Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Josie wrinkles her nose. “That sounds…um…sterile.”
My laugh is genuine, because despite how screwed up the situation is, I also have to find humor in it. “I’ve decided just to take it day by day and see what happens.”
Something in my voice causes Josie’s eyes to narrow. She shakes her head at me. “No, I don’t believe that. I can see it in your eyes. Hear it in the words you’re not saying.”
I cock an eyebrow at her. “And what’s that?”
“That you really have feelings involved and I’m not sure they’re reciprocated,” she says bluntly. “If that’s the case, you’re going to get hurt.”
There’s no helping the fact I have to glance back at Marek when she says that. When I give her my attention again, I admit, “I’ve never stopped loving him, and yes, it’s not reciprocated. But he has forgiven me, so all I can do is try to look at this as a fresh start.”
“Those are easy words to say,” Josie murmurs. “I know this is tough, but it seems like Marek is in a good place now. This could work out all for the best.”
“Maybe,” I say neutrally. I don’t want to get my hopes up.
Josie points to the clock ticking down on the giant square scoreboard hanging over center ice. “Want to go get a beer and something to eat before the game starts?”
I nod at her and we make our way out of our seats and to the steps that lead up to the concessions. Marek had scored us some amazing front-row tickets beside the Cold Fury bench, which wasn’t where his ordinary season tickets were. He apparently had traded with one of the older veterans with better seats so I could have a great view for my first Cold Fury game. He may not have given me a jersey, but he had done some work to make sure this was a great experience for me.
By the time we get our drinks and food and get back to our seats, the game is about to start. Marek is a second-line player so he’s not out on the ice, and I try to force myself not to look over at him on the bench. In all the years that Marek and I were together and he played hockey, I always admired how focused he was. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t smile at me, and he paid attention to what was going on right in front of him whether he was on the ice or not. Today has been no different, and while they were out warming up he never looked my way once. This did not surprise me, as I expect his focus now is a million times more honed than it ever was before he became a professional player.
In that moment just before the referee drops the puck at center ice, all my excited nervousness seems to boil up to where I feel like I might explode, and when the puck finally hits the ice and the two players scramble for control, I burst out of my seat and scream, “Let’s go Cold Fury.”
When I sit down, it’s to perch my ass on the edge of my seat leaning toward the glass so I can keep my eyes riveted on the game.
Josie snickers beside me and elbows me in the ribs. I tear my eyes away from the action to look at her. She merely gives a short jerk of her head toward the bench and my eyes travel in the direction she points.
To my surprise Marek is sitting on the bench looking at me with an amused smile on his face. The look lasts no more than a millisecond before he turns back to watch the game. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face and I turn back toward the ice.
While I manage to pay attention most of the time, I still throw some subversive glances toward the bench. Marek doesn’t look at me again, but that one glance was enough.
* * *
—
Okay, it’s completely awkward the way Josie and Reed canoodle with each other as they sit across from Marek and me. Reed has had his arm across Josie’s shoulder the entire time and she sits tucked in close to him as we nurse ice-cold beers and eat chicken wings, nachos, and sliders. After every sip of beer or if the conversation lulls for only a microsecond, his mouth is on hers for a kiss. Sometimes his lips will go to her neck. Her hand stays pressed to his thigh—at least I think it’s on his thigh—and I wonder only because sometimes Reeds shifts in his seat.
During one such moment where Reed and Josie are lip locked, Marek leans over and whispers loud enough for anyone close by to hear, “Were you and I ever that obnoxious?”