Ian has never said goodbye. Even when he left for training camp, he always came back to visit. He never deserted me or forgot me. He made me feel cared for, important, special…
How could I have even thought about putting that at risk?
Even if he was interested in being more than friends, a few months of hot sex—or however long I managed to hold his much-more-experienced interest—wouldn’t be worth the long-term fallout.
I can’t lose Ian. I just can’t.
Just thinking about it makes me want to run home, wipe off all this makeup, change back into my grungy, oversized clothes and forget I ever pretended to be a grown-up. I’m not a grown-up, not like these men are, and I might never be. It’s just too damned scary. Better to remain in that murky, not-quite-whole place I’ve inhabited since I left my father’s house and never have to face the demons of my past or the challenges of a fully fleshed-out future.
I’ll be the spinster aunt who brings my friends’ kids presents and sleeps with her dog every night. And I’ll probably end up happier than all those people out there fighting to keep love alive in a world that seems determined to make human connection as hard as possible.
On the outside, I’m still standing in this circle of men, but on the inside, I’m running back to my safe place as fast as my feet can carry me.
So, when Kyle says in a rough voice, “I don’t think I can do this, Evie. I’m sorry. I just can’t. Not today,” I nod and say, “That’s okay, Kyle. I understand.”
Because I do.
Boy, do I.
I force a smile, ignoring how fake and stiff it feels on my face as I say, “But I think everyone deserves two donuts. This was some great work, guys. Truly. I’m so proud of all of you.”
“But you’re proudest of me, right, Sheepish?” Sven grins as he turns up the collar on his track jacket. “Because I’m being such a cuddly team player today and all.”
“I wouldn’t cuddle you if you paid me ten thousand dollars,” Laser says, punching Sven good-naturedly on the arm as he starts back inside. “Last one to the donuts has to eat the peanut butter ones.”
“I like the peanut butter ones,” Pete says. “Save those for me, dog. I’ll eat the shit out of those.”
One by one, the team steps away from the fire, until only Ian and I are left.
For the first time since his turn at the pit, his blue-gray eyes settle on my face, a question there I’m not sure how to answer.
But I do my best to fake it, “It’s okay,” I say, my voice husky. “And I’m okay. Like Sven said. But thank you. You’ve always been a good friend to me.”
“I’m not sure about that,” he says softly. “But I’d like to be, moving forward. You’re a really special person, Evie. One of the best people I know.”
I swallow hard. “Thanks. You, too. Want to go eat donuts? I could use one. Or four.”
“Yeah. I do.” He grins, that smile that makes my skin feel hot all over, opening a whole new can of worms as we follow the others inside.
Deciding that being friends with Ian is my best and only choice is all well and good. But what if my body refuses to get on board with that decision? What if it insists on blushing and tingling and wanting things it can never have?
I don’t know.
But I’m pretty sure donuts will make things better.
At least for a little while.
Chapter 12
Ian
After class, Evie bolts out of the art room so fast I don’t get a chance to ask her if I should bring anything other than myself when I swing by her place later, so I text Cameron—I know you’re cooking dinner, but I’d love to contribute. Can I bring salad or a vegetable tray or something? Maybe some wine?
A moment later, Cam texts back—Yeah, a bottle of white would be great, but I have everything else covered. I’m making shrimp orzo with summer veggies. Tons of it, so bring a hearty appetite.
Sounds great, thanks—I reply, ignoring the anxiety pricking at the back of my neck as I head home to grab my supplies for our first meeting.
Evie and I talked after the firepit, and she said everything was fine. But I don’t feel fine for some reason.
I feel…confused.
When Evie and I were standing there by the fire, just the two of us, things felt different between us, and not just because she was dressed up and wearing makeup. And not even because I found myself aware of her beauty in a way I’ve never been before.
It was more than that, but I can’t quite put my finger on it, and when I arrive at her place at seven, as planned, Evie answers the door still damp from the shower and wearing her usual overalls over a paint-splattered, long-sleeved white thermal.
She looks like the old Evie, and for a moment I think that’s going to be it—the end of the weirdness.
But when she smiles and motions me inside, my stomach does that same clenching, flipping thing it did earlier today. “Come on in,” she says. “Food’s almost ready and I’m dying for a glass of that.” She points to the wine in my hand, and I pass it over, doing my best to ignore the fizzing feeling that shoots up my arm as our fingers touch.
“Yeah?” I clear my throat when the word comes out low and rough. “Hard day at the salt mines?”
“You’d better believe it,” she says. “Spent the entire afternoon with a bunch of stinky hockey boys. Had to come straight home and shower the smell off.”
“Yeah, about that.” I touch her elbow, triggering another squeezing sensation in my chest. “I’m sorry if I overstepped and made you uncomfortable in front of the team. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even mean to draw your dad, it just happened.”
She glances down at my fingers, still wrapped around her elbow, and pulls in a deep breath before lifting her gaze to mine. “You didn’t overstep. But you did make me think. Honestly, I’m still thinking.”
I frown. “About?”
“About my dad. About our relationship and what it was like to grow up in his house. About whether I’m as well-adjusted and ‘normal’ as I’ve always thought.” A tight laugh escapes her lips. “I’m starting to think I’m actually kind of a hot mess.”
“Nah, it’s just been a rough few days. Starting a new job is always hard and the guys didn’t make it easy for you. Though they were better today.” I tilt my head, catching her eye before I add, “Seems like you’re starting to get through to them.”
Her lips twitch but a smile doesn’t form. “I hope so. And I hope our sessions help. They’re sweet guys, once you get past their outer grouchy and suspicious layers.”
I arch a brow. “Sweet isn’t the word I’d use, but I hope so, too. Maybe then I won’t have to think about transferring at the end of the season.”
Her eyes widen. “Wow. Really? You’re thinking about leaving the Possums? Where would you go?”
“Portland, Oregon, most likely,” I say, with an uncomfortable shrug. “But don’t say anything to Derrick or anyone else, okay? I haven’t mentioned it to anyone yet. I’m still mulling things over. I just know I can’t stay here if things don’t change. I’m tired of being the ‘bad boys’ of the NHL. I just want to play the game without all the in-fighting and drama.”