“Guy can’t touch me,” I reiterate to my teammates.
I’m floating on air.
Muffy’s coming to the game tonight. She politely declined the party suite with my family since a bunch of her clients wanted to come, so they’re sitting together in the nosebleed section.
It sucks that I won’t see her in the front row like I did when she’d come with Kami, but knowing she’s there is all that matters.
Plus, when I offered to get her tickets for all of her clients, she literally grabbed me by the balls and made me promise they’d be nosebleed tickets, or else.
I got the impression withholding sex was the very least that she’d do. She doesn’t like feeling like she owes people, and I don’t want to come home to her scrubbing my toilets in an effort to pay me back.
And I’m not one to deny the fun of the nosebleed section anyway. That’s where I saw my first hockey games.
The game isn’t about the seats. It’s about the experience.
Lavoie sprints ahead to take his turn at shooting at Klein, who’s starting tonight.
Murphy’s not making noise about retiring, but he’s also up there in goalie years, and the brass want to develop Connor more so we’re not stuck in a bind if Murphy ever leaves.
We know it’s coming, even if he doesn’t. And maybe it’ll take two or three years, but it is coming.
He’s different with the wife and kid.
Looks good on him.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel sorry for him being shackled in a marriage.
Might actually want what he has.
I hit the front of the line and take off to try to score on Klein, send the puck right in the five hole, and circle the net with a fist pump. “Next time,” I call to my buddy.
He ignores me, because Frey’s already barreling toward him from the other side.
Frey’s another one with a family. Calls Gracie his wife, though if they’ve made it official, I didn’t get an invite. She’s not keen on being a princess, and Frey loves his dad and his brothers and his country, but he could care less about the whole royal-prince stuff too.
Dude has the luxury of not caring though. He’s pretty far down the line of succession.
I’d give up a country for Muffy.
Fuck, I’d give up hockey for Muffy.
And that realization has me freezing hardcore as Rooster circles to join me back in line.
He grins. “Look like you got hit upside the head with the cooter stick.”
“The what?”
“Cooter stick. You done gone and fell in loooove, but you don’t know if it looks like love because you’re in love with getting it up again, or if you’re getting it up again because she’s got the one cooter your dick can’t live without.”
Lavoie snorts in front of us. “Leave him alone, Applebutter. At least until after the game, yeah?”
Rooster doesn’t bat a lash at his new nickname. “Not a chance, Cap’n Dunk-hat. Not if it gives him something to live for.” He smacks me in the ass with his stick. “Good on you, Jaeggy. Play your heart out for her. Better’n playin’ your heart out for yourself. Or for your dick. Gives a man more to live for.”
“You ever been in love?” I ask him.
He grins. “Every single fucking night.”
Yep. Completely the dude we all love to hate.
“You tell her yet?” Lavoie asks me.
No, I haven’t told her.
This is our honeymoon period. What if it’s lust and not love? What if I say I love her and it scares her away?
This is Muffy. She acts like she doesn’t give two shits what anyone thinks of her, and she talks the talk when it comes to her clients loving themselves first, but she doesn’t apply it very well to herself.
“You’ve been flirting for a year, you passed out at a funeral for her, she’s living with you, she’s all you talk about, she’s hanging out with your family, and you haven’t told her you love her?” Lavoie’s practicing puck control while we move up in line, his stick patting the puck back and forth, but all of his attention’s on me. “You don’t think she’s serious?”
“We hooked up because neither of us wanted anything serious.”
“Jaeger. You’re in something serious.”
“I know, but I don’t know if she knows. And what if this is just the honeymoon period? What if this all wears off next week?”
“Gotta man up and talk to her, Jaegs,” Rooster says. He’s spinning in a circle like he’s thinking of trying out for the Ice Capades if this hockey thing doesn’t work out, except he’s trying to balance his stick on his chin. “Otherwise, six months down the road, she’s gonna dump your ass because she’s realized it’s been six months and that smells like a relationship. I’ve smelled your socks. Don’t get more attached if she can’t handle it.”
“Or we get six months down the road, she realizes I’m everything she’s ever wanted, and all my patience has paid off.” When my balls don’t shrivel, I know I’m kidding myself in thinking this is a passing phase and that I’ll get tired of it.
What I don’t know, though, is if she’s as serious as I am.
And that was the one thing that didn’t work out for me the two times I tried it before.
Two.
I’m a wuss when it comes to relationships. Scared of commitment because of two things that happened before I was old enough to drink, hiding behind not wanting to live with my sisters for the rest of my life, when the truth is, I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone as fun, bright, amusing, and unexpected as they are.
Lavoie’s shaking his head. “Tell her.”
“And what if she bolts?”
“What if she’s waiting for you to say it first and she’s afraid you’ll bolt?” He grunts. “You’ve met her mother. I’ve met her mother. If ever there was a woman who’d have issues, it’s Muffy.”
I’d slug him on her behalf, but I know he’s not saying it to be an asshole.
He’s saying it because it’s true.
“Tonight,” I say. “I’ll tell her tonight. After we kick Indianapolis’s asses, and Gator Cranford crawls out of here with his tail tucked between his legs.”
Rooster punches me in the arm. “That’s the spirit. Go get her, tiger.”
I don’t want to get her.
I want to love her.
39
Muffy
I. Freaking. Love. Tyler’s. Family.
We’ve hardly seen him all day, which is pretty normal on a game day. He has morning skate, team lunch, nap, then it’s time for him to suit up and swagger back to the arena.
I couldn’t join anyone until after my weekly client support meeting, where I have three clients now dating men I introduced them to, and two more unofficial members of my client roster that I’ve matched in my head as soon as they give me the go-ahead and sign on. Maren is still single, but I introduced her to my therapist this week, and she texted to tell me that after her first session, she’s pretty sure this will be more useful than dating.
And now I’ve been to the zoo with Tyler’s family, and we’re all gathered in Daisy and West’s hotel suite for dinner before the game, where Daisy’s private chef is glowering at everyone while he stands guard at the roast beef station in the corner.