying to become what she thinks they want. I fear she used you as a surrogate for your twin. When did she start showing interest in you as more than a friend?”

I met his gaze as the realization slammed me like a fist to my gut. “When I began to play better, and Patrick struggled a little.”

“I’m somewhat responsible for her behavior. I was so upset she wasn’t a competitive skater or hockey player, in fact is scared to death of skating, I pushed her toward dating a hockey player who was going somewhere. It’s hard to leave behind the sport you’ve dedicated your life to, and I’m no different. I wanted to live vicariously through a young player on the verge of an illustrious career. I wanted to witness those feelings again, even if I wasn’t the one in that situation.”

“You think she started showing interest because I was the star for a while and went back to my brother when he regained his star status?”

Mr. Smith—Gene—didn’t answer my question directly. “You don’t need to settle. You have too much going for you. Find someone who will love you for the person you are, not because they’re torn between you and your brother and can’t make up their mind.”

“Did she say something to you? Do you know something?” Was he speculating or did he have more knowledge?

Mr. Smith smiled sympathetically and patted my arm. I hated the pity I saw in his eyes. “No, but trust me. I know.”

Then I realized the truth. He was in this building tonight. “You saw them this evening, too, didn’t you?”

He nodded. The sympathy in his eyes almost undid me. I wasn’t imagining things. He’d drawn the same conclusions. “Naomi is confused and conflicted. Do you want to subject yourself to a back-and-forth that’ll destroy your confidence and eventually ruin your career?”

“Uh, no.”

“She needs several more years to mature. She’s a late bloomer. Did you realize she was looking into transferring to Vegas next year?”

“She is?” That made sense on one level. Her dad lived in Vegas the majority of the time. On the other hand, she hated being under his thumb. A move to Vegas would land her right back in that situation. Which brought me to the conclusion she was following Patrick to Vegas, assuming he went pro next season.

“That’s what I understand.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith, for your honestly. I do appreciate it.”

“Call me Gene.” He stood, squeezed my shoulder, and clomped down the hallway in his skates.

I sat in the arena for a long time, running through options in my head. As hard as I tried to find another solution, I came back to the same one every time.

34

Not Okay

Naomi

Kaitlyn might not be my most sympathetic friend, but she was the most honest.

On Thursday night, I sat in the team laundry room and spilled my woes to her. She listened without comment as she folded towels.

“Well, what do you think?” I asked when I finished my sad tale.

“I think you worry too much.” She rolled her eyes and blew out an exasperated breath.

“That’s not helpful.”

“Fine. I’m guessing he’s getting a shit-ton of advice from a shit-ton of directions. He’s at a loss as to what to do, and you are being presented by some as part of his problem.”

“So what should I do?”

“Stop fretting so much. Worrying only makes you crazy and doesn’t solve anything. Whatever happens will happen.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Look, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. If he wants space, give him space. He’ll be back.”

My phone beeped, and I looked