If You Love Me: Chapter 10

Practice goes relatively smoothly. I say relatively, because every time I look in Roman’s direction, I’m reminded of what I did in the shower this morning. I need to get a grip. Maybe hypnotism would work.

Vander Zee skates up beside me. “Grace is open, don’t watch him from the sidelines, try to connect with him whenever you have the chance. Take the initiative.”

“Of course, yes.” I want Vander Zee to see me as competent, not someone who needs hand holding.

I skate over to Grace who passes me the puck. “What do you want to get out of this season?”

“I’ll be happy if I make it through without losing any teeth, courtesy of my teammates.” The sarcasm is strong with this one.

“Really? That’s your goal? Last year you were close to breaking records.”

“I’m the outsider, so this year is about survival again.” He flips the puck on the end of his stick, catching it twice before he flicks it to me.

His phrasing catches my attention. I know all about survival. I catch the puck before it touches the ice, tossing it up and letting it roll along the back of my stick before I pass it back. “What if it didn’t have to be about survival? What if it could be about something else?”

He catches it easily, sends it up, spins his stick behind his back, and still manages to land the puck on his blade, tossing it in the air once more before sending it my way. “It’s always survival for me, Coach Forrester. I get close to good things, and then they disappear.” There’s bite to his tone, but also another emotion. Sadness maybe. And resignation.

“Really?” I flip the puck back and forth half a dozen times before I flick it toward his non-dominant hand so he has to work a bit. “So you don’t think five years in the pros counts as a good thing?”

“My family sure doesn’t,” he grumbles.

“What about your grandma?”

He fumbles, and I catch the puck before it touches the ice.

“Nice moves, Coach Forrester,” Roman calls from the net.

I startle and almost drop the puck, but recover and shoot it instead. Even though Roman isn’t expecting it he stops the shot before it crosses the line.

“Nice save, Goalie,” I reply.

“I know what you’re doing,” Grace says.

“And what is that?”

“Trying to figure me out, get in my head. It’s a losing battle, Coach Forrester. Not worth the effort,” he replies.

“I can give you the name of a good therapist.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “I’d rather eat a cactus.”

“Good to know. Think about another goal. Survival is a start, but I want to see more from someone with your record on the ice, Grace.” I pat his shoulder and skate over to retrieve the puck from Roman.

His gaze locks on mine as I approach, and I feel the heat in it course through my body. “That’s some fan-fucking-tastic stick work, Coach.”

How he manages to make that compliment sound illicit is beyond me.

I arch a brow and he grins, eyes darkening.

I hold out my hand and he drops the puck into it. His voice is low. “And good work with Grace. You’re already making gains.”

The praise settles low in my belly, igniting another fire. One I need to ignore. But his approval is something I still crave, and my breathy response gives me away.

“Thanks, Goalie.”

Hemi pokes her head in my office later that afternoon. “A bunch of us are heading to the Watering Hole at five, if you want to join us.”

“Let me check in with my sister. I want to make sure it doesn’t conflict with her schedule.” Fee is at practice with Callie until six. In theory, I could go for half an hour, still beat them home and have dinner started. Plus, it’s another opportunity to connect with the team, but I want to make sure I’m not stepping over lines I shouldn’t with Vander Zee first.

“Sure thing.” Hemi smiles. “We’re heading over in about twenty. If you can make it work, just pop by my office and we’ll walk over together.”

“Sounds good.”

Hemi leaves to shut down for the day. Before I message Fee, I stop by Vander Zee’s office. He’s intense, but fair and I appreciate that about him. His door is open, but I still knock.

“Come on in.”

He’s standing at his whiteboard, players marked by their numbers.

“Planning out starting line-up for the Ottawa game?” I ask.

“Yeah. It works to keep Grace and Madden on separate lines for the most part.” He taps Palaniappa’s number on the board.

“But that will have to change eventually,” I supply.

“It will,” he agrees.

“Hammerstein gave me some good advice, and I’m working on Grace.” I wish I could get to the bottom of this faster. It would be better for the team and could win me points with Vander Zee. It’s a challenge, though, when I don’t work closely with the variable who’s been with this team longer.

“You mind me asking what the advice was?”

“He asked me who my best coaches were when I played. They were always the ones I connected with on a personal level. The ones who were relatable.”

“That’s true.” He nods thoughtfully. “You know, when my daughter Tallulah came here for her co-op placement in high school it changed how the players saw me. They treated Tally like one of their sisters. Watched over her, took care of her. Hell, she’s close with the girls in the office. And I’m more than just a guy barking orders and pushing them to play better and smarter.”

“I can see that.” It’s the segue I need. “Hemi invited me out to the Watering Hole. I wanted to make sure it was okay before I accepted the offer.”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay. It’s a good way for the guys to get to know you. And you know, if you can get Madden to open up, that’d be great.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but he holds his cards close to the vest.”

“He sure does. If I didn’t have two kids in opposing extracurriculars I would make the effort, but I can’t clone myself or my wife.”

“Fair. Is it okay if I head out?”

“Absolutely. I’m doing the same shortly.”

“Okay, thanks Coach Vander Zee. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I head for the door.

“Forrester.”

I pause and turn back to him.

“It’s good to get to know them. But when you’re on the ice you’re in charge and what you say goes.”

“Yes, sir.” There’s a fine line between gaining their trust, being relatable, and still being in charge, and I want him to see me as capable of taking criticism without having to be babied.

He nods once and turns his attention back to the whiteboard.

I message my sister on the way back to my office.

I exhale the emotion that comes with her permission. She’s been forced to grow up so quickly. I want to see her living, thriving in a way I never did.

I meet up with Hemi, Shilpa, and Hammer, and we pass Coach Thomas and Donnie on the way to the elevator.

“You on your way out, Forrester?” he asks, scanning our group.

“I am. Unless you need me for something?”

“You all heading to the Watering Hole?” Arnold asks before Donnie can reply.

“That’s the plan,” I say.

“You’re welcome to join us, but I think your boys have practice tonight?” Hemi phrases it as a question.

“We’re working on the next generation of Terror players, isn’t that right, Donnie?” Coach Thomas claps him on the shoulder.

“Sure is.” Donnie replies.

“You all have a good time. See you on the ice tomorrow, Forrester,” Coach Thomas says before they continue down the hall.

We leave the office and head down the bustling street.

Hammer frowns as she consults her phone. “Tally can’t come tonight. She has dance and an evening class.”

“Her schedule isn’t very forgiving this semester,” Hemi says.

“She’s a dancer? What kind?” I ask as we push through the doors to the Watering Hole.

“Modern contemporary. She’s double majoring in dance and kinesiology. It’s a big transition for her,” Hammer says.

Dred, Rix, and Essie wave us over, and I’m welcomed with hugs.

Dred moves over, and I slide into the booth beside her. “I’m so glad you came tonight! Did dinner make it home okay last time?”

I smile. “It did, and it was a hit.”

“You’ll have to bring your sisters out so we can meet them,” Rix says.

“I would love to. Callie plays hockey five nights a week, and Fee is a senior and has a portfolio class, so it’s busy.”

“Portfolio? Is she in the arts?” Rix asks.

“She goes to the Art Academy.”

“What kind of art is she into?” Essie asks.

“She’s a dancer, but she’s also into mixed media art.”

“We definitely need to get her out. Tally went to school there.” Hemi accepts a glass of soda water.

I pass on the margaritas and order a ginger ale. “That would be a great connection for her.” Tally seems nice, and Fee could definitely use some new friends.

The bell over the door tinkles, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

A moment later, Roman appears in my periphery. He stops to hug Hammer and say hi to everyone. He’s so sweet with his daughter, and I once experienced that gentle side, but I also know how absolutely fucking filthy he can be when the clothes come off…

And when his gaze lands on me, I break out in goose bumps, and my entire body turns dewy. How can I spend the entire year like this? Always on alert. Always aware of his presence. Always turned on or anxious or both.

I give my attention to Dred, whose smile has turned sad as she watches Hammer and Roman. “It’s pretty special, isn’t it?”

“They’re so close,” I murmur.

“They are. They go out to bars and everything. They genuinely love spending time together.”

“My stepdad was super involved with my sisters like that. Not the bars, obviously, but they did things together all the time.” Maybe that’s part of the reason my relationship with my dad is so difficult. I long for that closeness, and it’s just not possible.

“I can’t imagine losing that.”

Flip, Tristan, and another man I haven’t seen before come through the doors. They head straight for our table so Tristan can say hi to Rix.

Essie pulls out her compact and quickly applies some gloss.

Tristan introduces the other man as his brother Nate before they join the guys lining the stools at the bar. I want to find a way to talk to Flip without being obvious. It’s impossible with so many of the guys around, though. I’m aware approaching him at the wrong time could make things worse instead of better.

I refocus on the girls, and making connections here, instead.

“How’s Nate doing?” Hemi asks Rix.

She nods. “He’s okay. It’s an adjustment, but I think it’s good for him.” She turns toward me. “Nate was planning to pursue a master’s, but he was offered his dream job, so he’s living with us until he can find a place of his own.”

“It’s so great that you have the space,” Hammer says.

“It is. And I think it’s good for Tristan and Nate, especially with Brody close by at Tilton U.”

“I’m kind of in love with the fact that my sister and Tally happened to find each other,” Essie muses.

“Right? It’s so perfect,” Rix agrees, then turns to me again, probably reading the confusion on my face. “Sorry, you have no idea what we’re on about, do you? Brody is Tristan’s youngest brother. He’s living on campus at Tilton this year, just like Tally and Essie’s younger sister, Cammie. I’m attending classes there too, but I’m partly online, and it’s a huge campus.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” I make a mental note that Tristan and Essie have university age siblings that go to Tilton.

“Lexi, we have something for you and your sisters!” Hammer passes a Terror tote bag down the table.

Dred does an excited seat shimmy. “It’s your welcome gift!”

“You didn’t need to do that,” I say as the bag is placed in front of me.

“It’s just something fun,” Hammer explains.

I remove the tissue paper. Inside is a pink shirt with the phrase Badass Babe Brigade. There are more pink things folded below it. “This is so cute.”

Hemi is all smiles. “Welcome to the Badass Babe Brigade. You’re an official member now.”

“We modified Callie’s shirt, because she’s eight, and we don’t want her wearing swear words.” Hammer winks.

“Smart.” I laugh, but I’m a little choked up. “Thank you. This is really… Thanks.”

Dred gives me a side hug. “Welcome to the Terror family.”

It’s terrifyingly amazing to be part of the group. And in the back of my mind, I wonder if Hammer would be quite so receptive if she knew the truth.

I’m folded into another hug by all the girls before I excuse myself to the ladies’ room. I need a moment, because I’m suddenly overwhelmed. I’m so used to doing everything on my own. People can’t accuse you of stepping on toes or climbing the ladder on the backs of favors if you don’t accept help. I didn’t realize how much I needed this camaraderie, to feel like I belong.

I’m not paying attention when I leave the bathroom and run right into a broad chest. I inhale deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of Roman’s aftershave. His hands curve around my shoulders as if to steady me, and every part of me is electrified by the touch. Other than a handshake, and the occasional puck pass, there’s been no physical contact. I should step back, separate myself from him, say something, do something. But I don’t want to.

I tip my head up, and my heart stutters in my chest, then gallops. There’s concern in his eyes, but the familiar heat is just as present. I need to keep my guard up with him, remain professional, but right now I feel so raw and needy. I long for the connection we shared. Ache for it in a way that’s become uncomfortably familiar lately.

“You looked upset. Are you okay, Lexi?” His thumb sweeps along the exposed skin at the collar of my shirt, sending a shiver down my spine.

It’s a damn wonder I don’t moan at how good it feels to be this close to him again. I long to melt into him. To feel the strength of his arms around me. To not be the one holding everything together.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” My eyes close, and I will myself to step back, but I can’t. “This is…I shouldn’t—” But even as I say it, I press my hand to his chest and feel his heart hammering just as hard as mine. “I can’t be alone with you.” Because I don’t know if I could control the visceral need I have for him. With him, I belonged somewhere—even if it was brief, for a moment I felt like I was his. And I want that again, so badly.

His tongue drags across his bottom lip. “I’m trying to stay away from you, but I’m losing the battle.” He drops his hands and fists them at his side, eyes full of the same desperate longing that makes my chest ache at what could have been, if I’d made a different choice all those years ago.

But then I wouldn’t have this job.

“You should go,” he says gruffly.

I nod once, but he skims the back of my hand as I pass. Like he can’t help himself. Like his need matches mine and it’s too strong to deny. He might still be angry about me showing back up in his life out of the blue, but we’re both powerless against the pull. I keep walking, though, because screwing up my life isn’t part of the plan.