Blind Pass (Carolina Comets)

After lunch, we all went our separate ways. I didn’t even argue with Ryan when she said she was heading to her own room. We should probably spend some time getting to know one another, but I needed a break.

I needed a break because sometime during lunch I realized it felt a little too comfortable to be sitting next to Ryan. That realization came when I noticed I held her hand far longer than I needed to.

It felt…good. Easy.

Almost…right.

And that made me want to hurl my lunch back up, so I hid in my room like a total wuss.

I sacked up and finally gave my general manager and coach a call to set up plans for a meeting first thing tomorrow morning so we can go over a press release. To say they were surprised by my sudden nuptials would be an understatement.

That’s one of the not-so-fun things about being a professional hockey player. Everybody is all up in your business all the time, and there’s a press release for everything.

Some days I really question my decision to shoot for pro hockey, but then I step out on the ice, and all the other bullshit I have to deal with fades away.

Hockey is my life. I live it, love it, and breathe it. All this other bullshit is worth it for those twenty minutes of ice time eighty-two nights a year.

Now I’m smashed between Lowell and Miller in the back seat of an Uber. Ryan and Harper are sitting in the seat in front of us, and Collin is in front, talking with the driver.

Lowell taps his legs against mine. He moves his eyes between Ryan and me.

“You good?”

I shrug. Am I good? I don’t know.

“Of course he’s good!” Miller says. “Dude just got hitched. Please tell me you’re going to have a party to celebrate since it was so last minute and none of us were invited. Not that I’m going to hold that against you or anything.”

A party? My first reaction is a big Fuck no.

But…a party might not actually be a bad idea. It would give Ryan and me a chance to introduce ourselves to everybody as a couple. Maybe it could help break the ice a little bit too.

“Actually,” I say loud enough for Ryan to hear me, “I think a party would be a good idea. Don’t you think so, darling?”

I swear I hear Ryan roll her eyes at the pet name. I picked up pretty quick that she is not a fan, and if she thinks I’m not going to keep using them just to fuck with her, she’s wrong.

When she turns around, she has a big, fake-as-hell smile pasted on her face. “A party is a great idea, honey.”

My lips twitch at the pet name she tosses back.

“Fuck yes!” Miller shouts. “Party time!”

How he’s excited to party after a weekend in Vegas, I have no idea. I am all partied out. In fact, I could never party again and it would be too soon.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I should probably ignore it, especially since I’m sure it’s just my mom calling again, but I decide to check it anyway because I need the distraction. I can feel Lowell’s gaze burning a hole in the side of my head. I know he wants to talk about everything, but I’m just not up for it right now.

Unknown: A party? Really??

It takes me a minute to catch on to who this could possibly be. Then the sad reality of it hits me—it’s Ryan.

I don’t even have my own wife’s number saved on my phone.

I add it in and text her back.

Me: Trust me, I don’t want to do this either, but I think it could help us. Get used to being seen together.

Me: It’ll be good practice.

Ryan: Please tell me I’m not the only one who finds it incredibly sad that we have to practice being a couple.

It is sad. So very fucking sad.

Me: It’s not just you.

Ryan: When are we having this party?

Me: I guess after you move in. Maybe an end-of-summer party?

Me: But I’m sure as soon as the press release goes out, everyone’s going to be on our asses about it.

Ryan: PRESS RELEASE?! What for?

Ryan: Oh. Never mind. I forgot for a moment that you’re famous.

Me: I’m not famous.

Ryan: Says the guy who randomly gets married in Vegas, then trends on Twitter about it.

Me: You’re not exactly unknown yourself, Ms. 500k Followers.

Ryan: Why do I feel like you’re making fun of me for having a social media presence?

Me: I’m not.

I’m really not making fun of her.

Do I understand it? No. But to be fair, all I do is play a game for a living and get beat up by other grown-ass men.

We both have weird careers when you think about it.

Me: I think what you do is kind of cool.

Me: But your photography is more my style.

Ryan: You’ve seen it?

Me: At Collin’s place. It’s nice.

She’s only sitting a row in front of me, so I see the surprise cross her face. I’m not really sure how I feel about her being shocked that I complimented her.

I meant what I said. Her photography is nice. Actually, it’s more than nice. It’s pretty fucking incredible. The first time I went over to Collin’s place and saw the three-piece set of the bridge we cross every day to go to the rink he has hanging over his fireplace, it took my breath away. Then he told me Ryan did it, and that shocked me even more. From all the shit Collin and Harper went through before, I knew she dabbled, but I didn’t realize how talented she truly is.

I really want to ask her why she doesn’t take it more seriously, but I don’t feel like it’s any of my business. Besides, I’m sure she has her reasons, and she doesn’t owe me any sort of explanation.

Ryan: Thank you.

Me: You’re welcome.

Ryan: Okay, stop being nice. It’s weird.

Me: I take great offense to that.

Me: I’m plenty nice.

She actually laughs out loud at my response, and it pisses me off.

Me: Did you just laugh because I said I’m nice?

Ryan: You’re not nice. You’re grumpy.

Me: I thought I was hot and grumpy.

Ryan: Oh my god, you’re not going to let me live that down, are you?

Me: Not a chance in hell.

Ryan: That’s not very nice, husband.

Me: I thought you said I couldn’t be nice, wife.

Ryan: You can be nice. Just not too nice. It’s weird.

Me: Be nice but not too nice. Got it.

Ryan: You can add “Don’t be annoying” to that list too.

Me: Now where’s the fun in that?

Ryan: Are you finished being obnoxious?

Me: Nope, I’m just getting started.

Ryan: Wonderful.

Me: Just trying to keep your expectations of our marriage realistic, dear.

Ryan: You are just too good to me, sweetums.

That one makes me laugh out loud.

“Oh, gross. Are you two sexting right now?”

Lowell groans next to me, tossing his head back with exasperation. “Fuck’s sake, Miller, shut up.”

Then he mutters something about why the hell we invited the rookie to our weekend away.

He knows why. We wouldn’t be on this celebration trip without him. Annoying as he is, we need Miller.

Luckily, the driver pulls up to the airport before we have to hear any more of Miller’s bullshit.

Getting on our flight is quick and relatively painless. We only get stopped for autographs twice when a few people recognize us as we make our way to our gate.

I’ve grown so accustomed to flying on chartered jets that sometimes I forget what it’s like to walk through an actual airport and be recognized. I don’t typically do much traveling in the offseason. I tend to stay home and hibernate. If I do leave North Carolina, the only place I ever go is back home to upstate New York. Everyone there has known me since I was a little kid, so none of them are impressed by my career.

When I climb on board, I see Miller casually stowing his luggage in the bin directly above Ryan as if he’s about to sit next to her. And because the kid apparently has balls the size of Texas, he does. He plops down like it’s no big deal.

My brows slam together when he begins shuffling through his carry-on, talking a mile a minute because that’s what Miller does. He doesn’t notice that Ryan’s not paying a lick of attention to anything he says.

She’s too busy staring at me, the corners of her mouth tilted up into a smile.

She thinks this is funny.

But I doubt she’ll find it funny when her new husband gets escorted off the plane for killing his teammate.

I step up in the aisle next to Miller and wait for him to realize I’m towering over him. It takes him far longer than I expect. When he does finally look up, his eyes are wide, and he realizes his mistake. It takes him .2 seconds to unclip his seat belt and shove to his feet.

“Uh, shit, my bad, Rhodes. I forgot you two were married for a second.”

His cheeks are flaming red as he scuttles across the aisle to sit next to Lowell, who just shakes his head at him.

I settle into my seat and then turn to Ryan, sending her a big toothy grin. Now she’s the one scowling as she turns away and focuses her attention out the window like she’s loving the view even though we’re still sitting on the tarmac.

The rest of the passengers file onto the plane, and after what feels like forever, we’re finally on the move. The flight attendants begin going through their regular routine. I tune it out, having heard it a million times before.

“Before we take off today, we would like to welcome two very special guests to our flight,” the perky voice says over the intercom.

Now that draws my attention, and warning bells start going off in my head. I glance over at Ryan, and she’s sitting there with wide eyes too.

Oh fuck.

“Please join us in extending a huge congratulations to Ryan Bell and Stanley Cup champion Adrian Rhodes on their marriage. Let’s give them a big round of applause.”

Everyone starts clapping, and I want to die.

I want to just sink into my seat and pull my cap lower over my face when people start turning around to look at us.

Ryan’s hand finds my thigh, and she digs her nails in deep. I look over to find her with another fake smile plastered across her face as she waves at everyone staring at us.

She’s so good at faking that smile it makes me wonder how often she practices.

“Smile,” she mutters out of the corner of her mouth, not once dropping her grin.

“Huh?”

She digs her nails in deeper. “Smile, you idiot. Look happy.”

Happy? The only thing that would make me happy right now is a stiff drink and for the earth to swallow me whole.

But we can’t always get what we want.

So instead, I smile and wave, pretending to be blissfully in love right along with her.

“Why aren’t they turning around?” she asks out of the corner of her mouth.

“No fucking clue, but I hate every second of this,” I say back, my cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so much.

“Dude, kiss her! That’s what they’re waiting for!” Miller says, shoving at my shoulder from across the aisle.

A few loud whoops go around, and I realize that is what they’re waiting for.

Because I don’t think I can possibly take another second of everyone staring at me, I slide my palm up Ryan’s face and drag her closer to me.

There’s no mistaking the angry fire blazing in her eyes.

“Rhodes…” she warns quietly just before our lips touch.

I ignore the warning and press my lips to hers.

She inhales sharply when our mouths connect.

But, to my surprise, she doesn’t pull away.

She kisses me back.

As drunk as I was, I remember our kiss at the altar. How soft and pliable her lips were. How sweet she tasted, even though the woman is full of fire.

But that drunken kiss? That drunken kiss was nothing compared to this.

Her lips are just as soft, and the taste of her is still sweet. But this time something feels different.

We feel different.

Her fingernails dig into my thigh again, but this time for an entirely different reason as she hums with pleasure. I slide my hand into her hair, pulling her closer, slanting my mouth over hers just so.

Just as I’m about to deepen the kiss, she pulls away without warning, stealing my breath as she goes.

She sucks in sharp breaths, eyes wide as she stares at me with surprise.

She doesn’t have to tell me she felt it too. It’s clear by the look on her face that she did. The plane erupts around us again, everyone enjoying the show.

Like the good actress that she is, she smiles and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, blushing and hiding her face from the attention.

Finally, everyone goes back to minding their own business, turning around in their seats and ignoring us as they should have from the get-go.

But there’s one stare I can’t ignore.

I glance up and meet Collin’s eyes. The look he’s giving me…I don’t know what it means, but I do know I don’t like it.

Ignoring him, I turn my attention back forward, grabbing the magazine out of the back pocket of the seat in front of me and flipping mindlessly through the pages.

I have no idea how many minutes pass until Ryan speaks.

“What the hell was that?” she hisses quietly.

I turn to find her staring daggers at me.

“A kiss.”

“I thought we said no kissing.”

“No. We said no PDA and no sex. I know I’m a good kisser, but I didn’t realize I was so good you mistook a kiss for sex.”

If possible, her eyes narrow even more. “From here on out, no kissing.”

“Afraid you might like it and want more?”

“No, I’m afraid I might vomit on you, and that won’t look very good for us, now will it?”

I lean into her until my lips graze the shell of her ear. “Based on the way your nipples are poking through your shirt right now, I highly doubt that’s something I need to be concerned with.”

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch or try to cover up when I call her out on it.

She gives me a saccharine smile. “Kiss me again and I’ll knee you in the nuts.”

I won’t lie, said nuts retract into my body just a little bit at the threat of harm.

“We’re going to be together for a year, Ryan. We can’t just not kiss. We’re married. Married people kiss.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “I really wish you’d quit reminding me of that.” She lets out a resigned sigh. “You’re allowed a max of one kiss a week, but only if we’re in a situation where it’s warranted.”

I lift a brow. “Just one? Please. I give it a week and you’ll be begging me for more than that.”

“In your dreams, Rhodes.”

She pulls the hood of her jacket up over her head and leans against the window, burrowing into her seat as far away from me as possible and closing her eyes.

Of course she’s a plane sleeper. I’m the exact opposite. I can never sleep on a plane.

“You know, now really isn’t the time for a nap. We should be discussing the details of—”

She holds her hand up, cutting me off. “No. I need sleep to deal with you. Wake me up when we’re a half hour from landing. We can talk then.”

I want to argue with her, but much like her, I could use a bit of a break.

We’re less than twenty-four hours into this marriage and I’m already tired. And if the dark circles under her eyes are any indicator, she’s tired too.

“I can feel you staring at me, you know.”

“Just admiring your beauty is all,” I say with all the sarcasm I can muster.

She flips me off, and I laugh.

I fold my hands across my stomach and rest my head back against the seat. Even though I know I won’t sleep, I close my eyes anyway.

I don’t know how long it is before I hear a quiet, “Hey, Rhodes?”

“Hmm?” I respond, not opening my eyes.

“I’m sorry we’re in this mess.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry too.”

I don’t know why I do it, but I reach out and slide my hand over hers.

She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she laces our fingers together, and I rub the ring on her finger.

And for the first time ever, I sleep on the flight home.