One Pucking Destiny (Crane Hockey #4)

Chapter 24

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

ARI

T he year has flown by, thanks to my class schedule, volunteer hours, and Bash’s visits. Since he dropped by in March, he’s been stopping by every two weeks. He can usually only stay a night due to our crazy schedules, but even that is beginning to feel like too much. I’m starting to rely on his visits, and this thing we have going on between us is feeling less and less like a hookup and more like a relationship. When it comes to Bash, I’m confused about a lot of things, but there’s no question that I don’t want to take anything deeper than it already is. In fact, it would probably be best to pull back on the reins.

My final year of school is going to be brutal. As busy as I am now with my volunteer hours, it’s nothing compared to the school’s clinicals. The last year of my degree is the most important. I’m going to be doing everything from diagnosing illnesses to performing surgeries. It’s crucial that I’m focused and taking in every bit of information I can so that when I graduate, I can be the best veterinarian I can.

Today is game five of the Stanley Cup finals at our home arena. If the guys win tonight, they’re the Cup champions. If they don’t, they move on to game six in Vancouver.

I think I would actually be considered a hockey fan at this point. I look down at my number 18 jersey, belonging to Beckett, and smile. I’m actually looking forward to the game.

Prior to Bash, I’d barely sat through an entire sporting event in my life. During one of his weekend visits, he insisted that I learn the game, stating that my mom is a big part of the organization, after all. We spent a weekend watching hockey with Bash commentating. Seeing the game through his eyes was thrilling. It’s hard not to love something that he loves so much. His joy is infectious.

Now that I understand what’s going on, I enjoy it.

My very pregnant mom hurries into the kitchen and grabs her purse off the island countertop. She riffles through the bag. “Have you seen my keys?”

“Yeah, I saw them over by the bowl of bananas. ”

“I always keep them in my purse. Why would they be by the fruit bowl?” She retrieves her keys from the other side of the kitchen.

“Probably that pregnancy brain.” I scoff.

“Ugh. You’re right. It’s the worst. Last week, I drove to work in my slippers.”

“Ma, maybe you should sit this one out. You’re due to pop any minute. The PTs can handle it.”

She shakes her head. “No, this is my job. I’m fine. As long as the little one stays inside me, I’m working. Plus, I want to be there. This could be the night that Beckett’s dream comes true.”

“You can still be there. But go as a wife, just sit and enjoy the game. Don’t work.” I slide my feet into my tennis shoes and tie them up.

“If I’m already there, I might as well work. But you know, you don’t have to get there so early. The game doesn’t start for a couple of hours. You can hang out here and come right before it begins.” She slides her arm through her purse and looks around the kitchen, her brows furrowed.

“I don’t mind going in early. I like to hang out with you as you work,” I say as my mom continues to look around. “What are you doing?”

“I feel like I’m missing something but can’t remember what it is.”

Taking stock of her attire, she’s dressed with actual shoes and looks great for someone who is forty weeks pregnant. “You seem to have everything. Maybe your coat?”

She nods. “Yes, I do need that. Okay, well then, I guess I’m ready.”

“I’m definitely coming with you. I don’t trust you on your own,” I tease with a half laugh.

“Hey, I am fully capable.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” My tone is playful.

The ride to the arena only takes a few minutes. Avoiding the game traffic is definitely another perk of going in early.

I probably shouldn’t, as it’s not my place, but I follow Mom into the locker room. I love watching her work. It’s truly remarkable to see her in her element. She may not be able to remember to take off her slippers before she leaves the house, but she moves about the locker room radiating knowledge as she stretches some of the guys, wraps ankles, and touches base with the players.

“Ari!” Jaden gives me a high five. “Good to see you.”

“Good luck today!” I say as he walks past.

Cade tells me he’s glad I could make it to a game. Beckett gives me a hug, letting me know I’ve chosen the best jersey there is. More high fives and excited greetings come from Max and the other guys. The positive energy is palpable.

Finally, Bash walks by, sporting his beautiful smile. “Meet me in the hall,” he whispers.

My eyes dart to my mom and then around the room to make sure nothing looks out of the ordinary. I wait a minute, and then I head out of the locker room.

The moment I step out of the hallway, Bash takes hold of my hips and pulls me toward him as he plants a kiss on my lips. I push him away. “What are you doing?” I whisper-hiss. “We’re out in the open.”

“So?” He shrugs. “Ari, we’re about to play game five of the Cup finals. We could win it all tonight. A good luck kiss from my girl is in order.”

My mouth frowns as I shoot him a stare. “I’m not your girl, Bash. We’ve talked about this. You can’t just kiss me whenever you want.”

He blinks and opens his mouth to say something before he closes it again. With a slow, disbelieving headshake, he utters, “Whatever,” and continues toward the ice without a backward glance.

My chest tightens, and I press the heel of my hand against it in an attempt to relieve the pain. I feel awful about hurting Bash. He’s so sweet, and I don’t want to cause him pain. But sometimes I feel like he doesn’t see me at all. I don’t know how to make it clear that things like public displays of affection can’t happen. We’re not in a relationship and, therefore, can’t do relationship things.

I don’t hear Gunner come out of the locker room. “You okay?”

His words startle me, and I jump. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I attempt a smile. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks.” He eyes my jersey and then returns his gaze back to my face, looking like he wants to comment, but he doesn’t.

He nods and heads toward the ice.

Mom joins me. “I think I’m going to hang out by the ice today,” she says, and I take notice of the winter coat that covers her from her neck down to her ankles. “A couple of the guys are pushing it with some muscle tears. I want to keep a closer eye on them.”

“Okay.”

She reaches for my arm and squeezes. “You okay?”

“Never better.” I force a smile. “I’ll be in my seat by Beckett’s family if you need me.” I eye her belly. “Still nothing?”

She rubs her gloved hand against her belly. “Nope. I think the baby is too comfortable to make his or her entrance. Works for me. It’s not a good day for all that anyway.”

“Okay.” I suppress a laugh. “But if the little cherub does decide to join us, let me know, and I’ll get you to the hospital. I don’t think the baby is aware of daddy’s hockey schedule.”

She grins contentedly. “I’m not quite so sure about that.”

I shake my head. “Well, have fun, and seriously… if contractions start, we’re leaving.”

“Would you just go sit down?” She chuckles. “I got this.”

I take my seat beside Iris and watch as the guys warm up, secretly hoping that Bash will look this way so I can give him a wave. I don’t like the way our interaction ended. I may not want a relationship, but I don’t want to hurt him either.

The game starts, and it’s close. As soon as the Cranes get a point, Vancouver sweeps in for a point, tying them up. Not that there are many points. I’ve realized that hockey isn’t like other sports where the points rack up quickly. We’re now in the third period, and it’s still one-one.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Iris states, chewing on her lip. “I know I shouldn’t be saying that out loud, but don’t the guys look off tonight?”

“I don’t know enough about hockey to know if they do.”

Iris throws her hand out. “Look at that. Bash totally messed up that pass. That’s not like him.”

She goes on to point out some of the other mistakes the players have made, but I zone out, focusing on her comment about Bash.

With a minute left on the clock, Vancouver scores a point. Iris groans, holding her face in her hands. “Well, I guess we go on to game six. It’s okay. We’ll get it back next game. It would’ve been nice to win at home, though. Will you be coming to Vancouver?”

“No, I have to work.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

The game ends with a depressing loss, and the guys file off the ice to the locker room. There’s still no look from Bash. It’s crazy to think that our interaction before the game might have affected his play, resulting in this loss. He’s a professional, and I’m certain he’s been separating emotions from the game for years. But I still feel guilty. I have to remind myself that Iris stated they all seemed off tonight. It wasn’t just Bash.

Still, remorse weighs on my heart. I don’t like the way we left things, but I have nothing to offer that would make it better. So I text my mom that I’ll wait for her in the car. She’ll be a while, as she has post-game follow-ups with the guys. But I don’t want to be in here anymore. As big as this arena is, it feels incredibly suffocating.