Neutral Zone (Carolina Comets)

It’s official: I’m the fucking worst.

Practice ran long, I was trapped in the doc’s office for thirty minutes, and then I got sent down to press and ended up spending entirely too fucking long standing in front of a camera getting my picture taken about ten billion times.

By the time I got out, the truck was closed for the day, and I knew I was screwed, especially since we left for a road trip bright and early the next morning. We got five out of six possible points, and now we’re on the plane back to North Carolina. I’m itching for two things: a strawberry smoothie and to see Rosie so I can fix things between us because I know she must still be upset.

I talked myself out of asking Greer to ask Stevie for Rosie’s number about ten different times. The most recent was in the locker room before we boarded the plane. When Greer chucked his helmet across the room after the shootout loss, I figured it probably wasn’t the best moment.

Now, he’s passed out beside me, and I have my phone out angled away from him, Rosie’s stream playing in my ears. She’s currently pulling a fresh batch of cookies from the oven, and when she bends over, I can see the edges of her ass cheeks. I have to fight back a moan at the sight.

She hasn’t spoken for a half hour, and I wonder if it has anything to do with that asshole’s comments. It’s not the first time someone’s been a dick to her and I’m sure it won’t be the last, but I fucking hate that I can’t do anything about it. I can’t remember the last time I was so fired up about something. Maybe when Greer told me about that piece of shit who cornered Stevie at Slapshots and tried touching her?

I wasn’t lying to Hayes when I said I’ve never been in a fight, but that only extends to the ice. Off it, I’ve had my fair share of tussles, especially in high school when guys would try to mess around with my sister. Hell, I even missed two weeks of hockey when Richie Johnson slapped her ass in the middle of the cafeteria. It was worth every fucking minute of riding the bench.

Rosie keeps her video going for another few minutes, then signs off for the night. I miss her the second the screen goes black, and I want her to know she has someone in her corner. Before I can overthink it too much, I pull up the chat and shoot her a message.

ShootsAndScores: Evening, Ro.

RoPlaying: Hey there. : )

RoPlaying: How’s your night?

ShootsAndScores: Long and hard.

That’s not a lie, but what I don’t tell her is that we lost in overtime and I’m kicking myself because it was my fault. I lost my edge and went down, giving Seattle the opportunity for a breakaway in three-on-three hockey. They ripped it past Greer, and that was the end of the game. If I had just kept my stride, we’d have been fine. We lost a point thanks to me.

I’m not sure what it means that when I’ve had a rough night, she’s the first person I want to talk to, but I try not to think about it.

RoPlaying: Well, that sounds like a fun night to me. ; )

ShootsAndScores: Oh god, I didn’t mean…

ShootsAndScores: Anyway, I meant what I said. That guy deserves a kick in the nuts. I’d be more than happy to do it for you.

RoPlaying: And take away all my fun? Now that’s rude. *pouts*

ShootsAndScores: I see those types of comments roll in sometimes. The number of times I’ve had to bite my tongue so I don’t go off on people… Well, it’s a lot.

ShootsAndScores: I’m sorry you have to deal with that.

RoPlaying: It’s fine. I’m still getting paid either way. I mean, at least they compliment my great cans while being colossal dicks.

ShootsAndScores: You signed up to stream. You didn’t sign up to be treated like a piece of fucking meat. Guys are pigs.

RoPlaying: Does that include you?

Fuck. It includes me in ways she doesn’t even know.

ShootsAndScores: Sometimes, yes.

RoPlaying: Wow. I’m surprised by your honest answer. Most guys would pretend they’re perfect only to reveal later they were a liar the whole time.

ShootsAndScores: Experience in that?

RoPlaying: Years and years ago. I had an ex in high school who was very…friendly with everyone.

I gnash my teeth, trying my best to hold back all the bad words that want to flow out of me.

ShootsAndScores: Fuck that guy.

RoPlaying: Lots of people did.

RoPlaying: LOL Sorry. Easy joke.

RoPlaying: But, yeah, fuck that guy. He didn’t deserve me then, and he damn sure doesn’t deserve me now.

I love that she knows her worth, and I hope she always sticks to her guns on that.

RoPlaying: Thank you, by the way, for saying something in the chat. I think it helps when others comment back about what assholes people can be. I try to block them whenever I see something, but it moves so fast I don’t always get the chance.

ShootsAndScores: I’m always there to back you up.

ShootsAndScores: Well, when my schedule allows me to catch a stream, that is.

RoPlaying: You travel for work a lot, then, huh? Do you like it?

ShootsAndScores: I love it. I wouldn’t trade the job for anything.

RoPlaying: What do you do?

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.”

“Shh!” Hayes says from behind me. “People are trying to sleep, asshole.”

I glance over my shoulder to make sure he can’t see my screen, but I don’t have anything to worry about. He’s currently sporting a white eye mask that says Go Fuck Yourself and his head is bent at the most uncomfortable angle. Ford, the new guy on the team, is sitting next to him. He’s wearing headphones and his face is buried in his iPad, so I don’t think I have anything to worry about there either.

I turn my attention back to my phone, where another message is waiting for me.

RoPlaying: Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just, you know so much about me from streaming…

ShootsAndScores: Are you guilt-tripping me?

RoPlaying: Maybe a little?

ShootsAndScores: That’s okay. I’ll allow it.

Honestly, I’d allow her to do just about anything she wanted.

ShootsAndScores: I work in sports.

RoPlaying: Hence the name.

RoPlaying: Agent?

ShootsAndScores: Something like that.

RoPlaying: Do you work with hockey players at all?

I sit forward in my seat, my heart hammering so fucking loud I have a feeling it’s going to stir more than one guy awake.

Why the hell would she ask me that? I didn’t give anything away, did I?

Calm down. She’s probably just asking because the team is at the damn truck all the time. She knows hockey players. It’s cool. You’re cool.

I choose my next words very carefully.

ShootsAndScores: I know a few.

RoPlaying: Me too!

RoPlaying: I mean, not to brag or anything, but I actually know a whole team of them.

RoPlaying: Wow. That sounds like they’re running a train on me or something.

My breath gets stuck in my lungs, and I can’t breathe. I’m wheezing, my whole body burning with the inability to properly pull in air.

Hayes kicks at the back of my seat. “Dude, if you’re going to die, do it quietly, huh?”

I don’t even bother responding to him.

RoPlaying: OH MY GOD. I don’t know why I said that. Ignore me.

RoPlaying: I know them from my job. My other job. I bake. I LOVE baking. It’s my favorite thing.

ShootsAndScores: Even more than streaming?

RoPlaying: Oh, definitely. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love to stream and do this. It’s fun and it allows me to explore myself in ways I never knew I wanted to, so how could I not love it? But it’s not my passion. My passion is making delicious sweets. I’d love to open my own bakery someday.

ShootsAndScores: I think that’s incredible. You should do it.

RoPlaying: Yeah? I think so too.

RoPlaying: Do you like sweets? What’s your favorite kind? I’ll bake it next time so you can watch. : )

My cock aches at the idea of watching Rosie bake my favorite sweet. I can just picture her in nothing but an apron, smears of flour and icing all over her body as she whips up something with strawberries.

I try to wipe the image from my head, not because I don’t want to think about it but because if I keep thinking about it, there’s a chance I could blow my load without ever touching my cock.

ShootsAndScores: Strawberry donuts.

RoPlaying: Really? That’s so strange. That guy from the other night, the one who ghosted me, he’s a big strawberry nut too. I know because he ALWAYS orders two strawberry donuts. I don’t know where it all goes, though, because the man certainly doesn’t look like he eats two donuts every day.

RoPlaying: Sorry. I’m rambling. I do that sometimes.

ShootsAndScores: Don’t apologize. It’s cute.

RoPlaying: Okay, this is getting weird. HE said that to me too.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” It comes out all one word, and I can’t stop chanting it.

Why? Why would I say that? And why would I tell her strawberry donuts are my favorite? I’m being so fucking obvious I might as well just confess who I am right now.

ShootsAndScores: He sounds like a cool guy.

“Fucking really? That’s what you come up with?”

Another kick to the back of my chair from Hayes. Beside me, Greer rips his own eye mask off and whirls around in his seat, then smacks Hayes on the side of his head.

Hayes sits up with a glare. “Hey, man. What the fuck?”

“What the fuck is right. He’s not even being that loud, and you keep fucking kicking the seat because you’re being a little bitch about a tiny amount of noise. Shut up and deal with it like the rest of us or I swear to fucking god, I’m going to break your legs off and beat you with them myself.”

“That’s quite the vivid image,” Ford mumbles.

Greer turns his icy stare to the new guy, who just holds his hands up in the air.

“I’m being quiet,” he promises.

“Good. Now stop kicking the seat and go to sleep, Princess.”

Hayes doesn’t say anything. He just slips the mask back down his face and settles into his seat.

Greer flips around and falls back into his chair, and suddenly I’m the one he’s scowling at.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make you sit with Miller next time,” he tells me flatly.

“Hey, I heard that!” the guy in question calls from the back of the plane, earning himself a rousing chorus of “Shut up, Miller!” from just about everyone.

Greer smirks and nods toward my phone. “What are you doing over there? Watching porn?”

“I’m minding my own business.”

He shrugs. “Fair enough. Just keep it down.”

I nod, and he returns to his previous position, eye mask in place. It’s not even thirty seconds before he’s snoring softly beside me.

RoPlaying: He is when he’s not ditching me.

RoPlaying: Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him tonight. I’m still upset because he still hasn’t explained what happened.

ShootsAndScores: I’m sorry. He sounds like a jerk.

RoPlaying: He really isn’t.

RoPlaying: At least I don’t think so.

RoPlaying: I’m going to give him another chance whenever he gets back.

ShootsAndScores: Back?

RoPlaying: He travels for work a lot too.

RoPlaying: Wow. I just realized the two of you have a lot in common.

ShootsAndScores: Sounds like we’re both cool guys.

RoPlaying: That was terribly lame, and I loved it.

RoPlaying: Anyway, thanks for sticking up for me tonight. I like having you there to have my back.

ShootsAndScores: Happy to be of service.

RoPlaying: If I can ever be of service, just let me know. ; )

Does she mean…

I shake away the thought.

RoPlaying: Good night. XO

ShootsAndScores: Good night, Ro.

I click my screen off and set my phone against my chest. I close my eyes and am almost asleep when something hits me.

I pull the streaming site back up and navigate to our chat.

ShootsAndScores: In a totally non-pervy way, you’re gorgeous and worth watching…and not just because of your great cans.

I turn my phone off before I can see if she responds. This time, when I close my eyes, I go right to sleep…and I totally dream of Rosie.

“But, Mom! Puh-lease! Pretty, pretty please!”

“No.” Stevie shakes her head. “It’s a school night. You don’t need to be staying the night with Aunt Scout and Uncle Miller on a school night. You basically spent all summer with them. You can survive an entire week at home.”

“But they have a puppy!” Macie, Stevie’s young daughter, crosses her arms over her chest and sticks her bottom lip out. “I want a puppy.”

“You can get a puppy when you learn to not leave your backpack in the middle of the living room every day. Dogs are a big responsibility. How am I supposed to trust you with one when you don’t even clean up your own messes?”

“Because a dog is different!” The kid looks over at Greer. “Tell her, Greer!”

He holds his hands up. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.” He leans over to me. “Mostly because I’m totally on team Macie, and I’d rather not go without sex for agreeing with the kid over Stevie.”

“I heard that.” Stevie glares at her boyfriend, then turns back to her daughter. “Tell you what—we’ll talk about it when you’re twelve, how’s that?”

“Twelve? Twelve? That’s forever away!”

It’s not, but I’m sure to her, it feels like it. Thing is, I have a feeling Stevie is going to cave well before then, especially if Greer has anything to say about it.

Stevie pinches the bridge of her nose. “Macie…”

“Mom…” she mimics.

“I don’t have time for this. I need to go help Rosie,” her mother says, cutting her one last glare before turning and walking away, putting a pin in the conversation.

The kid lets out a sigh, then flops down on the picnic bench next to Greer. She looks up at me with sad eyes. “Do you have any pets?”

“I do.”

“What kind?”

“A shithead cat.”

She narrows her eyes. “You can’t say shithead, but I promise not to tell my mom.”

“Um, you just said shithead,” Greer points out.

Her eyes widen. “Oh crap.”

“You’re not supposed to say crap either.”

I swear her eyes get even bigger, and I have to tuck my lips together so I don’t laugh because she looks like she might cry.

“But if you promise to cool it with the puppy begging, I won’t tell your mom.”

“Really?”

Greer nods. “Yeah, but mostly because I want a puppy too, and if you keep it up, we’ll never get one. Your mother is stubborn.”

Macie rolls her eyes. “I know. She always tells me I got that from her.”

The goalie reaches over and tugs on her braids. “You did, and it’s my favorite thing about both of you.”

She smiles up at him, then looks over at me. “Can I meet your shithead cat?”

I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

“Yes!” She fist-pumps the air, then jumps off the bench, racing toward her mother, who is back inside the truck, rushing around with Rosie as they try to placate the line of hungry people. “Mom! Fitz said I could meet his cat!”

Stevie glowers our way, and Greer cowers under her heated stare.

We got in late last night and I crashed as soon as I walked through the door. I didn’t even cuddle with Carl like I usually do, something she was apparently very unhappy about this morning based on the fact that she ignored me when I was getting ready.

I was surprised to find Greer pulling into the parking lot of Scout’s Sweets at the same time I did. I wanted to beeline right for Rosie and explain to her what happened at Slapshots, but I don’t want to do it in front of Greer.

So instead, I’ve just been sitting here waiting for the right moment to talk with her.

“So, what’s up with you being here this morning?” he asks. “I figured you’d be at home being a loner or something.”

“Um, donuts. Obviously.”

He nods a few times. “Right. Obviously.” He slides his eyes toward the truck where Rosie is currently grinning at a customer, listening intently to whatever they say before throwing her head back on a laugh. “And it has nothing to do with her, right?”

I whip my head back. “Excuse me? Why would you say that?”

“Just a hunch. You two looked awfully cozy at Slapshots right before we left.”

“You were watching me at Slapshots? Didn’t your mom ever tell you it’s not nice to stare?”

“First, leave my beautiful angel of a mother out of this conversation.” He glowers at me. “Second, I was paying attention, not staring.”

“You know, every day you say something that makes me even more surprised you got Stevie to fall in love with you.”

He reaches down and grabs himself between the legs. “It’s my huge dick, not my pretty words that did it.”

“More like you are a huge dick.”

He grins. “And proud of it.” The smile slips just as quickly as it appeared because of course it did because it’s Greer and smiling is so not his thing. “Now tell me: do you have a thing for the hot baker or not?”

It’s my turn to glare at him, and I’ll give him credit because the dude is no fool. He knows why I’m glaring.

“So you do have a thing for her, then. Stevie had a suspicion, but she wasn’t totally sold, especially after Rosie said something about you bailing on her.”

I groan. “Stevie knows?”

He shrugs. “Not formally.”

“Good. She better not find out.”

“Oooh. Are we sharing secrets?” Rosie falls onto the bench across from us. “Who are they about? Tell me everything.”

My heart begins to hammer wildly in my chest. Where the hell did she come from? And did she hear any of that? Based on the way she’s staring at us both with wide, curious eyes, I’m going with no.

“Hey, Ro,” I say to her.

She narrows her eyes. “Ro?”

Oh fuck.

“Sorry, I meant Rosie. I don’t know why I said that.” I swear my face is on fire as her green eyes bore into me.

Greer presses his hand to my shoulder. “I’m going to go check on Stevie now that the line has died down.” He winks at Rosie. “Ro.” He walks behind her, pointing at her, then to me, then he makes a circle with his right hand and pokes his left index finger in and out of it, all while grinning like an idiot.

I want so badly to flip him off, but I know that’s going to make everything entirely too fucking obvious, so I don’t.

She shrugs. “It’s fine. I’ve never had a nickname before. I like it.”

“Nobody has ever called you Ro before?”

“Well, they sort of have.” She doesn’t elaborate on that, but she doesn’t know she doesn’t have to. “I’ve just always been Rosie. Even my…” She pauses, then swallows thickly. “Just Rosie.”

I nod. “Well, Ro it is, then.”

She grins, and I realize at this moment I missed that grin over the last few days more than I missed my strawberry smoothie and donut fix, and that’s saying something.

“So, Fitz…” She links her hands together, then rests her arms atop the table, leaning closer to me.

“So, Ro…” I mirror her movements, loving how much sweeter she smells the closer I get.

The corners of her mouth tug up, but it doesn’t last. “Why’d you ditch me at Slapshots?”

I sputter, completely caught off guard by her blunt question. She just went right for the jugular. Rip the Band-Aid off and whatnot.

“Um…” I reach up with my hand, lifting the hat I’m wearing and running my hand through my hair, then tugging the cap back down, this time backward. “I had to get home to someone.”

“Yeah, you said that. I’m assuming they’re okay. I mean, you were off playing hockey and stuff. If it was serious, you wouldn’t have been.”

“Yeah, everything is okay.”

“Oh. Good. I’m glad.”

She somehow looks upset by my answer, and I hate that. I hate that she doesn’t like it. I hate that there are probably a million questions and scenarios running through her head.

I clear my throat, which suddenly feels so fucking dry, then sit forward once more. Rosie looks up at me with unsure eyes.

“Do you want to know what I was doing?” I ask.

She twists her lips, flicking her eyes away before looking back at me. She nods once. “Please.”

“My cat.”

Her brows slide together, a deep wrinkle forming between her eyes. “Huh?”

“Carl, my cat. For some reason, she loves sneaking into my pantry and sitting on the bread loaf in there. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know. She’s weird. Anyway, I have this app on my phone that shows me a live feed of my place while I’m away, and I got a notification that she was in the camera’s view. I saw her go into the pantry. It wouldn’t be a big deal if the latch didn’t stick so badly, which is why I never close the door fully. So, when it shut behind her…”

“You had to go rescue her.”

I nod. “Exactly. I’m sure I could have explained that the other night, but I was worried because she’s scared of the dark, so I just…”

“Left.”

Another nod. “Yeah. I’m, uh, sorry about that. I’m kind of clueless sometimes in social settings. I guess it’s the loner in me.”

Rosie doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me. It’s not a blank stare or an angry stare. It’s just…a stare, and it has me twitching in my seat because I don’t have a damn clue what it means.

“Um, Rosie?”

“I have so many questions,” she blurts out. “I’m trying to figure out where to start.”

“I’ll answer them all.”

“Okay…” She leans forward, counting off the first question on her finger. “One: your female cat’s name is Carl?”

I chuckle because I knew this question would be first. It’s always everybody’s first one.

“Yes. Her name is Carl. I found her one night when I was out for a walk.” Before finding Rosie’s stream, I used to take them at night all the time when I couldn’t figure out how to calm my brain down. For obvious reasons, I don’t tell her that. “I saw this cat down in the alley, just a little thing, maybe six months old and skinny as hell. It had part of a Styrofoam cup from Carl’s Burgers around its neck. The cat was trying to get it off and couldn’t. It was so scared it scratched me all over the damn place when I tried to pick it up. When I got hold of the thing, I got the trash off, but I just couldn’t leave it on the street alone. I took it home and let it stay the night, then took it to the vet the next day. That’s when I learned it was female. I tried to change her name to something else, but she refused to respond to anything other than Carl, so it just stuck.”

Rosie’s grinning by the time my story is over, and… “Are you crying?”

“What? No!” She swipes at her obviously wet eyes. “Shut up. You’re crying.”

I laugh. “I’m not right now, but I totally did then.”

“Did you really?”

That same blush from before creeps back in. “Yeah. Now shut up.”

Rosie wipes at her eyes again with a sniffle. “Okay. That story is really sweet and also strange, but I have more questions. So, number two: Carl is afraid of the dark?”

“Oh yeah, big-time. She hates it. I keep a night-light on in every room so if she’s up roaming the apartment, she doesn’t get scared.”

Her mouth drops open.

“What?” I ask.

“That is…”

“Weird? Yeah, I know.”

“Sweet, Fitz. It’s incredibly sweet.”

I shift around, trying really fucking hard not to let that godforsaken redness creep back into my face.

“Question three: You have a camera for your cat?”

“Sure do.” I take my phone out and pull up the feed, then slide the device across the table. I point to the screen where Carl is sitting on her tower, lazing around in the morning sun. “See.”

“Aww, she’s so cute.”

I smile like a proud dad. “She’s a handful.” And a total cockblock.

“Clearly.” She gives my phone back. “That’s…cute.” She winks. “All right. I forgive you, then.”

“Wait—no questions about why she likes to lie on the bread?”

She shrugs. “Bread is soft. Totally makes sense.”

I laugh. “Right. Of course.”

Quiet falls over us. It’s almost awkward, but not quite there.

“So…” I start, trying to preserve the moment as long as I can. “Are we good?”

Rosie nods. “We’re good. Just maybe next time give a girl a short description of why you’re leaving so she doesn’t think you’re running off to a girlfriend or secret wife or booty call.”

A look crosses her features, one I know…one I’ve seen from several of the guys on the team before, especially when someone flirts with their girl.

It’s jealousy.

And a little worry.

“I don’t.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t have one, a girlfriend or secret wife or booty call.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?”

She bobs her head up and down slowly. “Okay. Good.”

Good.

I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what I want it to mean, but I do know it can’t mean anything.

“Are you going to the Halloween party tomorrow?” she asks.

I suppress a groan. I hate going to parties, and I really hate going to costume parties. But I find myself nodding anyway. “Yes. I have to. I’m pretty sure if I don’t, Lowell might rip my balls off, and since I’m kind of a big fan of those, I’d rather that not happen.”

“Nah. He’s getting soft in his old age, especially with that adorable baby of his and now that Hollis just had their second baby.”

She’s not lying there. I used to hear rumors of Lowell and his one-timer ways, but now he’s fully committed and settled down, officially a dad of two.

“Dammit, Greer, did you put her up to it?”

We both look to the donut truck, where Stevie is looking at Greer like she’s about ten seconds away from murdering him. He has his palms up in the air, doing his best to look innocent, though there is no doubt in my mind he’s not.

“Me? Never?” He bats his lashes, but she doesn’t buy it, and I don’t blame her.

Rosie hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I should get back before I have to help Stevie bury a body.”

“You’d do that?”

“In a damn heartbeat.” Rosie rises from the table but doesn’t make a move to walk away. “Thanks for explaining things to me. I look forward to hearing more stories about what a troublemaker Carl is.”

“Wait until I tell you about the time she snuck out and my neighbor, Miss Drake, brought her back wearing nothing but a G-string bikini. She’s eighty.” I shudder just thinking about it.

Rosie laughs. “It’s a date, then.”

She gives me a small wave before sauntering back to the donut truck, and I’m ashamed to admit I watch her ass the entire time. I mean, can I really be blamed? Especially when the material hugs all of her curves like it was made specifically for her?

When she’s about to step back inside, I realize something.

“Hey, Ro!” She spins around, her brows raised in a silent question. “Are you going?” She tips her head to the side. “The Halloween party.”

Please say yes.

“I’m not sure.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with a grin, and it takes everything I have not to march over to her and pull it loose again so I can feel it between my fingertips. “Maybe.”

“Well, then maybe I’ll see you there.”

That small smile? It turns into a full-on beam.

Maybe this party won’t be so bad after all.