BLOCKED (Boston Terriers Hockey Book 3) Page 12

  I hear Clover’s words from earlier marching through my mind. “Think of this as a fresh start. Maybe it’s time for you to stop hating Shaw. Besides, we both know you don’t really hate him. You still care, so don’t bother denying it.”

  I do care—I care about him too much. No matter how I’ve tried to displace Shaw from my heart, there’s a part that stubbornly holds on to him and would welcome him back with open arms.

  “I just told you that I want to be friends again and you don’t have anything to say?” His frustration is obvious.

  “I’m sorry. I was thinking.”

  “If you don’t want to, then just speak up. I’m a big boy. I promise I can take it.”

  My eyes drift from one side of his chest to the other, taking in the wide breadth. He’s grown so much since we were together. He was still a boy then, and now he looks like a full grown man.

  What would it feel like to be held in those large arms? Or to lie against his solid chest?

  I can’t stop the unbidden thoughts from flying through my mind, like a plane towing a message banner. He looks sexier than ever. Like I haven’t noticed.

  “Okay, I guess your silence is my answer.”

  “No,” I raise my voice. “I was still lost in my thoughts. Whether I let you back into my life or not isn’t a decision I want to make lightly. If we’re going to be friends, you have to promise me that Marshall won’t know anything I tell you. If I want him to know something, then I’ll tell him myself.”

  “I can make that promise. Marshall and I aren’t like a couple of gossiping school girls. We don’t talk about plenty of things.”

  “That’s good. I’m off limits for discussion topics. And if he mentions me, you can tell him that whenever we’ve bumped into each other I’ve seemed happy.”

  His eyes trail over my face, as if he’s looking for something. “Are you, though?”

  “Happy?” I ask, and he nods. “For the most part. I mean, who’s happy all the time?”

  “Are you glad you transferred to B.U.?”

  I smile. “I am. I’m only sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I had a boyfriend, and I let him convince me to stay. I was ready to transfer at the end of last year.”

  “Are you guys still together?” He leans forward, as if what I’m about to say is important, like he doesn’t want to miss my answer.

  “No. We broke up in November, but he still tried to talk me into staying at U.N.H.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t listen. It’s nice having you here.”

  “He wanted things to be more serious than I did.”

  “I know what that’s like. I actually had a similar situation myself.” Knowing he was with someone burns like a ring of fire in my stomach. I didn’t expect him to remain single or celibate, but hearing him confirm my suspicions hurts.

  Our order number is called out. Shaw jumps to his feet. “I’ve got this.”

  I don’t react. I’m still stunned at his admission and torn up about him being with someone else. How many girls has he been with? Halfway through his junior year, I’m imagining he’s had his fair share of sex. And probably with more partners than I can or want to fathom.

  You weren’t sitting around waiting for him either, I remind myself.

  Shaw sets our tray down in the middle of the table like a trained waiter. “I’m impressed you didn’t spill our drinks,” I tell him.

  “I did some waiting on tables when I first got to college.” He grins, sitting down once again.

  Removing my soda from the tray, I raise the straw to my lips, taking a sip of the ice cold beverage. “Do you work now?”

  He finishes chewing his sandwich bite before replying. “I work for an online service.”

  “That’s a vague answer if I ever heard one. You could be doing just about anything for them.”

  “I chat with single women and get paid by the minute.”

  “What?” I squawk, my mouth half full of egg salad.

  He chuckles. “I’m fucking with you. I write reviews for products.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  He tips his chin at me. “Ha, you’re the one who believed me.”

  “Hey, we haven’t been in each other’s lives for a long time. How was I supposed to know what you’re capable of?”

  “I like to think you know what kind of person I am. Time away shouldn’t change that.”

  “Sometimes, the person you think you know best, is the one you know least.”

  “Is that supposed to be some veiled insult for me?”

  “Not specifically. Unless you think it applies to you.”

  “No way. I’m the same person I’ve always been.”

  Yeah, the guy who broke my heart.

  I feel a momentary twinge of mournfulness in my chest. Will it forevermore be this way between us?

  Will I always think of him as my ex-boyfriend or the boy who broke my heart?

  Will we ever get to a point where the regret and sense of grief aren’t so heavy?

  Can we get back to being comfortable with one another?

  I want to be able to spend time with him without the past being on my mind, but I’m not sure that’s possible.

  We eat the remainder of our dinner mostly in silence. I’m lost in my musings about the past and where we go from here. I’m not sure what’s on Shaw’s mind, but I’m not going to ask. We’ve already done enough sharing for one day.

  When we leave the deli, we both pause on the sidewalk. It feels awkward, like the end of a first date and not knowing whether a kiss should happen or not. Except, I’m well aware there will be no kiss for us.

  “I’m going to walk you home,” Shaw tells me.

  “You don’t need to.”

  “Mar—I want to.”

  I know he was about to say Marshall would want him to. It’s good that he caught himself, because that’s the last thing I want to hear. He can take responsibility for his own actions.

  “If you want to, I’ll allow it.”

  “You couldn’t really stop me, Maddie.” He smiles. “I’m just a bit bigger than you.”

  “Ha, just a little.” I roll my eyes. “Let’s go. I don’t have all night.” My tone is stern, but inside I’m smiling because he wants to walk me home.

  “How are your classes going?” Shaw questions.

  “So far, so good. I’m really enjoying the art class I’m taking. It’s about the history of photography.”

  “Sounds interesting. You’ve always liked taking pictures.”

  “I still do.”

  “Did you sign up for any clubs?”

  “No, I wasn’t sure how much free time I’d have, and I didn’t want to occupy every single moment.”

  “That’s smart.”

  “How’s hockey going? Are you still as excited to be playing for the Terriers as you were before you started college?”

  He grins. “It’s going really well. I love everything about playing for the Terriers. I wish college was eight years instead of four.”

  I gasp. “Blasphemy.”

  “I’m not kidding. Playing for B.U. has been amazing. I’ve met some great guys and our coach is incredibly motivating.”

  “I’m glad it’s worked out so well for you.”

  “Thanks. Why don’t you come to our game tomorrow night?”

  “Oh...well...I...”

  “Come on. Don’t make up some lame excuse why you can’t. You told me you used to go to the games when we were in high school, and you came to some of our college games, so I know you like hockey.”

  “You remember me telling you that?”

  “I remember it all.”

  Aww. My insides do a little happy dance. “What time’s the game?”

  “It starts at eight.” He looks my way, his eyes pleading with me to say yes.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Of course I’m going, but I’m not about to tell him. Let him worry. Although, most lik
ely he couldn’t care less whether I attend or not.

  We arrive at my building and I stop. “This is me. Thank you for walking me home. Even though it was unnecessary, I appreciate that you did.”

  “There’s no need to thank me. We’re friends, and friends look out for each other.”

  I smile and nod, instead of arguing against what he said. We’ll see how trying to rekindle our friendship goes over the next few weeks.

  I wiggle my fingers. “See you later.”

  He shoves his hands inside his pockets. “See you Friday night.” He winks.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shaw

  Waiting, I watch Maddie enter her building. My eyes follow her, soaking up every second I can before she disappears from sight. And still I remain, feet stuck in place on the sidewalk, wishing things were different between us. Wishing I could turn back time and redo the night that it all went wrong.

  Maybe we’d still be together, going stronger than ever.

  But since I can’t, I’m going to focus on what is attainable—being friends. For the time being, that’s all we can be. Maddie isn’t ready for more. Hell, she might change her mind about hanging out with me altogether.

  With a last lingering glance at the dorm, I begin to retrace my steps back to the library where my truck is parked. I could’ve offered her a ride home, instead of walking, but that would’ve been too quick. I wanted the chance to talk to her and get her to agree to be friends. I feel pretty good that things went as well as they did.

  After all the time we’ve had apart, I realize I’m always going to love Maddie. No one can take her place or repair the cracks she left in my heart. If I had my way, she’d be mine once again, but I don’t know if that’s even possible. She’s not ready for that conversation, and if I push her it could ruin everything.

  Marshall still doesn’t know about us either. But that’s not going to keep me from what I want. I made the mistake of letting Maddie go once, and I’m not about to let her slip away again.

  My teenage arrogance got the best of me, and I figured she did me a favor by sparing us the stress of being together while we were at college. A fresh start all around seemed like a good plan at the time.

  But there’s nothing better than the passing of time to help you see the error of your ways. I should’ve fought harder to make her understand what happened that night and to show her that I’d never cheat on her.

  Lying on my bed, I close my eyes and replay every part of tonight. As cool as Maddie played it, I don’t think she’s impervious to our magnetic connection. It can’t be all one-sided. I’m positive I’m not imagining the chemistry between us that’s still very much alive.

  Scrolling through my phone, I find Maddie’s number under the contact name Blue Eyes. Smiling, I remember when I changed the name. It was the night of her graduation, when I finally admitted to myself how much I liked her.

  Tapping her name on my screen, I type out a message.

  Me: Thanks for having dinner with me. It was great to spend some time with you.

  When five minutes pass without a reply, I set my phone on my nightstand and burrow under the covers to get warm.

  The frat house I live in is drafty as fuck. It was built in the early nineteen hundreds and I don’t think the windows have ever been replaced. But it’s large enough to provide all the rooms we need and the rent is reasonable.

  My text alert sounds and I snatch my phone up, eager to see who it is.

  Maddie: Thank you for dinner. It was delicious. I’m still stuffed.

  I grin, excited that she wrote back. I was concerned she’d go back to pretending I don’t exist, and I can’t make progress with her if that happens.

  Me: I could eat another sandwich right about now.

  Maddie: (I’m rolling my eyes) Of course you could.

  My grin widens as I read her reply.

  Me: Will I see you at my game?

  I send the text before I change my mind. Crossing my fingers, I hope that it doesn’t make her shut down.

  Maddie: I’m thinking about it.

  Me: Don’t think, just come.

  In my hand, my phone stays quiet, no immediate response from her, and I silently curse myself for pushing her. I’m about to admit defeat when her reply comes through.

  Maddie: Okay, I’ll be there.

  Me: I’m looking forward to playing for you.

  She probably won’t take my message literally, even though I mean it. In the past I’ve always enjoyed having her at my Terrier games. I’ll be even more invested in getting a win, if that’s possible.

  This game has been a battle from the start. We scored, then they scored, and it kept repeating until finally with two minutes left in the last period, the score is Terriers 4 and Huskies 3.

  “Stay focused, Shaw, you’ve got this,” Donovan encourages. “We’re almost done.”

  I nod to let him know I’m still fighting for the win. My eyes sweep up the crowd of cheering fans to my right and zoom in on Maddie. She came.

  I don’t know what made me look up to that precise spot. It was almost as if I could feel her eyes on me.

  I read her lips as she cheers, “Come on, Shaw.”

  I give her a quick nod and my attention returns to what’s going on out here on the ice. I wait for the puck to drop between Donovan and a player from the other team. Donovan gets hold of it first, but then gets locked up against the boards. One of the Huskies knocks it free with his skate and another steals it, barreling my way at full speed.

  Here we go. Here we go.

  My eyes are glued to the puck as it glides across the ice straight toward me at what appears to be warp speed. I make the block and it deflects off me and back onto the ice. Another Huskies player tries to knock the puck in, and I drop down to the ice in the splits, preventing them from tying the game. The clock runs out at the same time and we’ve secured a win over one of our biggest rivals.

  The fans cheer wildly, the sound is deafening. My teammates crowd around me, thumping me on the back. We shuffle toward the opening in the boards as a group before we exit the ice single file.

  I remove my gloves and helmet on the way to the locker room. Sweat drips down my face, and I can’t wait to get all this equipment off and take a shower. Even I can’t stand the smell of me.

  I peel off my jersey and shoulder pads before I sit down to remove my skates.

  Coach comes in when I’m down to my compression boxers and chugging a bottle of cold water.

  “Great game, guys. You fought until the very end, and that’s what it takes to win games. Masters, that was a hell of a stop on that last shot.” My teammates shout out their agreement before coach continues, “We have another big game coming up and I want you all ready. I’m sure you’re all going home to sleep now.” Everyone laughs. “And if you’re not, don’t do anything stupid. We don’t need anyone missing a game because they’ve been caught drinking on campus.”

  “So, you’re saying we should drink off campus?” Marshall jests.

  “You would take that from what I’m saying.” Coach shakes his head. “Just be smart and get some rest this weekend. We start back in on Monday and it’s going to be backbreaking work. Everyone should heed my warning. I don’t want to hear any whining when it happens. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” we reply in chorus.

  “Okay, then. Great fucking game, and I’ll see you on Monday afternoon.”

  “How’s your groin feeling after that split?” Marshall asks.

  “I think I pulled it,” I laugh, and it turns to a grimace when I raise my leg.

  “Marshall will rub it for you,” Donovan chimes in. Marshall flips him off.

  “I’m hoping a shower and a few beers will take care of the problem, followed by a good night’s sleep.”

  “I don’t know how much sleep you’re going to get. There’s a party going on at the frat,” Marshall mentions.

  “Shit. I forgot about that.” I was hoping I could convince
Maddie to grab a bite to eat with me, but she’s probably long gone by now. Grabbing my phone, I type out a message.

  Me: There’s a party at the frat. Want to come hang out with me?

  She replies almost instantly.

  Maddie: I don’t want to be in the way.

  Me: In the way of what? Me drinking a beer and eating some pizza?

  Maddie: How do you feel about sharing your pizza?

  I smile and picture holding a slice up to her mouth while she takes a bite.

  Me: Usually I’m against it, but I’ll make an exception for you.

  Maddie: I feel honored. I’ll see you there.

  Yes. Yes. Yes. I barely resist the urge to pump my fist in celebration.

  “What’s got you all smiles?” Marshall asks.

  “My mom. I was just texting her to tell her how the game went.” I hate lying to him, but this is the way it has to be until Maddie and I are on firmer footing.

  “I can’t imagine being that happy to text my mom,” Marshall says.

  “I’m a better son than you are.”

  “No, I think it’s that your mom actually cares how your game went and mine doesn’t.”

  Marshall never admits his mother’s shortcomings. He makes excuses for her whenever she does something questionable. And I never comment because I know he sees her true colors. He doesn’t need me to bring them to light.

  “Dude, I’m sure she cares. She might not know how to show you,” I offer.

  “Nah, if she did, she’d come to one of my games. She hasn’t seen me play since I was twelve.”

  “That’s okay, your dad doesn’t miss a game,” I try to console him.

  “He doesn’t. He makes up for her lack of interest.”

  “I’m jumping in the shower. Do we need anything for the party or is everything set?”

  Marshall feigns a scowl. “It’s like you don’t know me. How many years have we been friends?”

  “Too many,” I joke.

  “Who’s been taking care of all the parties at the frat for the past year?”

  “You have. But need I remind you that you are the president?”