SWNOVELS Desire or Defense: Chapter 27
I HAVE NEVER, in my twenty-six years of life, had a man bring me lunch at work. It was the most thoughtful gesture. And knowing he has a game tonight, it means even more that he made the time to do that for me.
They say food is the way to a man’s heart, but I’m pretty sure they meant a nurse’s heart.
After Mitch left, the other nurses—male and female—were in a tizzy about seeing a professional athlete. The girls want me to hook them up with his teammates, and the guys want to know if I can get them good seats at any of the games. I tell them no, on both fronts, and go on about my day. We don’t have much time to chitchat in the ICU anyway.
At the end of my shift, I have to catch up on charting that I was too busy to do during the day, and don’t make it home until eight thirty. When I walk inside, Noah is on the couch with the game already on. He’s wearing his new jersey and baseball cap and munching on popcorn. He looks up when I enter the room and smiles. “Hey, you missed Mitch’s goal.”
“Dang it!” I plop down onto the couch beside him and grab a handful of popcorn. “So he’s playing well?”
“Really good. And only one penalty, but it was a stupid call.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn’t a fight or anything crazy. All players get penalties once in a while. Peeking at the score in the top left corner of the television, I see that the Eagles are ahead 4-2 in the second period. A guy on the opposing team fakes out Colby and breaks away toward the Eagles’ net. He shoots the puck right into the corner. Poor Bruce. Now the score is nearly tied and I find myself scooting to the edge of my seat on the couch, focusing on the plays. My eyes are pinging back and forth as I keep them firmly on the puck flying across the ice.
Noah snorts a laugh and I look over my shoulder to see him watching me. “Never thought I’d see you get so into a hockey game.”
Forcing myself to relax and lean back, I respond, “You and me both.”
There’s a line change and Mitch skates onto the ice. A grin spreads across my face as I watch him. His movements on the ice are brutal and beautiful, and I can’t take my eyes off of him.
Before I can stop it, a sappy sigh escapes my lips and Noah groans. “Oh, my gosh. You’re ruining hockey for me.”
I shove him and steal the popcorn bowl.
“Hey!” he yells, grabbing for the bowl. “Hockey is my thing. Don’t make it gross with all your lovey-dovey crap.”
Giving up the popcorn bowl, I gasp and bring a hand to my chest. “Noah Gregory Downsby! Sassy jar!”
“Crap is not a swear word.”
“Oh, it definitely is,” I tease.
He laughs at me, rolling his eyes, and snatches some popcorn. I notice Mitch has the puck and turn my attention back to the game. Mitch passes the puck to West, but he’s blocked by the other players and there’s no way he can get a good shot in. He passes it back to Mitch. Mitch catches it easily then slaps the puck right between the legs of the opposing team’s goalie. Noah and I both jump up from the couch, me screaming and Noah whooping.
“Good shot, Big Man!” I say to the T.V. Then I feel stupid and pull out my phone to text him. He obviously won’t read it for a while, but at least it will be waiting for him.
ANDIE
Some smoking hot Eagles defenseman just scored his second goal.
Noah groans, I hadn’t realized he was reading over my shoulder. “You guys are so weird.”
I sit back down, a wide grin on my face. “Oh, little brother. Some day you’ll meet a girl who makes your heart feel all funny and you’ll act stupid too.”
His face twists up, making me laugh. “Yeah, I doubt that. I’ll be too busy playing hockey.”
Laughing, I roll my eyes.
A few hours later, the game is done. The Eagles killed it, winning 6-3. Noah is in bed asleep, and I check my phone.
BIG MAN
I see how it is, you change your tune after I bring you food.
ANDIE
What can I say? A twelve-inch sub is the key to my heart… but I can settle for a six-inch too.
BIG MAN
Oh, I can do better than a six-inch, Blondie.
I snicker and wish I could see his face right now. Is he smirking? Blushing? Or does he have that broody expression so no one around him knows he’s actually in a good mood?
Also, is he in the locker room, and does he have his shirt off?
ANDIE
Are you still in your hockey gear?
BIG MAN
Why?
ANDIE
No reason.
BIG MAN
I’m cooling down with my shirt off.
ANDIE
*gif of a woman fanning herself and swooning*
BIG MAN
You’re trouble.
The next morning, a friend of Noah’s from school called and invited him to come over and play Roblox. He thought I was the best sister ever for saying yes and promptly driving him across town, but really, it was totally selfish of me.
I love my brother with all my heart, but I also want to spend time with Mitch. Which is going to be difficult between our schedules and Noah’s. Noah is pretty much going to have a front-row seat to me and Mitch’s courtship, or whatever you wanna call it.
I barely make it through the front door after dropping Noah off before I’m calling Mitch to see if he’s free today. The other end of the line rings and rings. Remembering he had practice this morning, I leave a message.
“Hey Big Man. I’m surprisingly free today, sans brother. I thought you might like to squeeze in a sporadic date? Call me back when you can!”
On the off chance he’s free after practice, I run upstairs to take a quick shower. I even do the long routine I never take the time to do these days. Shaving, exfoliating, polishing, deep conditioning the hair. All the things Mitch won’t notice, but will make me feel like a goddess.
When I step out of the steamy shower, I wrap my body in one towel and my hair in another, then go to the closet. I find my favorite jeans quickly, but remember I put the rest of my clothes in the dryer this morning. They should be done by now. Making sure my towel is secure, I run down the stairs to the utility room where the washer and dryer are located. The dryer is still spinning round and round and I can hear a few hard items in there clunking around.
I roll my eyes. When you live with a boy under the age of thirteen, your dryer is essentially just a rock tumbler. The dryer comes to a stop and dings. I open it and grab the top I want to wear. It’s a long-sleeved bodysuit in a caramel brown color, it makes my eyes stand out and I think Mitch will love it.
Running back up the stairs, I’m out of breath by the time I check my phone again. One missed call and a voicemail from Mitch. I press play while I dry my hair.
“Blondie,” his deep voice oozes over the phone. My spine tingles just from his voice. I’ll never delete this message. I will play it right before I fall asleep every night. “It’s your lucky day. I’m free after practice. Call me back so I know what time to pick you up.”
I walk back inside the bathroom, phone in hand, hang my towel up, and grab a comb for my hair. I call Mitch back and put the phone on speaker, then start combing through the tangles in my hair.
“Hey,” his voice rumbles through the phone and under my skin. I shiver, and not because I’m cold. “We finally caught each other.”
“Hey,” I say back. This game of phone tag is a reminder of how opposite our schedules, and lives, are.
“Can I pick you up in twenty minutes?” he asks and I nearly gasp. I look in the mirror and see my wet hair that’s only half combed out and my still towel-clad, dripping wet body.
“Have you ever known a woman to get ready in twenty minutes?”
A breathy laugh comes through the other line. “Okay, so how much time do you need?”
“Forty-five minutes?”
He sighs. “Alright, see you in forty-five.”
“Okay, and Mitch?”
“Yeah?”
“This is our first date.”
“The penthouse was our first date,” he argues.
I shake my head and make a nu-uh sound. “That was to schedule something for my brother. Doesn’t count.”
“You and I both know that’s not why I had you over.”
“Sorry, no time to argue. Gotta get ready for our first date.”
“Fine. See you in forty.” I can practically hear the eye roll in his voice.
“Forty-five,” I argue.
“Nope, you wasted five minutes arguing with me.”
I groan. “Fine, okay bye!” I hang up so I don’t lose any more time, and quickly finish combing and then blow drying my hair.
Forty minutes, exactly, later… my doorbell rings. Thankfully, I had a feeling Mitch Anderson would be punctual, and I’m ready to go. And I smell great.
Grabbing my coat off the peg in the entryway, I throw it over my shoulders and open the door. Mitch is standing there looking like a snack in dark-wash jeans, a green sweater, and a black leather jacket.
Yes, ladies… a black… leather… jacket. I manage to squeak out something that sounds like hi.
Mitch scans me slowly, starting at my hair and moving down to my feet. I feel his gaze like a caress and have to hold back the urge to turn away. When his eyes meet mine, his are molten and heated. His voice is low when he says, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how pretty you are.”
I hold back a whimper. Before I’ve recovered from his sweet words, he leans in and kisses my cheek, allowing his talented lips to linger on my skin for a few seconds. He hums as he pulls back. “You smell really good. Not like bubble gum today. Although, I like the bubble gum scent too.”
“Of course you do,” I say, stepping out the front door then locking it behind me. “Because you love Captain Bubbles.”
He snickers and takes my hand, leading me down the front steps and to his shiny black whatever-it-is parked on the street in front of my house. (I know anatomy, not cars.)
Mitch opens the door for me and I slide inside the fanciest car I’ve ever been in. The shiny, leather seat squeaks when I slide in, and the lights shift when Mitch closes the door. As he’s walking around the car to the driver’s side, I notice there’s a small screen and it’s displaying a crackling fireplace. When Mitch gets in on the driver’s side and closes his door, my mouth is still gaping.
“Why do you look like that?”
My eyes that are already wide open, grow even wider as I gawk at him. “Why does your futuristic car have a fireplace?”
“You’ve never seen a Tesla?” He asks, his eyebrows drawing together.
“No, Mitch. I’m not a quadrillionaire like you!”
He chuckles and starts to pull out of the parking spot, actually, the car might be doing it for him. He’s just sitting there for looks.
“Teslas are actually pretty affordable.”
I scoff. “Yeah, okay.” Looking around and into the backseat, I notice how clean it is and how nice it smells. “Wow, no hockey gear and random shoes scattered about. I’m impressed.”
“Oh, trust me, when I was Noah’s age, my granddad’s car was a mess of hockey gear and dirty socks.” He shakes his head with a smile, as if remembering something. “And the smells that came from that old Buick… worse than a locker room, no doubt.”
I smile, watching him intently. “Tell me more about your granddad, he sounds special.”
“He was.” He sighs, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “He had a temper, I came by it honestly. But the eight years I lived with him were the best years I can remember.” Mitch pauses, looking over at me and then back toward the busy road in front of him. I note that he’s a safe and cautious driver, something I’ve come to look for and appreciate about people. “He taught me to work hard, and to own up to my mistakes. But more than anything, he gave me an education about all things John Wayne related.” His mouth pulls up in a smile.
“John Wayne… like the cowboy actor guy?”
He reaches one giant hand over and squeezes my thigh gently. “Oh, Blondie. I’m so relieved you know who that is. I can forgive you for Wayne Gretzky, but not knowing John Wayne might’ve been a deal breaker.”
Laughing, I place my hand over the top of his. He stares at the road, his demeanor calm. “I want to tell you everything, about my past, my family. But it’s not easy, it’ll take time. It’ll be in bits and pieces, when I can get it out.”
“That’s okay. Whenever you feel like sharing, I’m here.” I rub the back of his hand with my thumb, but keep my gaze on the side of his face. On his sharp profile, a profile not even his soft beard can disguise.
“So, have you ever seen a John Wayne movie?”
He looks over at me as he comes to stop at a red light and I give him a hesitant smile. “I haven’t.”
He tsks. “Then I know what we’re doing today.”
Thirty minutes later, Mitch parallel parks outside a small, old-looking theater. One of those that plays movies that have already been out for years. The kind of place a couple goes just to make out and not actually watch a movie. The large sign above the ticket box at the front of the brick building reads: Stage Coach 11:00 & 2:00, Funny Face 4:00 & 7:00.
“Are we gonna sit in the back and kiss the whole time?” I tease.
He shakes his head. “Your mind is always in the gutter.”
Mitch gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. We walk to the ticket box hand in hand. A giddiness builds inside of me at how date-y this feels. Like a normal boyfriend and girlfriend. No little brothers around to make fun of me, and no fans around to berate Mitch. Just the two of us at a practically empty theater.
We walk up to the ticket booth where a teenage boy with blond hair draped over his left eye ignores us. He’s reading a book and doesn’t seem to care that there are customers needing assistance. Mitch clears his throat and the boy looks up slowly. He heaves an annoyed sigh, places a bookmark in his book and mutters, “How can I help you.”
“Two tickets to Stagecoach, please.” Mitch says, extending cash for said tickets.
They make their exchange and as we walk away the boy mumbles something about John Wayne and toxic masculinity under his breath. Mitch stays calm, taking my hand again, and heading inside to the concession stand. We wait there, looking around for someone to help us, when the front door opens and the teenage boy steps inside and around behind the register of the concession stand.
“On your own today?” I ask.
He just rolls his eyes and asks what we want. Wow, what customer service. I take a moment to appreciate that Noah isn’t like this, and also steel myself for the angsty teenage years. Yikes.
We get snacks and sodas. Mitch goes for the beef jerky, and I get the sour straws. Of course, he ordered the most protein-packed snack option available. Sweet and salty… both wonderful in their own way, but don’t really go together at first glance. Kind of like us.
Mitch leads me inside the one and only theater room. Not multiple like the modern ones. The place is kind of run down, and looks like no one has vacuumed all week. Little bits of popcorn litter the floor. Not too surprising, considering the only employee I’ve met so far.
“I know it’s not fancy,” Mitch says as he kicks at an empty soda cup. “But the privacy here is top notch.”
I laugh. “That’s okay. I’m happy just to hang out with you. Also, I’m now terrified for Noah to become a teen.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Hormones are the worst.”
We sit down in the very center of the back row and I hum to myself. Mitch’s head whips in my direction at the sound, a question on his scrunched up face. “What?”
“Back row.”
His face eases into a cocky smirk and he does something I never thought he’d ever do… he winks.
Giggling, I take my seat next to him. His mountain man scent making the stale popcorn smell fade away. I lean my head on his big shoulder and the previews start playing on the big screen. Being an old theater, the arm rest between us isn’t one of those that can be pushed up for better snuggling. Damn it. Apparently, we’re actually watching this movie then.
Mitch notices me wiggling the arm rest and smirks. “You can just sit on my lap if you’re that desperate to get close to me.”
“I’m not desperate. Just checking this thing in case there’s an emergency.” I pound on the armrest a few times to get my point across.
“Right.”
We sit silently, watching previews for movies that were released years ago. The title for Stagecoach finally pops up and the long credits start scrolling across the screen. I forgot they used to play before the movie. Mitch leans over and whispers, “Tell me about your parents?”
Taking a deep breath, I whisper back, “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you one thing about my parents, then you tell me one thing about yours.”
He rolls his lips together while he thinks it over. “Okay, that’s fair.”
“My mom was the exact opposite of me in every way,” I begin. “Except for our physical appearance.”
“I noticed,” he says with a smile. “From the photo in your house.”
I smile back at him. “She was calm where I’m wild, wise where I’m scattered, and I never heard her complain once… while I’m dramatic about, well, most things. She was just the best. And I’m not just saying that because she’s gone and I’m only remembering the good things. She was really the greatest person ever, I always wanted to be just like her.”
He chuckles, but takes my hand and rests them both on the arm rest. “I didn’t know your mom, but I happen to think you’re pretty great, even if you aren’t just like her.”
I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.” Leveling him with a serious stare, I say, “Okay, your turn.”
He looks away from me, body tensing. He clears his throat and speaks in a low voice. “I don’t have a lot of memories of my mom, but I do remember she had hazel eyes like mine, and her hair was long and dark.” He huffs a laugh. “When I was really little, I used to wrap my finger around the ends of it when she put me to bed. The times she was there to say goodnight to me stand out, because she was gone a lot even before she left. Probably running around with different men. When she did officially leave, I was sad, of course, but I mostly remember my dad’s reaction. I remember him completely changing.”
“I’m sorry, Mitch,” I say, not knowing what words to describe how sorry I am for that little boy who grew up without love and hugs from his own mother. I place my free hand on his arm, hoping the touch lets him know I’m here, and that he can talk to me.
“Your turn,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
The movie starts playing, but it’s just background noise to our conversation. I’m assuming he’s seen this movie before, because he doesn’t seem to care that he’s missing it.
“My dad worked a lot, and he was quiet. A lot like Noah. I wasn’t as close with him as I was with my mom. He was a good man, just a man of few words. But he loved hockey, especially the Eagles.” I grin at Mitch, then look down at our clasped hands. “He would’ve loved you.”
Mitch stares ahead at the screen for a while, his face looks concentrated and intense. Not like he’s watching the movie, but like he’s deep in thought. Finally, he looks at me. “I wish I could tell you something good about my parents. Something nice. That they’d love you, or how much fun we had. But I just… can’t.”
“Mitch, I’m here because I like you. Because I want to get to know you. I’d like to hear whatever you feel comfortable telling me about your family. Good or bad, I just want to know what makes you… you.”
He nods. “Well, I already told you my good memory. The one about the lion at the circus.” He sighs. “But after my mom left, Dad started drinking. I imagine he wanted to numb the loss. But then he got into drugs too… At first he just purchased them. But the real trouble started when he couldn’t afford to buy them anymore, and started dealing.”
He bends over and rests his elbows on his knees.
Taking my hand off of his arm, I move it to his broad, muscled back, moving it back and forth over the expanse of his shoulders. I hate that his parents were so awful.
“Is that why you don’t drink?” I ask.
He nods. “I don’t want to be anything like either of them.”
“You’re not,” I tell him honestly. Because he’s a genuinely good person. And I want him to believe that as much as I do.
I continue to rub his back, hoping to comfort him, but he starts shaking silently. I think he’s crying at first, then realize he’s laughing. It’s a humorless laugh, but definitely a laugh.
“You’re telling me how wonderful your parents are, meanwhile my Dad is literally a drug dealer.” He shakes his head, looking over at me. “You have to admit, it’s almost funny how mismatched we are.”
“I like you for you, and it has nothing to do with your parents. But I am sorry they suck so bad.”
He huffs out another laugh.
“My parents weren’t perfect, maybe they weren’t pimps or drug dealers, but they were far from perfect.”
“Did you just say pimps?”
“Uh, yeah.”
He snorts a laugh. “You know, my therapist would be jealous of you.”
“Why?”
“You’ve gotten me to talk about my parents more in one week than he has in over a month.” He turns his expression back to the screen again.
“I’m more than happy to listen.” I squeeze his hand. “But you should talk to him about your family. It would help. After losing my parents, I didn’t stay in therapy as long as Noah, but in the few months I talked to a counselor, it helped a lot.”
“Is that how you’re able to stay so positive? Because of therapy?” he asks.
“Maybe, although I’m definitely not always positive. I do this weird thing, actually…”
“Yeah? What?”
I bite my bottom lip, feeling self-conscious. “Well, I think of three things I’m grateful for every day. And I try to focus on those three things.”
“Really? He asks, not judging me, but clearly surprised. “And it works?”
I sit up in my chair, angling myself to look at him. “Try it!”
“Nooooo….”
I nudge him with my hand. “Come on. Just three things. That’s it.”
He begrudgingly agrees, squinting as he thinks. “Andie’s lips. Andie’s legs…” He thinks some more. “And Andie’s belly button.”
I burst out laughing, thank goodness we’re alone in this theater. “You’re ridiculous.”
He opens his eyes, grinning wolfishly, then leans in and gives me a slow, tender kiss. When he settles back in his seat, I’m still fuzzy from the kiss.
“I think I want to stay in therapy. Technically, my month of counseling is done. But I’m going to talk to him about continuing,’ he whispers.
His words instantly clear the fog of the kiss and I look over at him. “I think that’s great.”
“So, you’re okay with dating an emotional basket case with daddy and mommy issues?” he asks, looking over at me with a smirk.
“Well, I guess so. But only because your abs make up for it.”
He quirks a brow. “You’ve never seen my abs.”
Tapping my index finger on my temple, I say, “Oh, but I have a very over-active imagination.”
Mitch’s head drops back and he laughs. I soak up the sound, relish in it, saving it in my internal ‘Mitch’s laugh’ bank.
We watch the rest of the movie in comfortable silence, holding hands and enjoying the nearness… even though the armrest won’t budge. I tried three more times.
Mitch dropped me back off at my place just in time so I could go get Noah from his friend’s house. Our date was much too short for my liking, but at least I get to see him again tonight at Noah’s game.
Wow, I think I’m officially a Mitch addict.
Noah rests in his room for his game tonight while I catch up on chores around the house. We make it to the rink and he heads straight to the locker room to suit up.
When I walk inside the arena, I’m greeted instantly by a sour-faced Steph.
“Really, Andie?” She asks me abruptly, getting way too close to my face.
“Really what?” I ask, completely confused.
She huffs and points to the bleachers. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest when I see not only Mitch, but Remy, Colby, Bruce, West and Mel. Mel waves at me with a big, friendly smile that warms my heart and I wave back enthusiastically. I completely forget Steph is in front of me until she clears her throat indignantly.
“I’m sorry, what’s the problem?”
She purses her lips so tightly, it almost looks like she’s sucking on an imaginary pacifier. I kind of wish she was, because that would keep her mouth shut. When I first met Steph, I thought she was a little annoying, but I never imagined she was a mean girl.
“It’s really petty of you to not only sleep with the coach, but also befriend the team, just to get back at Declan for ‘teasing’ Noah.” She uses air quotes with her gloved hands when she says teasing.
“My relationship with Mitch isn’t anybody’s business, Steph. And honestly, I have way bigger things to worry about than getting revenge on a ten-year-old boy.” I work hard to keep my face neutral and be the bigger person here. Because the idea of me plotting all of this is absolutely laughable.
“He’s twelve!” She defends. “And I think you’re jealous that he’s more talented than your brother. So you’re trying to keep Noah in the limelight.”
My facade breaks and I release a breathy laugh. “Steph, do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”
“All I know, is you’re acting like a hussy.” She spits the last word in a venomous tone.
I gasp, horrified by how awful she is. Mitch is beside me, towering over both of us so quickly, I didn’t even see him coming. He places his big body between both of us like a wall of protection.
I can’t see his face, but he very slowly, and very sternly says, “Do not speak to Andie that way.”
Tori walks through the doors to the rink and notices the altercation. She rushes over toward us. “Guys, what’s going on?”
“Your friend called my girlfriend a hussy,” Mitch says, crossing his arms.
I step out from behind him so I can see what’s happening. Tori’s eyes widen and she whips her head to stare at Steph. “What? Steph…”
She pouts. “I said what I said. And I was standing up for Declan!”
Tori puts an arm around Steph’s shoulders, and drags her away silently.
“Girlfriend?” I ask, my heart pounding in my ears. That’s pretty much the only word I heard during this super weird altercation.
Mitch’s head turns in my direction, his gaze meeting mine. He looks serious, contemplative. I can’t read his expression or what he’s thinking. His eyes shift down to the floor, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. It just came out.”
“That’s okay.” I try not to let my face fall and place my hand in his. I want to ask what he means by it just came out. Did it just come out because he was defending me and it didn’t mean anything, or did it just come out because he really thinks of me as his?
Because I think I’d really like to be his.
Silently, we walk to the bleachers. I take a seat beside Melanie, and Mitch sits next to me. West is on Mel’s other side, and Remy, Colby, and Bruce are in the row behind us. I can barely contain my smile when I notice they’re all wearing Wombats gear. I feel a little bad that I don’t have a single Wombats item. Bad sister move.
“I can’t wait to see your brother play, I’ve been told he’s basically a prodigy.” Mel oozes warm friendliness that is rare to find. Her smile is so genuine as she talks about Noah that it brings tears to my eyes. I quickly blink them away and swallow.
“Thanks, he works really hard.”
“He’s infinitely better than Freckles,” Mitch mutters the words so quietly, I barely hear him. I turn and give him a mulish glance, but he doesn’t even look a little abashed. He just stares right back at me.
He’s obviously still perturbed by Steph calling me out like that in public. I’m annoyed, and even a little embarrassed by it, but those feelings are overshadowed by the satisfaction of Mitch defending me. It’s been a long time since I had someone to defend me, to stand up for me. And it feels pretty damn good.
Turning my attention back to Mel, I note that West has an arm around her waist and the smile of a man completely in love. Watching them makes me want to breathe out a happy sigh.
Mel leans into West, but keeps her eyes on me. “So, you had a date this morning?”
“Yeah, Mitch took me to see a movie.”
Colby and Bruce snicker behind me, I look over my shoulder just in time to see Remy elbow Bruce in the ribs and shush him.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
He uses air quotes when he says, “To see a movie.”
Remy rolls his eyes like he’s babysitting two small, hyper children and needs a break. “Some guys can take a woman to a movie and actually watch the movie, you know.”
“We didn’t watch the movie,” I say with a suggestive smirk. “I couldn’t begin to tell you what it was about.”
Remy blushes so hard that he looks ten years younger and so boyish. I laugh. Mitch’s rumbly, low voice comes from beside me, “We didn’t watch the movie because we were talking.” He pins them with a steely glare. “Get your minds out of the gutter.”
The kids get in place on the ice for the start of the game and everyone on the bleachers quiets down. I wish youth hockey had announcers like the NHL, maybe then I’d actually have a clue what was happening during these games. Instead, I just copy the people around me. If the crowd is cheering… then I cheer too.
Noah’s on the first line as usual, but not Declan this time. I’m sure Steph somehow thinks that’s my fault. The kids start playing and the guys chat the entire time about what’s happening and comment on the kids’ abilities. It’s like having my very own announcers to sit with.
“Dang, Noah really is good,” West says, looking over at me and Mitch. “Reminds me of myself when I was that age.”
Melanie pats his cheek. “Yeah, you wish.”
Noah scores a goal and we all jump up and scream, cheering for him enthusiastically. The guys’ antics, along with the sheer size of them, are probably shaking the bleachers. Noah looks over at the stands and shakes his head slowly, like we’re so embarrassing. It’s such a Mitch thing to do; it makes me laugh.
“Oh, my gosh. You’re rubbing off on him,” I say to Mitch.
His eyebrows raise slightly. “You mean because his game is on point?”
“No,” Bruce answers for me. “Because he’s got the Mitch ‘The Machine’ glare down pat.”
We all laugh, except Mitch.
Shifting in my seat on the cold, uncomfortable bench, I realize that I was so high from my date with Mitch that I forgot to grab my bag that contains my mittens and hat before leaving the house. Thankfully, I’m wearing a sweater over my bodysuit, but my hands and face are freezing. I release a little shiver and Mitch looks at me with those adorably furrowed brows.
He shrugs off his sexy leather jacket and gently places it over my shoulders. It’s so big, it’s practically a blanket. And the scent of the big man himself envelopes me… it’s like entering a bakery and being overwhelmed by the smell of freshly baked bread… but the Mitch Anderson mountain-scented version.
“Where’s your hat?” he asks quietly as he takes both of my hands and presses them between his own to keep them warm.
“You noticed my hat?” I’m a little surprised he was paying enough attention to note that I typically wear a knit-beanie to hockey games and practices.
He leans in close to my ear, his soft lips and beard brushing against my earlobe. I shiver at the feel of him being so close. “I notice everything about you,” he whispers in that deep, manly tone.
In my opposite ear, Bruce’s voice whispers, “Hey, can you guys talk a little louder? It’s really hard to eavesdrop when you’re whispering.”
Colby nudges his head in between me and Mitch’s. “Yeah, I’m with Bruce on this,” he says in the loudest whisper I’ve ever heard. A whisper so loud and dramatic I burst out laughing and shoo them both away with my hands.
Mitch sends them both a we’ll be talking about this later look. I realize then that he and Remy are the dads of the group. The stern ones. A thought enters my head that Mitch would be a great dad. I push the thought away, because wow… way too fast, Andie.
Just then, a tall woman with short, blonde hair walks through the doors of the arena. Her eyes brighten when she spots our group and starts walking toward us. Her smile is natural and pretty and she reminds me of a 1920’s swinger-goddess… with her long limbs and lean figure. Her curly hair coils gracefully around her face. But despite her reed-like figure and her short hair, she oozes femininity and beauty.
Mel stands and rushes toward her, they hug each other and chat enthusiastically.
Bruce giggles behind me. Yes, the man giggled like a school boy. I hear Colby tell him to shut up. Turning around, I pin them both with a curious stare. “What am I missing?”
Remy, being the only mature adult in the row behind us, answers, “That’s Noel, Mel’s best friend, and Colby’s unrequited love.”
“Oooooooooh.” I pump my eyebrows up and down to a now very red, Colby.
Mel and Noel amble toward us, arm in arm. “Andie! Meet my friend Noel,” Mel says, gesturing toward her gorgeous friend. I stand up to shake Noel’s hand, but she releases Melanie and pulls me into a big hug.
“Great to meet you!”
“You too,” I say, pulling back from the hug. Noel is a good six inches taller than me, but her hug is warm and she smells really good. I can see why Colby is enamored with her.
Colby, who’s recovered now from Noel’s unexpected appearance, is back to his charming self. “Noel, baby,” he drawls. “Where’s my hug?”
Noel shoots him an annoyed look. Mel chuckles at their encounter and gestures for West to scoot down and make room for her friend. Noel takes a seat between me and Mel, then Colby leans down, still trying to win Noel’s attention. I have a feeling he’s used to being the center of attention, and doesn’t often fail at getting the attention he desires… especially from women.
“So, you’ll come to Noah’s games but not mine?” he says.
She sighs heavily. “I’m here to hang out with my friends, Knight. I couldn’t care less about hockey.”
He jabs his fist into his chest like it’s a knife and then groans dramatically. Noel ignores him.
“So, you don’t know who Wayne Gretzky is, then?” I ask.
She glances at me, a question in her eyes. Probably wondering why the heck I’d ask about Gretzky. “Of course I know who The Great One is. Everyone knows that,” she huffs out a laugh as she says it.
Mitch starts snickering beside me and the rest of the guys laugh so loud, I swear they rattle the bleachers again. We’re going to get kicked out at this rate.
But I also can’t help but laugh right along with everyone else. A happiness filters through me that I haven’t felt in a long time. That feeling of belonging, of having friends. Of having a tribe. I always sit alone at these games, and I never realized how lonely that was until now. Until I had these people here, making me laugh. I scoot a little closer to Mitch and relish in the feeling of being surrounded by him and his teammates. He may not consider them close friends… but deep down, I think he’s a lot more fond of them than he even admits to himself. I feel his chin rest on the top of my head and close my eyes.
Three things I’m grateful for: Mitch, his goofy friends, and not sitting alone during Noah’s game.