Page 93 of Securing the Pucking Rebound
No. That’s crazy. I can’t do that.
Can I?
“I hate the thought of you being home alone tomorrow.”
“It’s just another Thursday. It doesn’t have to be anything if you don’t want it to be.”
“What do you do at Christmas?”
My hand lifts to rub the back of my neck as I lie back down.
“Uh…”
“Calvin.” She sighs. “Are you really not welcome at home?”
“My parents invite me every year. Not being invited isn’t the problem. It’s the shit that’ll come with it.”
She holds my eyes, begging me to open up.
“When I woke up from surgery after my injury, I had a voicemail from my mom. Of course, she was concerned about me, she’s my mom after all. But once she was confident that I was okay, do you know what her first comment was?” I don’t bother waiting for an answer; I wasn’t expecting one. “She wanted to know when I was coming home now that my career was over.”
Sienna’s breath catches. “You’ve torn your ACL, not lost your leg.”
“Even still. There are plenty of players who play handicapped. The things they can do with prosthetics now is incredible. They just don’t get it, and they’ve already refused to hear a word of what I want. My destiny wasn’t to stay in my family home and take over the business. It’s just not me. Even if I’m forced to stop playing—”
“Which won’t happen,” she interrupts.
“One day it will. But hockey is my life. I won’t go back even when my playing career is over. They just refuse to hear it, and whenever I’ve been back there, all they do is try to convince me to stay. It’s exhausting.”
“I can imagine.”
“It’s better for everyone if I just stay away and let them get on with things without me.”
“I’m sorry they treat you like that.”
I shrug, because there’s fuck all I can do about it.
Thankfully, Sienna changes the subject, and we spend a few minutes discussing tonight’s game before she begins yawning.
“I should let you go,” I say reluctantly. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I can hardly keep her up all night talking to me. “Thank you for giving me a bedroom tour.”
“I haven’t seen yours yet,” she says sleepily.
“Jesus, Sienna,” I grunt, my cock swelling as if she could appear and demand to go to my bedroom any second.
“Sorry, I— I just…You’ve spent loads of time in my apartment, and I’ve only ever seen your front door.”
“You clamoring for an invite, darlin’?”
“Just curious, I guess. Is your place a bachelor pad?”
“I guess you’ll find out when I bring you up here.”
Her eyes darken, making me wish I were there and able to kiss her.
“I can’t wait.”
Me either.
