Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Fourteen

Finn

T ime moves on, but some things never change.

As the next few weeks pass, Sammie and I do more and more together. As a result, our friendship grows stronger.

That’s the time-moving part.

What remains the same is that I still want her more than ever.

I want more than friendship.

I want more from her.

I want her body again.

And I want her mind to be obsessed with me like I am with her.

Dammit, I just fucking want her .

Too bad I can’t have her…or more.

Sammie is dead set on being just friends.

It’s not like I’ve made any moves to find out, and I don’t plan to. I mean, I don’t want to fuck up what we do have. It’s just a vibe I get that she’s not going to ever date me.

Fuck, that hurts.

What will really crush me, though, is if she starts dating someone else.

That might truly kill me.

Or I’d have to kill him.

And then I’d be in prison, and my hockey career would be over.

I also couldn’t hang out with Sammie anymore.

So, yeah, not a good outcome any way you look at it.

I’m clearly in a funk here.

Not only does the Sammie situation have me frustrated, but our team has been slipping in the standings. We unfortunately had a bit of a losing streak right when all the other teams in our division started really kicking ass.

Now we may not even make the playoffs this year.

In fact, it’d be a miracle if we do.

Things are that dire.

That’s led me to a decision—if we don’t make the playoffs, I’m going to head up to Alaska for a while and spend some time at my cabin. It’ll be good to decompress and get away from it all.

Though I will miss Sammie.

You should ask her to go, a little voice inside my head chirps.

I think it over and conclude it’s not a bad idea. I’d love to show her around the area where I grew up. And my cabin is pretty nice.

It has three bedrooms, and two of them have their own adjoining bathrooms. We’d each have our own personal space. I bet that would make Sammie feel more comfortable about going with me.

Hmmm, but what about her jobs?

Oh, hell, I’m sure they’d be here for her when she got back. Surely she can take some time off from work, right? Not to mention, she supposedly has that secret stash of money, her lottery winnings or whatever.

Lottery winnings, my ass.

I’m going to find out one of these days where that cash came from. I know it’s not an inheritance from her mom and dad, as she mentioned once that they had moved to Florida a few years ago and still live there.

That subject came up when I told her my parents live in Washington state now. They relocated there several years ago when I got really good at hockey.

Sammie and I are growing closer and closer. So much so that it’s getting to the point where I wouldn’t feel like a complete ass to just flat-out ask how she came into the money.

Then again, maybe I would feel weird.

Aw, hell, enough!

I clearly need something to do.

We had practice this morning, but I have off the rest of the day. I asked Easton if he wanted to do something, but he had other plans. I checked with Nils, too, but he’s busy with Ellie—as per the usual these days.

I could call Sammie, but I just saw her last night. We went to a movie. It was our third time doing that.

Oh, and I just thought of something else—Sammie is working a double today at Applebee’s.

So, yeah, that leaves me here, lying on my sofa in my entertainment room, in nothing but boxer briefs and a Thunder T-shirt, staring at the ceiling and thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking, like how I want someone I can’t have.

I can’t help it, though.

We just have such an easy, comfortable connection. And we sure as fuck have chemistry. It’s like we’re fighting against that all the time.

I know I am, and I see conflict in her eyes sometimes too.

Man, that night really was something.

Fuck.

I just know in my heart that we’d be great as a couple.

“Give it up, dude,” I groan out loud as I rest my arm over my face and close my eyes.

Maybe I’ll take a nap.

But now my phone is ringing.

I know it’s not Easton or Nils, and Sammie is working.

Reaching over to the coffee table with my eyes still closed, I fumble for my cell.

Grabbing it, I hold it above my face and open my eyes.

It’s Sammie!

I answer that motherfucker so fast, it’s not even funny.

“Hey,” I say with probably more enthusiasm than I should. “What’s up?’

“Grrr,” she growls. “I hate to bother you, but I’ve kind of gotten myself involved with a project here that I could use a little help with.”

“Project?” I ask, confused. “At your place?”

“Yeah.”

“But wait,” I say, sitting up. “I thought you were working a double today.”

“No. I do a double tomorrow at Applebee’s.”

“Ah, got it. I guess I misheard you last night.” I lean back on the sofa. “Okay, so what’s this project you need help with?”

“Well,” she begins, “I was dusting in my living room, and I was thinking how I don’t really like where my bookshelf is. I haven’t for a while now, but it’s really been bugging me lately. Anyway, it’s to the left of two long windows, but I think it’d look way better situated between them. You remember the layout in my place, right?”

I was only in Sammie’s townhouse once. It was a couple of weeks ago, on one of the rare occasions when she agreed to let me pick her up. I was supposed to just text when I got there, and she’d come out.

But I was like fuck that , I wanted to go to her door and get her.

Yeah, kind of like a date.

I also wanted to see the inside of her place.

Sammie didn’t seem mad that I was on her doorstep, ringing the bell and not texting like we’d agreed upon. She even asked me in and gave me a tour of her townhouse.

It’s really fucking nice, modern with all the latest appliances and shit. The color scheme is fairly neutral, beige tones and off-white, but there are some definite feminine touches—floral pillows and soft pastel accents.

I can definitely picture the layout of her living room. And I recall the bookshelf. It’s tall and wide and packed full of books. Looked like a heavy motherfucker too.

“Yeah, I remember,” I reply. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to move that thing by yourself.”

“Ummm…” She blows out a breath. “That was the plan. I figured I could scoot it over to between the windows. I took out all the books and stacked them in piles on the floor. But even empty, when I tried to move that stupid bookshelf, I couldn’t get it to budge. It’s just too heavy, Finn.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I bet it is.”

“So, can you help me with it?” she asks in the sweetest, softest voice.

Like I’d say, “No, you’re on your own, kid . ”

“Of course I’ll help you,” I tell her. “Let me throw on some jeans and shoes, and I’ll be right over.”

Sounding super excited, she says, “Thank you, thank you, Finn. You are a lifesaver.”

I laugh. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she replies. “Still, I’m going to repay you somehow. I promise. If you ever need something I can help with, just let me know.”

I almost tell her, “Don’t worry about it,” but then I think about a way she could repay me—if we don’t make the playoffs, she can come to Alaska with me.

I’m not saying anything right now, though.

I’ll ask her when I see her.

And so that I can indeed see her as soon as possible, and add in the fact she needs my assistance, we wrap up our call.

After I get dressed, I’m out the door and on my way to help my favorite person in the world—Sammie.