SlapShot Sweetheart (Pucks and Promises #2)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

THEO

“ Mon frere… you are well and truly screwed,” Lafreniere chuckled, walking into the locker room where they were all sitting around talking and getting ready. “Guess who that was?”

“Your mother?” Thierry joked, causing several of the guys to chuckle at the joke.

“No, that was my sister.”

“Big deal…”

“Did she finally divorce that nitwit, and she’s looking for a real man now?”

“No – and you are never dating any of my sisters, Boucher.”

“So who cares if she called then?”

“So, apparently, Loverboy over here…” Theo looked up at the goalie’s words and felt his whole world turn sideways, instantly making him nauseous. “Loverboy got busted calling a certain redhead his soulmate… and got caught lying to her.”

“Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit?” Theo yelped in a panic.

“Don’t act shocked. You heard me, Batiste,” Lafreniere grinned. “Your girlfriend showed up at my sister’s bakery, started asking what a few French words meant, and then began asking other questions – questions about a person’s car with a certain vanity plate. You are so screwed.”

“No…”

“We shoulda used your Jeep.”

“No, no, no… she’s not mad.”

“I do believe the word ‘Liar’ came flying out of her mouth,” Lafreniere chuckled as Theo fell off the back of the bench onto the floor, horrified. He stared at the other man, remaining where he was, as he looked through his ankles and noticed the world was visibly dimming along the edges of his vision.

“She thinks I’m… a liar?”

“Why would she think you are a liar?”

“Oh my gosh,” Theo whispered aloud as everything came crashing down around his head. She’d asked him point blank at the house if he was the person leaving notes on the door, and he’d said ‘no’… but obviously, she’d already suspected it was him, or she wouldn’t have spoken with Madeline to verify her thoughts.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again – screwed.”

“Stop that,” he balked, tasting something sour in his mouth as he accepted Thierry’s hand and rose from the floor. He looked at the blond man’s grim expression and then slowly slid his eyes to Giroux’s, Boucher, Coeur, and then Lafreniere’s amused one as the man gave him two thumbs up.

“Way to go, Romeo.”

“You need to explain,” Coeur said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Women have long memories.”

“And short tempers,” Thierry added as Giroux nodded slowly, his gaze looking almost as concerned as Theo felt.

“Is she coming to the game?” Giroux asked. “I can ask Becca to talk to her, but she might say ‘no.’ She doesn’t like to get in the middle of stuff and…” his words faded at the abrupt movement nearby.

There was a massive POP that reverberated in the room as the door was slammed open, hitting the lockers and the wall. The six men jumped at the sound, drawing all of their attention… as Theo felt his heart plummet.

“Uh, hello?” Boucher retorted, waving his hands pointedly at his bare torso because he was only wearing pants and socks.

“My bits!” Lafreniére snapped, pulling another towel from beside him on the bench onto his already covered lap. The man was late getting ready because of the phone call from his sister.

“Miss! You can’t just go in there!”

“Hey! We’re changing in here!” Giroux snapped, yanking a shirt over his head while Coeur just stood there in his towel, unfazed, with a smirk on his face.

Aimee’s bright blue eyes met his, and he could feel the intensity of her gaze as she glared at him angrily.

“ You lied to me, ” she hissed in a hushed voice.

“You asked me if I was driving an orange SUV. I didn’t lie.”

“Dude…” Thierry chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t driving – Giroux was.”

“Busted…”

“Tais toi,” Theo snapped at Lafreniére, who was shaking his head.

“Which one of you is the singer?” Aimee asked angrily as she stared at Theo, before glancing sideways to see Thierry’s hand slowly go up for a moment, before Giroux jerked it back down, shaking his head. It was too late, though. Aimee saw the confession and squinted her eyes at him knowingly. Theo didn’t dare look away at that moment.

“Who’s the poet?” she snapped, and Theo felt his face flushing as every set of eyes in the room turned to him in surprise.

“Dude, you wrote her love poems?”

“You’re that mushy?”

“You can write?”

“Oh, mon Dieu…” Theo muttered, closing his eyes in defeat and humiliation as his pride was flayed openly before his friends. “I wrote the poems, Aimee. I brought the kittens to you because I thought you would like them. I asked for ‘elp because I knew you would recognize my voice. I couldn’t move all the flowers easily, so I asked for ‘elp then too.”

“Why did you let me go on believing it wasn’t you?”

“Can we talk later?” he began nervously, looking at her. “We should talk about this alone and with calm ‘eads. We both can get riled up, Aimee. I’m feeling defensive, and that isn’t going to ‘elp things. You are upset. Let’s not say something we’ll both regret.”

“Dude’s got an ugly mug, that’s for sure…”

“I’m much prettier…”

“Too many pucks to the face…”

“HUSH,” Aimee snarled protectively, not looking away from Theo as she put her finger up in warning. “You… we’re going to talk after the game, and you had better be ready to spill the beans.”

“I already told…”

“No!” she began again, interrupting him – and he paused. Her finger was trembling as her eyes flashed, glossy with unshed tears that were breaking his heart.

“Mes amis , can you give us the room?” he whispered painfully.

“I’m half naked.”

“I am naked except for a towel…”

“You’re a hoe-bro, and it’s never stopped you before.”

“I don’t want to talk now,” Aimee continued, ignoring his friends and teammates as she looked at him plainly. “I need to think. You have a game to play, and I need to mentally group for this next mental battle.”

“It doesn’t have to be a battle between us.”

“You’re right,” she whispered, putting her finger down and turning away to leave the room before looking over her shoulder at him. “It’s a war, and one of us is on the verge of losing.”

As she walked off, Theo stood there in shock.

“You should go talk to her.”

“Don’t let her stay angry like that.”

“I’d give her some space.”

“You should have told her how you felt…”

“Dude, you are in a real mess…”

Theo looked at their concerned faces and swallowed, feeling completely sick to his stomach. He was torn between chasing Aimee and giving her enough time to cool down if she was that angry at him. He wasn’t even upset that she was mad, but it was the hurt in her gaze that gutted him. He felt like he was less in her eyes, that something precious and valuable was gone… and he wanted it back. Obviously, tardiness wasn’t the only trigger for his girl. How could he explain how scared he was to lose her?

Starting out the door after her, Theo literally ran into the coach and bounced off the man’s beer belly.

“Going somewhere?”

“No, sir.”

“Darn straight, Batiste. Boys, gather ‘round and let’s talk. We’ve got to slam this one into the net because I just found out that ESPN is out there doing an article…”

The rest of the man’s words were a blur as he stared at the closed door separating him and Aimee.

A s they paraded down the walkway to the ice, Theo’s heart hurt so badly. Aimee wasn’t waiting to give him a good luck kiss on the cheek again. She was already in her seat, her head bent toward Becca’s. He could only pray and hope that she was calming down enough to listen to him, to listen to his reasons why he continued with the charade, avoiding her questions.

Making his way to the ice, he heard their names over the loudspeakers as the lights dimmed and the can lights began swinging, sending beams across the ice as the fog machines did their job. It was a show, an event, and every game was designed the same way. Loud music and flashy lights bring everything up to a crescendo… and then they entered the ice.

The crowd loved it and enjoyed the hysteria that seemed to come with taking the high road during the games. This was something Giroux had brought about a few years ago after his accident. He came back to the team a changed man, influencing all of them. No more cussing, no more hanging out at bars, no more puck bunnies hanging around all the time – and to tell the truth?

Theo didn’t miss it.

In fact, his world seemed more peaceful without the stress of trying to figure out how to extract himself from situations he would rather not be involved with. He didn’t have to worry about staggering around drunk in front of the paparazzi if he wasn’t in a bar at two in the morning. He never had to make the walk of shame or try to remember what some woman’s name was if she wasn’t there to begin with. No more paternity tests for Coeur, no more angry boyfriends after Boucher, no more death threats for Lafrenière. Life was so much simpler – until now.

His eyes traveled across the crowd and met Aimee’s. He wasn’t sure if she could see his face behind the mask with all the lights flashing, but he could see hers, and she wasn’t smiling. Her lips were pressed together firmly, and she had a line between her eyebrows, indicating that she was still frowning or looked concerned… but his breath caught as she raised her pom- pom and shook it. Was she giving him a symbol that she had his back in the game and was there for the time being?

He gave her a nervous smile and raised his hockey stick just before stepping onto the ice. Going through the motions, he did the whole ‘dog-and-pony-show’ smiling and taking photographs for the crowds, but his heart certainly wasn’t in it. His entire being was focused on his fiery redhead, whose eyes were boring holes in his back.

Lining up, he glanced to his right, looking for Aimee, and heard the other players talking trash… but didn’t care.

“Eh, Batiste… you lookin’ for a few more inches so you can take me?”

“He’s not listening…”

“I know you hear me, Batiste…”

“’Ow can I not,” he muttered. “You sound like a donkey…”

“WHAT’D YOU SAY!”

“Mon dieu…” Theo mumbled in frustration, craning his neck to look for Aimee again – only to feel Coeur tap him on the helmet with his stick.

“Pucks go on the ice, mon frere.”

“I know that!”

“Brony is talking smack…” Thierry reminded him as he stood up, looking to the right again – only to see the coach’s outraged expression as he pointed and signaled at him.

“My name is Bronson , you moron!”

“Oh really? You look like a brony to me, in fact, I bet your drag queen name on Friday nights is Twilight Sparkles, or are you more of a Rainbow Stash ?”

“WHY YOU LITTLE…”

“Little? Little? I’m taller than you, Ponyboy!”

“Huh, it’s not Batiste this time?”

“Sheesh…”

“Here we go…”

“Batiste, we’re rumblin’ – you ready?”

“Eh?” Theo said distractedly, looking at Giroux’s expressive face as he angled his head toward Thierry who was getting in Bronson’s face. Theo stood up straight and pointed at the strange scene before him, utterly shocked. Usually, he was the one talking trash and diving into the fray first. “‘E picked a fight?”

“You were busy,” Giroux grinned.

“Je suis surpris!”

“I think Bronson is surprised, too.”

“Eh bien, allons-y,” Theo reared back, shucking off his gloves onto the ice with wild abandon as one of the players swung at his head, and he ducked, only to charge back up, using the blade of his skate to push off into the thick of it. He felt someone land a few hits before he was pulled back from the fray.

“Batiste!” the referee yelled – pointing at the penalty box.

Fine, whatever. It would put him closer to Aimee. Skating toward it, he gave the other team a childish face, sticking out his tongue before grinning like a crazy man. Yup, ten minutes closer to Aimee sounded like heaven.

Skidding to a stop, he stepped into the penalty box and immediately turned to see her rising to her feet, her hand over her heart. He hadn’t put his gloves back on yet, so he took his hand and pressed it against the plexiglass separating them. To his surprise, she moved out of the row, moving toward him.

She wasn’t but maybe ten feet from him, but the fact that she was headed in his direction meant everything at that moment… and his heart thudded wildly in his chest as she raised her hand to touch his through the clear barrier between them.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply and watched her lips move barely making out her voice because of the speakers nearby. He frowned and pointed, only to see her crack a small smile as she also nodded.

Sign language.

He pointed at his eye, holding her gaze as he moved slowly, needing to tell her something. Pointing at his knee and then at her, he put his hand back onto the glass before putting his forehead against it… only to feel a sharp ‘thwap’ that caught his attention. He jerked back, looking at her, startled, and saw her smirk as she shook her head, obviously laughing, before she pointed at her eye, her knee, and then him.

She needed him, too?

He grinned widely – and pressed his lips to the plexiglass before hearing the crowd around them cheering. He cracked open a single eye, looking at her shy expression as she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Yeah, she was still upset with him but slowly warming up to him once more. She leaned forward and kissed the plexiglass over his lips and heard the cheer turn into a loud roar only to notice people pointing upward – and laughed.

They were on the monitors! Their first kiss was separated by plexiglass and on television – and if that wasn’t romantic enough?

Theo suddenly felt inspired.

He leaped up onto the bench in the penalty box, throwing his fists in the air to incite everyone to cheer them on once more as he craned his neck over the plexiglass guard, hoping to sneak another kiss. To his surprise, Aimee shook her head nervously and instead blew him a kiss.

Fine.

If she wouldn’t come up here – he’d come to her!

Throwing caution to the wind, Theo looked around wildly, seeing the team at the other end of the rink. He shoved the penalty box door open and knew his coach was going to have a hissy fit and a half. Sure enough, he already heard the man screaming obnoxiously as Theo skated to the wall in front of Aimee.

“What are you doing?” she said in disbelief.

“I ‘ate you being mad at me,” he replied quickly – and then reached over the railing, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her jeans and pulling her toward him. Her blue eyes grew in shock and awareness as he hooked a foot up along the wall, giving him at least another inch or two as he leaned forward precariously, dropping a quick peck on her stunned lips.

Sure enough, several hands clamped on his shoulders, drawing him back as the referees ordered him back into the penalty box. That was barely a kiss, but it obviously had an effect on her. She stood there, her pretty lips in the shape of an ‘O’ as her fingers covered her mouth, gawking at him.

“A kiss for luck, mon ame soeur !” he hollered, grinning.

“I know what that means…” she volunteered, recovering from the impromptu kiss that had the crowd roaring in approval.

“Good,” he replied. “You’re learning French…”

“I might be.”

“It’s a beautiful language.”

And he saw her beautiful smile start to creep out as she stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head. Theo pointed at his ear and shook his head, unable to hear anything at all anymore, especially with the coach chirping at him incessantly. He might get in trouble for that stunt, but it would be worth it in the long run. Looking over his shoulder at Aimee, he raised a hand and smiled once more, finally able to focus on the game.