Page 68 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“You didn’t wait for me after the game,” he says, not bothering to keep the answering accusation from his voice. And not smiling, not even a little bit.
“No can do. There are to be no more Harper and Maddox sightings in public for the duration,” I say, trying to keep it light, which is not my area of expertise.
“That’s fucked-up for a handler,” he says.
“I’ll leave if you want me to. I think I’m more of a liability than a help to your reputation at this point.”
“No, you’re not.” He pushes his hands through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m in a foul mood. Not sure if you noticed, but I suck at hockey right now.” I snort a laugh. “You can’t leave. Imagine what would happen to my game if you left?”
I smile with relief that he’s joking with me even if he is blaming me for his poor play. But I know the real problem. He’s coming face-to-face with his distorted self-image and trying to reconcile the damaged man with the hockey star and it’s causing massive self-doubt.
The more he throws himself on his sword, believing he’s not good enough for me because he’s damaged, the more that self-image is going to eat away at his confidence.
And yet, he wants to prolong what he thinks of as the inevitable end of our relationship.
I, on the other hand, need to prolong our relationship because I need to change his mind, somehow prove to him that he’s important to me, lovable enough all by himself, without children, or maybe with adopted children in his future.
Can I just tell him all this? Sure, but it’ll fall on deaf ears.
I need to prove it with action, by doing something big because I know words aren’t enough. I’ve already told him I love him and I’m not sure he believes me. Or maybe he doesn’t understand exactly what it means.
So I need to show him.
“I’ll stay. I want to stay, Maddox. I only offered to leave because of…” I wave my hands.
“Good.” He smiles, but the crinkles don’t show around his eyes. And he says nothing else, like he doesn’t know how to talk to me anymore.
“In the meantime you need to work on your game,” I say, smirking.
“Thanks a lot, St. John. Way to kick a guy when he’s down.”
“You? Down? Never.” I smile, willing him to smile back, for real. He gives me a smirk and I feel the crackle between us change, some of the knotty tension giving way to the sensual kind, making my belly flip. When the dimple shows in his smirk, it’s official and I score myself a point.
I probably need a hundred more to make a dent in his belief that he’s damaged goods and not worthy of a committed relationship, but it’s my new mission to do it. And be damned with the consequences.
“Good night,” Maddox,” I force myself to say. His disappointment is instant. Sex would be so easy, but it won’t solve anything. More sex, based on our experience so far, will only ratchet up the tension, make it harder to sort through feelings and our relationship.
Tonight will be anything but a good night because I can sense some restless dreams coming on.
“Good night, Harper.” He retreats to his room looking defeated and it takes every ounce of willpower in me not to follow him.
* * *
After the media kerfuffle, as Delaney put it, and my interview showed on national sports news, my mother calls. Of course she’s been following the Brawlers since I’ve been in Boston. I’m sitting at the kitchen island in front of my computer because I’ve adopted the kitchen as my office space.
“What’s going on up there, sweetheart? Anything a mom should know about?”
“Yeah,” my brother pipes in, because of course he’s in the background like he always is when he’s not playing hockey. “What’s up with you and Maddox freaking Knight?” I blow out an exasperated breath because even though I’d love to unload the whole story on Mom and cry on her shoulder like I was fifteen years old again, I’m supposed to be her adult child and I don’t think my brother Charlie is ready for adult-level problems when he’s still trying to solve who to bring to the senior prom.
“Everything is fine. It’s all a business arrangement and you know what gossip sports celebrities can generate. I just got caught in the crosshairs.”
“Mmhmm. Well, if it’s just the same to you, I think it’s time Charlie and I came up for a visit. He has no games on Friday, so we can drive up after school and we can make the Brawlers game. If you think you can get us tickets.”
“Of course, Mom. I’ll get you tickets and a hotel. It’ll be fun. I miss you guys.”
“Then it’s a plan. Shoot me the address in a text and we’ll see you Friday.”
We end the call withlove yousall around and I feel lighter, not realizing how much I’ve missed Mom and Charlie. I usually drive up to New Rochelle to see them every week or so from the city, but they’re four hours away from Boston.
