Scoring Chance (Carolina Comets)

Normally I’d head to Scout’s truck after practice, but that’s not really an option right now.

So here I am, walking toward Wright, Rhodes, and Lowell with a tray in my hand, hoping like hell I can use them as a distraction because I badly need one.

“So, then,” Wright says as I take a seat, “his boyfriend looks at me and goes, ‘Oh, you’re not William.’”

All the guys laugh, but I’m completely confused as to what’s going on.

“What are you guys talking about?” I ask.

“Wright’s brother is in town and brought his boyfriend along with him. They’re staying over at his and Harper’s place,” Harkens, one of our other teammates, explains. “Wright came home from practice yesterday, and the boyfriend answered the door with his lips puckered up for a kiss, thinking it was Wright’s brother.”

“No shit?” I chuckle. “What’d you do?”

“I kissed him,” Wright answers with a shrug. “I couldn’t leave the guy hanging.”

Everyone laughs again.

“Harper asked me all night long who the better kisser is, him or her.”

“And?” Rhodes asks.

Wright smirks. “I told her it was a tie just to fuck with her. She hasn’t talked to me all morning. I can’t wait for makeup sex later.”

“You’re crazy, man,” Harkens says, rising from his chair and clapping Wright on the back. “I’m out of here. Got to get home—my kid is potty training, and based on the text from my wife, let’s just say there’s a mess waiting for me when I get there.”

Harkens and a few other guys take off, leaving me with just Wright, Rhodes, and Lowell.

“So, what’s up with you lately, Miller?” Rhodes takes a drink of his Gatorade, eying me.

“Yeah, I feel like you haven’t really been around to annoy us,” Lowell says.

“I heard he has a girlfriend,” Wright tells them.

“That so?” Rhodes shoots his eyes my way. “Anyone we know?”

I roll my eyes because it’s clear they know about Scout and me, and I assume they heard it from their wives. I guess they missed the rest of the story, though.

“Ha, ha. You’re all a bunch of comedic geniuses.”

“I think we’re fucking hilarious,” Lowell deadpans.

I grunt, stabbing at the pasta on my plate and shoveling a bite into my mouth.

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise already?” Rhodes asks.

“Huh?” I look up.

He nods toward my food. “You just stabbed that pasta so hard you bent your fork.”

I look down at the metal utensil in my hand, and sure enough, it’s bent.

I’m not entirely surprised, though. I’m angry. So damn mad. How the fuck could Scout say we meant nothing to her and there’s no future for us? How could she just stand there and stare at me when I poured my heart out to her?

It hurts really fucking bad.

“You okay, man?” Lowell asks, caution lacing his voice.

I toss my now useless silverware down with a sigh, running a hand over my face. It’s been a long two weeks, and I’m tired. Every time I lie down in bed and close my eyes, all I can see is Scout standing there staring at me like I’m insane as I confess that I’m in love with her. I’ve been running on about four hours of sleep a night, and I’m barely eating enough to have the energy to skate.

It’s not good for a lot of reasons. I need to get my shit together and fast.

“Miller?” Wright prompts when I don’t say anything. There’s worry laced in the single word, and fuck if it doesn’t make me feel some shit I really don’t want to right now. “You can talk to us, you know. About anything.”

I know that. I do. It’s just…I don’t know if I want to talk about this because it sucks so bad.

But they’ve all been here before. Maybe they’ll know what I should do.

“I’m a virgin,” I blurt out. Then I laugh sardonically. “Well, not anymore I’m not, but I was…until Scout. Greer knew, and the fucked-up thing is that I didn’t even know I liked her until he flirted with her, and I hated it because I wanted it to be me flirting with her. Then one thing led to another, and now we’re having sex, and it’s great and not the problem at all. The problem is I’m in love with her, and I told her, and she said nothing. This was after I found out she’s been writing a fucking book about us. I’m not even that upset about that part. I’m more pissed about the fact that I laid it all out there for her, and she just stood there, looking at me like I’m the asshole for having the audacity to fall in love with her. But can I really be blamed? She’s amazing. She’s smart and gorgeous and does this really cute thing where she mimics all the facial expressions the characters do when she’s reading her books, and I just really, really love spending time with her, and it’s all I want to do. I’m…” I suck in a sharp breath then exhale. “I’m hopelessly fucking in love with her and yet still so damn upset with her.”

There’s a hushed silence that falls over the table. I don’t want to look up; I’m too scared to see the expressions on their faces.

But I’m curious too.

I sneak a glance at Rhodes and—holy fuck. Is he smiling?

I look at Wright and Lowell, and they’re doing the same thing.

“What?” I ask.

They all burst out laughing.

Wright grabs his water bottle off his tray and takes a big drink, shaking his head. “You’re definitely in love, dude.”

“I know. That’s what I said.”

“Yeah, but like, you’re really in love,” Rhodes tells me.

“I know,” I say again.

“Like really, really in love.”

“I fucking know!” I practically yell. It pulls the attention of someone walking by, and I sink lower into my seat. “I know,” I repeat, this time quieter. “What do I do? What if she doesn’t love me back?”

Nobody says anything for a long time, and I fucking hate it because it makes all the fears I have that much more real.

“Harper didn’t love me. At least not right away,” Wright confesses. “I fell for her first.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Yeah. It, uh, definitely took some time for her to reciprocate those feelings. It hurt to hear at first, I won’t lie. Like really fucking hurt. I’d rather take ten puck hits from Beast than ever feel that shit again.”

“That’s how I feel right now. Like I’m bruised and broken, and everything just feels…wrong. Is that weird?”

The guys all shake their heads.

“I’m so mad at her and love her so much at the same time. Is that weird?”

“No, man. It sucks, but that’s love sometimes,” Wright says.

“What did you do in the meantime? When it took Harper time to come around, I mean.”

“I waited for her.” He shrugs. “She was worth it, so I waited.”

“How? How did you just wait?”

He chuckles. “Fuck, man. I’m not really sure because it honestly about killed me. But I knew I had to give her the space she needed to figure out what she wanted, how she really felt about me. Luckily, in the end, everything worked out, but…”

I gulp. “I need to figure out how to move on if she doesn’t love me back.”

He nods solemnly, a grimace on his face.

I hate it, absolutely loathe the possibility that he could be right, that I might just have to accept that Scout will never feel the same way for me as I feel for her.

But…I don’t believe that’s true. I know her. I can read her easily. There’s no way this is a one-sided thing. She has feelings for me; I know it.

Maybe Wright is right. Maybe all she does need is time.

And I guess that’s what I’m going to have to give her.

“Can we circle back to that virgin thing and why the fuck Greer knew about it before us?” Rhodes asks, and we all laugh, the tension dissipating.

So, I tell them everything.

“Mr. Miller?”

I turn to find one of our security guards waiting for me in the parking garage. We just got out of a game we won no thanks to me. I haven’t been able to score in weeks. Can’t remember the last fucking time I shot a puck and it didn’t sail about three feet outside the goalie’s crease.

I’m off my game. The team knows it, and Coach knows it too. It looks bad, and if I keep this shit up, I’m screwed. I can tell Coach is about one game away from dropping my ice time, and I really don’t want to lose it. I might be sucking out there, but hockey is the only thing keeping me sane right now. I need the push, need the burn and the pain. I need something to keep me going because I’m really starting to feel like it’s hopeless to keep waiting on Scout.

“Hey, Dom. What’s up?”

“Someone dropped this off for you.” He holds a huge yellow envelope my way.

I look down at it then back at him. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” He shrugs. “I mean I opened it to make sure it wasn’t dangerous, but it’s just a bunch of pages with typing on them. I didn’t read them all, though,” he rushes out.

“Okay…” I say, taking the envelope from his outstretched palm. “Thanks,” I mutter.

“No problem. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

I stare at the heavy package the entire way to my car. Hell, I’m so preoccupied with it and what it could be, I even walk past my car.

When I get inside, I decide to wait to open it, tossing it onto my passenger seat and throwing the car in drive.

I make it two miles before I’m pulling off into a random lot. When I look up to see where I am, I laugh.

Of fucking course.

The dirty, ripped screen of the old drive-in taunts me…but not as much as the envelope.

I pick it up and tear it open. I know instantly what it is and who it’s from, and it makes my heart ache because I miss her.

It’s been almost a month since I saw her last, which is too damn long if you ask me.

Everyone’s getting ready for the Christmas break. They’re all fucking holly and jolly, and I’ve never felt more like the Grinch in my entire life. If you’d asked me last month what my Christmas plans were, I’d have said I was going to spend the holiday naked and wrapped up in Scout, but now I’m going to spend it alone, drowning in vodka and waiting.

I know I need to give her time like Wright said, but it’s hard as hell to stay away. I want to march up to her truck and tell her she’s wrong, tell her the thing between us wasn’t something meaningless—tell her it meant everything.

She means everything.

I told her that, though. She knows how I feel. So now, I wait.

And waiting fucking sucks.

I stare down at the stack of pages and the sticky note on top.

Grady,

This is the book I should have written.

This is how I feel about you.

Yours,

Scout

For a minute, I simply stare at the note, because I am, admittedly, scared. I’m terrified this is going to be her way of telling me to fuck off because she doesn’t feel the same as I do and she never will, her way of telling me I need to just move on and this really did mean nothing to her.

But then my eyes track down to her signature.

Yours.

Maybe…just maybe…I have a chance.

And so, I begin to read.