The Puck Drop by Jaqueline Snowe

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Naomi

I had to blink twice to make sure what I was seeing was in fact, reality. The asshole hotshot on the team sat by Michael on the bench, their heads together before the start of the next game. I’d spent almost every night with Michael the past two weeks where we talked about the team and hockey nonstop. We’d start at my place working on the project then move to his, where we got naked. But during all these nights, he never once hinted he maybe got along with Cal.

He’d never said it outright, but it was clear he didn’t like the guy, so this new development was interesting.

Seeing him focused with his kind eyes and his easy grin, my heart somersaulted. Cal Holt was a dick, and there Michael was, being kind to him. Ugh. Michael Reiner was a dangerous kind of guy. He was one of the nice guys who pretended to be tough and unflappable. He reminded me of Cami in a way, putting on the show for everyone else and only letting a few inside. I was one of those people—the ones on the inside who knew what he was going through. I also realized the feelings I had for him were growing. Exponentially.

And yet, I couldn’t say a word about it. Was I afraid? Yes. Was I worried he’d put an end to it? Also, yes. It would hurt bad when we stopped… hooking up, but our friendship was worth it. I enjoyed my time with him too much to try and make it something it wasn’t meant to be.

“Naomi, hey,” my dad’s voice pulled me from the weird trance. He flashed a tight smile at me as he walked toward the bench. Speaking of getting hurt… would Michael be like my dad some day? Blowing off his family for a sport?

“Hi,” I said, my face flushing red. It’d been weeks into the season, and nothing had really changed between us. The familiar sinking feeling of being an embarrassment had me crossing my arms over my chest.

Michael and I entered the rink early before people arrived to show my dad and Hank the first part of the project—the full analysis of Erikson and Hansen. The project that my dad displayed zero interest in.

“Your sister should be coming to the game tonight,” he said, rocking back on his heels as he stared at his phone. “I have her in my seats near the box.”

Of course he did. “Cool,” I said, unsure how to respond. I was here to show him my project and instead, we talked about Cami. As per usual.

The only difference this time was that my irritation wasn’t directed at my sister. It was all at my dad.

The sounds of skating and laughter had us turning toward the ice. Cal and Michael stood, and Michael put a hand on Cal’s shoulder. I tensed, waiting for Cal to shove him off or do something stupid, but it never happened. My dad frowned and tilted his head to the side, the exact same mannerisms Cami used when she was confused.

Michael hopped over the side of the bench and made his way to where we always sat. He flashed us a grin. “Hey, Coach, Naomi.”

“What happened just now?” my dad asked, jutting his chin toward the ice.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Cal Holt.” My dad put his hands on his hips and leveled his gaze at Michael. It was the dark brows and furrowed lines on his face that made players fear him. Cami and I got scared as kids when he pulled that look, but Michael’s grin grew.

“We came to an agreement, Coach. He’s going to stop being a dumbass.”

“Come with me. Now.” My dad put his hand on Michael’s shoulders, and they headed down the stairs toward the ice. Michael shrugged like it was no big deal, but a little pink entered his cheeks.

“What about the profiles?” I asked, my shoulders sagging. I spent hours preparing a preview of them for tonight.

“Later, Naomi. This is more important. Team stuff always take priority. You should remember that, Reiner, for when you’re a coach. Now, tell me what the fuck I just witnessed.”

They disappeared from view as they headed toward the locker room, and my stomach twisted. Team stuff takes priority.

It sure did over his wife. Over his daughter… at least, one of them.

I went to our usual seats and got comfortable, waiting for Michael to join me sometime later. The interaction with my dad proved one thing very clear—this situation with Michael was dangerous. Hockey would come first. The constant worry that I wasn’t enough, that I was an afterthought would only get worse. God, it’d be like dealing with dad’s shut out all over again. Keeping him at a distance as best I could meant everything. I chewed the hell out of my nail by the time Michael finally returned.

This wasn’t a date, but my heart still went haywire when he walked my way twenty minutes later. He wore dark jeans, a Central hoodie, and a backwards hat.

He was stupid hot. The white teeth, the messy hair, the playful glint in his eyes. And he’s into me. Well, into my body. It was my job to protect my heart.

“You’re blushing, Fletcher. You better tell me what’s going on in that pretty, genius mind of yours.” He sat down, and his cologne washed over me. Clean laundry, coffee, and musk. He kept distance between our faces, but his thigh pressed against mine, and I loved it there.

“Nothing,” I said, way too quickly, and he laughed.

“You’re a shit liar. Honestly, might be the worst I’ve met. Want to play strip poker sometime?”

It was my turn to laugh, and I slid him a glance. “We’re thinking along the same lines then, hm?”

“Naomi, you slay me.” He put a hand over his chest and pretended to faint. “Don’t tease me like that when I have to sit here for three hours in the cold and we both know I’d rather be naked with you,” he whispered, leaning back into the seat looking relaxed as hell. His arm dangled right next to mine, so close our fingers touched.

He didn’t immediately pull away, and it sent a thrill through me. That maybe he was okay if people knew about us. Wait, did I want people to know we were hooking up? Maybe? Even if he’d crush me at some point? 

I frowned, unsure what I wanted anymore. We weren’t in a relationship, and I wasn’t ashamed of him, but whoa. Sweat pooled in my underboob, and my skin felt too tight for my body. We were literally fuck buddies who got along. We weren’t exclusive...well, shit. Mona and Kellie were chill about exclusivity. It wasn’t a big deal to them. Monogamy wasn’t in their top three priorities where it was for me. Maybe it was my parents’ divorce or seeing Cami go through guy after guy, but being with multiple people at one time sounded like a nightmare.

Is he sleeping with other girls? We aren’t together.

“Hey,” Michael said, nudging my knee with his. He bent closer to me, so close his breath hit my face. “What’s wrong? I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about your dad or not…”

“No, it’s not that,” I said, the mention of my dad making everything worse. “I mean, he upset me but that’s… it’s nothing.” I chickened out. Plain and simple.

“If we’re going to be friends, don’t pull that shit with me,” he said, his voice more aggressive than I’d heard before. He pressed his lips tight together as his stare intensified.

“It’s… just… well,” I stammered, pushing my hair out of my face to buy some time. This was horrible. Why did these thoughts have to intrude now? Why not later, when we were in bed together?

A loud buzzer went off, and the players got on the ice, hip-hop music blasting from the speakers and drowning out my voice. Thank god. It bought me a few more minutes to figure shit out.

I could be honest, but he’d think I was making this into something more. What if he did want to hook up with other women? I couldn’t stop him. He had all the rights to. I chewed on my hangnail and felt Michael’s stare on me through the entire warm up. Ten minutes later, the game started, and sound returned to a normal level.

“Should be a good game, huh? I hope Hank talks to him about using the profiles.”

“Please don’t change the subject. If something’s bothering you, especially if it’s me, I’d like to know so I can rectify the situation. You matter way too much to me to try and guess what’s in your head.”

Fuck. I closed my eyes and pushed out the words. “We never talked about exclusively hooking up. It’s been on my mind.”

“Oh.”

I opened one eye and found him frowning. He pulled at a loose string on his jeans and worried his bottom lip. He ran a hand over his face before clearing his throat. “Are you thinking about getting involved with someone else?”

“What? Me? No.”

His gaze snapped to mine, and his lips curved into a smile. “I’m not either, so why is it on your mind then?”

My face heated like a thousand suns, and I groaned. “So, we’re both not interested in other people.”

“Correct, and I don’t have any plans to go after anyone else either. I like spending all my time with you, but if you think differently, don’t be afraid to tell me.”

His words washed over me, warming me all the way to my soul. Even the freezing temps in the rink couldn’t stifle the fire in my heat. I like spending all my time with you. God, did he not realize I felt the same? He was being so mature about all of this… it threw me off. “You’re not like the guys I’ve been with.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much,” he said, those damn dimples teasing me. He placed a hand on my knee and squeezed for a second before he winked.

If someone asked me right now why we weren’t dating, I wouldn’t have an answer. My dad being his coach? My fear of him hurting me? Those were both bullshit. It’d be so easy to fall into a relationship with him. Even after just a couple weeks of hooking up, we spent every hour together that we weren’t in class or sleeping. Sure, we didn’t do sleepovers. That was the unwritten rule between us, but god, I wanted to know what it’d feel like to be with him.

For real.

I voiced none of that and focused on the game. Hank had provided me with stats from the team data specialist so I didn’t need to track in game data, but I still watched and tried to find patterns. I observed behaviors from the guys and added the qualitative information to the profiles. Who punched a wall when they were pissed? Who ignored high fives from teammates? Who led on the bench instead of sitting alone and pouting? All of the information helped form the full profile of the players, and my blood fucking hummed when Cal Holt reached out for a high five to one of the less talented guys.

“Whoa.”

“Hm?” Michael said, leaning onto his elbows. It was zero-zero, and he kept mumbling about needing a stronger offense.

“Cal. He’s acting different.”

“Good. I think I found a way to pull the stick from his ass.” He barked out a laugh and whooped when Cal passed to Hansen who scored. “Fuck yeah, let’s go!”

He jumped up, and his energy was contagious. People all around us cheered and hit his back as he yelled, loudly. If I wasn’t mistaken, Cal looked up in the stands at Michael for a second, and Michael nodded at him.

“What did you do?”

Michael sat back down and let out a long sigh. “His past is his to tell when he’s ready, so I won’t break that trust. But he realized he’s not alone in his experiences. No one is. He just needed someone not afraid of him to call him out.”

“He needed a friend,” I said, the urge to kiss Michael almost unstoppable. He was such a damn good person. Of course he would help out the punk kid and befriend him. My eyes stung just a bit. “You’re incredible, Michael.”

“Hey, thanks. Two compliments today. My lucky night.” He wiggled his brows.

Irritation prickled my spine. “I’m being serious.”

His smile fell, and he nodded. “I’m sorry. Praise is hard for me, but I can tell you that your words lit me up inside. Seriously. Coming from you…” He whistled. “It means more than you know.”

Shit. The heavy look in his eyes, like longing, had me freezing in my seat. Michael stared at me like he wanted all of me, and god, I wanted that too. My throat bobbed with an uncomfortable swallow, and after a full thirty seconds of eye contact, he tore his gaze away from me.

Our easy conversation shifted tonight into something more. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but when the game ended and Michael asked me to come back to his place, I couldn’t say no. He’d befriended the worst human I’d ever met. He pushed me outside of my comfort zone. He was such a decent human being with a huge heart, and damn. I couldn’t just be friends with him anymore. Not with all these thoughts and aggressive urges to keep him. I was a moth, and he was the flame.

Even though I knew at some point, I’d get hurt, I couldn’t stop myself because even in data, there was always the chance of an anomaly. An exception. It was rare but god, I wanted to be the outlier so bad.