We fill our cups and while Garrett and Lizzie flirt and bat their eyes, conversation filled with innuendo of what will happen later, I scan the kitchen and living room, unable to help myself.
Jude is still wrapped in conversation with his brothers and the girls draped across them, one of them now looks like they’re standing on her toes, her lips at his ear, and that look on his face? It’s the exact same panty-melting look Garrett gave Lizzie.
Except Jude still hasn’t seen me. So it’s all for someone else. And that’s when I realize I’m done.
With his flirting and his attention.
I don’t need to make a fool of myself for someone who’s all but admitted he’s leaving anyway. Being surrounded by a hockey player who will jump at any girl’s flagrant attention isn’t something I’m interested in.
I drain my cup and turn to Lizzie.
“I’m out of here,” I say and drop my cup in the already overflowing garbage can near the keg. “Have a good night. Will I see you later?”
“You’re leaving? Already?” She does a quick scan of the room like I’ve done and her face falls. Lips twisting into a grimace. “Oh. Okay.”
I don’t check what she’s witnessed, but it’s written all over her face that her hopes for the two of us to snag some hockey guys and double-date and be besties for life have been crushed. She knows what I will and will not tolerate.
Am I being harsh? Possibly. He’s made me no promises, just hints that he wants me. I haven’t exactly been receptive, but this is exactly why.
When I find a man who I’ll give my heart to it will be to someone I can fully trust with it, one who will take care of it and not have me be one of his many women.
I’ve seen enough of that in my life. I’m worth more.
“Bye.” I kiss her cheek and wave to Garrett. Then I push and weave my way through the house with the goal of reaching the front door without having to veer near where Jude is.
I’m blasted with the frigid cold air and a whip of bone-chilling wind, free from the crush of bodies and headache-inducing music when a hand wraps around my arm.
“Hey. You’re leaving? I didn’t even know you were here.”
It’s Jude.
He sounds confused.
It takes all I have in me to turn and look at him. First, I make sure to school the disappointment bubbling inside of me.
Why would he even make the effort to get that puck to me if I don’t mean anything to him?
It’s a weight in the pocket of my coat, and I wish I never would have gone to the game.
For a brief moment at the hockey game, I’d believed we might actually be able to have something while we’re here. But this stupid jealousy isn’t worth it. It appears I’ve already started handing him pieces of my heart and I’d very much like to leave with the rest intact. How much more would I give him if I became involved with him any more than I already have?
“Yeah.” I tug my coat tighter and fumble with the zipper. “I decided I didn’t want to be here.”
“Why not? Come back in, I want you to meet my brothers.”
“I saw them already. And you.” I can’t hide the flash of pain across my face, and Jude is smart enough to see it. To understand.
“Katie. They’re just friends. I’ve known them practically my whole life. They go to Purdue and when they heard Jason and Joey were going to be here they drove up.”
“It’s Kate,” I snap, harsher than normal. “And I could see. You were awfully friendly.”
He takes a minute. Then two. His head tilts to the side and his thick brows furrow. It’s a bummer he looks so sexy when he thinks. “Are you jealous?”
Am I? Possibly. But that’s not the prevalent emotion. “No. Disappointed.”
In myself for thinking he was someone different and for finally wanting to take a chance.
I step back as his eyes widen and I’m down the steps. “‘Night Jude. Good game earlier.”
At the last second, he calls my name again, but I already have the puck in my hands. I toss it into the air, high enough he has to jump for it, which gives me more time to turn and skedaddle.
He calls my name again, and it’s with such force, I stop and glance back.
“I’m not the guy you think I am, you know. But you want to believe the worst in me, go for it. I’ll prove you wrong.”
“Find a new challenge, Jude Taylor. I’m not a game for you to win.”
Chapter Eight
Top Forty pop music hums through the speakers of the physical therapy room in the athletic building. I’m currently singing along, stocking shelves and double-checking inventory. The weeks after Christmas and before school session resumes in January are a busy time of year for the winter athletes.
Football season might be almost over, but basketball and hockey are just hitting their strides with months to go. It’s only two days after Christmas, a holiday I spent alone with a phone call to my mother who had spotty reception due to her travels along the Oregon Coast. Lizzie is with her family in Oak Park and while I usually take her up on the invitation to stay with her for a few days, this year I chose the quiet and solitude of my apartment and a PostMates delivered ham sandwich for my holiday meal.
The football players will arrive in a few hours to begin their final practices before taking off to a bowl game on January first. Basketball and hockey players, wrestlers and gymnasts and swimmers will do the same in preparation for their seasons to resume. Workouts for everyone over break are intense, some teams having two-a-day practices along with additional strength training. Which means for the physical therapy students who work and intern in the training facility, it’s a busy couple weeks of helping ice and heat muscles, preparing ice baths, and rehabbing the minor pulled muscles and strains from the athletes who partied too hard during their break and returned dehydrated and unprepared for the work ahead of them.
In between stacking gauze and bandages and counting supplies, I’ve had the added task of kicking Jude from my memory banks. It’s been an endeavor I’m failing at, and I still haven’t been able to forget his parting words to me.
I’m not the guy you think I am, and I’m going to prove it to you.
That’s all I need. Jude Taylor doubling down on convincing me he’s worth the risk is a feat I don’t think I’ll survive. I still hate myself for being so rude to him. I could have ignored the girls hanging all over him. I could have asked what was going on. I should have given him the benefit of the doubt. I don’t think all guys are jerks, and the memory he shared with me of his sister-in-law solidifies that I believe he’s a decent man.
No, I firmly believe Jude Taylor is a good guy.
He’s also risky, and I’m not a gambler. Unfortunately, every time I try to kick him out of my mind, my heart pulls him back in, squeezing painfully at the thought of not getting more time with him.
What can be the harm? We’ll both be headed in opposite directions in a few months. It’s possible I can protect my heart from him at the same time we enjoy the time we have. I’m strong enough for that. It’s the internal debate I’m having when I shove a box around a metal door to restock ankle and wrist braces when my foot trips over a rolled bandage that’s fallen out. The door smacks me in my face and I drop to the floor, one hand pressed to my forehead.