Page 45 of Butterfly
“We don’t see eye to eye on things,” Oakley comments, sounding a million miles away. “We never have. You know that.”
“Yeah,” I concede, even though that feels like it barely scrapes the surface of whatever caused this massive rift between them. They used to at least be able to pretend to tolerate each other’s existence, but now? I wouldn’t put them in a room together and trust that both of them would end up alive and whole. “Shit seemed easier back then, huh?”
“Yeah,” Oakley says, with a slight laugh. “I guess so. I should get going, though. Gonna call my agent then hit the gym.”
We exchange goodbyes and end the call, leaving me sitting in my Jeep in the silence with my head too full of worries and thoughts that have no place to go. I know Oakley will handle the Kyle situation, but at the same time it eats at me that I can’t just be with my boyfriend out in public without the anxiety over being caught seeping in. I know Shiloh has said he doesn’t care, but a piece of me wonders if he secretly does. Or if he eventually will.
Fuck.
I hate hockey sometimes. Not the sport itself, but the culture around it. Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I’d walked away back when I was a kid and invested my time in something else. Building model trains or collecting Pokemon cards or some shit. I could have been a really great nerd instead of this hockey jock I turned into. At least then I’d be able to walk out of the closet and say who I really am instead of hiding it behind a perfectly painted mask and a set of pads.
At least then nobody would be able to snap a picture of me holding hands with the man I’m dating and use it as blackmail to get what he wants.
I sigh as I put the Jeep into drive and make my way to the mouth of the parking lot to sign autographs for fans who might not actually want my signature if they knew who I really was.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SHILOH
“What the fuck is a call up?”I spit out the words like they’re trying to insult me. They kind of are. Since our date, I’ve gotten very accustomed to Donovan being within arm’s reach. We both have busy schedules, but somehow we’ve managed to spend most of our free time over the past two weeks together. And whether he knows that I’m watching him or not, he’s pretty much been the center of my focus since he decided he wanted to keep me.
It’s a good thing he came to that conclusion—stalking is fun, but it can get lonely when the other person never knows you’re there.
“It won’t be that long,” he responds, his fingers gentle as they thread through my hair. He leans in, pressing his lips to mine like he can kiss away the scowl that I know I’m wearing. Or maybe he just likes kissing me. When his arm slides around my waist and he yanks me to him, reminding me how strong he is when he easily pulls me onto his lap, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
My head drops after a moment, and I hide my frown against his throat.
“How long isnot that long?”
He hesitates then sighs. “Could be a few days? I fly out to Florida tonight and the game is tomorrow. If Tobin is cleared to play, I’ll be on a plane home again the morning after the game.”
“Too long,” I grumble, setting my teeth against his neck and biting down. If he’s going to be gone so far that I can’t reach him, he needs to at least have some kind of permanent mark on his body to prove to everyone else that he’s mine.
Mine.
I never thought I’d want a person to bemine, but it’s the only thing I can think of with Donovan. Which is exactly why I hate it when he pulls back with a laugh, practically peeling me from him like a second skin.
“I’ll be back soon, okay?” And then with a little bit of a side eye, he continues. “I know you’re probably going to break into my apartment while I’m gone.”
“Yes, and?” At least we’re honest.
“Why don’t you just stay there instead? It’s close to your school and you won’t get caught out going back and forth.” There’s a flash where there’s something like worry in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it came. “Besides…” That grin comes back, and it’s all warmth and heat. “I like the thought of you in my bed while I’m gone.”
I have a million things to do. I have a class to sit in on at the Helping Hearts Youth Center, I have to get more art up on my website, I have classwork… and…
“Okay.”
That’s not the right answer, but the smile that streaks across his face makes me realize it’s the only one I was ever going to be able to give.
“I may not see the ice, I’m just going to be backing up their usual backup goalie, but…. will you watch me play, California?” He ducks his head and whispers that silly nickname against mylips, and I nod helplessly. It’s not like I need to go out and kill someone so I can get a fresh stock of paint or anything. It’s not like Donovan being out of town would be the perfect opportunity for me to do it without him questioning my absence.
“Yeah, I’ll watch you play.”
“Good.” He presses another quick peck to my lips and then steps back. “I’m going to be wearing your artwork, after all.”
That thought pulls me up short. Donovan is going to be wearing the mask I painted for him for more than just an arena.
On television.
