Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (28 page)

CASSIE

You know the old saying if it seems too good to be true then it probably is...

Well, things
were
great. Really,
really
great.

Our time in Chicago had a profound effect on me. It changed me. Changed the way I look at us. I know that I'm in love with him. And I'm almost certain he loves me too.

From the moment we met I've had a crush on him. Over time that crush turned to longing. We've spent so much time together. I never questioned when the feelings I'd been harboring began to take root. I knew early on he felt something for me, and I suspected it was something much deeper than he was willing to admit. In a way, we've constructed our own twisted puzzle, pieced together with so many truths and lies neither of us seem to notice those pieces, however jagged their edges, fit together perfectly.

Life got pretty busy for both of us after returning to Ann Arbor. I'm busy studying for finals. I've memorized most of the chapters covered in my psych lecture, and thanks to my private tutor, I'm fairly certain I'll pass calculus with a solid B-. Just last week, I started working on a new song with Mitch, the guy from my composition class, so we've been spending a lot of time in a rehearsal room.

Hockey and school have always kept Brantley busy, but two weeks ago, he picked up a part-time job bussing tables at a restaurant downtown to earn extra money for Christmas. That means if I want to see him on the days we can't hang out, I have to jump on a bus and finish my homework while the team practices. After Thanksgiving, Roni severed all ties with Josh, claiming a certain hockey player had caught her eye, so she often joins me. We huddle under a blanket and try our best to focus on our assignments, but once the guys take the ice, it's pretty hard to focus on anything else.

Last weekend he had a night off, so we went out and bought a Christmas tree. Then, we took it back to his place and decorated it with supplies we'd picked up at Target. Jordan and Davis wanted to help, so I gave them the task of stringing the lights after Brantley spent thirty minutes making sure the tree was perfectly straight. We each took turns hanging ornaments, making sure to fill every available branch, and when we were finished we turned off the lights and sat on the floor to enjoy its beauty. Scotty came home with a pizza, and the five of us talked for hours, sharing our favorite childhood memories of Christmas mornings.

Tonight I'm alone as I approach the arena. My Chucks scuff quickly over the concrete in my haste to escape the cold outdoors, only to immediately subject myself to the frigid temperature inside the rink. I tried telling myself I should stay home tonight, but we've barely spoken this week, and I can't shake the feeling he's hiding something from me.

The guys are on the ice, and practice appears to be in full swing. I scan the jerseys, searching for #27, and when I find him, my heart swells. I love watching him skate. Love the way he looks in his practice jersey. He glides gracefully over the ice. His fluid movements transport him from one end of the ice to the other in no time at all. That same sexy confidence I see in the bedroom carries over to his performance as a player. I stand behind a wall of wood and plexiglass, transfixed by the man before me. He's covered in gear, but I know every inch of the gorgeous body hidden beneath it by heart. I've memorized every line, every muscle, every vein. I know what makes him shudder, and I know how to make him moan. He could just as easily make the same statement about me. He knows me better than I even know myself. That's why the physical distance is tearing me apart. But it's not just sex that I miss. I miss they way we used to be. The way we were before sex.

I miss us.

Practice is about to wrap up, and at this point, the guys are running simple skate-and-shoot drills against the freshmen players, which are ridiculously unbalanced. It's hardly fair to put a freshmen player up against someone of Davis' or Brantley's caliber; those two dominate when they're on the ice. He looks over to where I'm standing and acknowledges me with a tip of his chin and a wink. When it's his turn, he kicks off with his skate and weaves side to side, maneuvering the puck with ease, and when he reaches the end, he draws his arm back and sends the puck flying into the net. When he skates past a group of bunnies, I notice the way he acknowledges them, but when he reaches the section where I'm standing, he lifts his glove and blows me a kiss on his way to the locker room. My heart leaps with joy at the simple gesture, because it tells me he still cares.

Once practice is over, I hang around until the guys have had their showers, and hide in a darkened corner to watch as everyone exits the locker room. Everyone except Brantley. Once I know the coast is clear, I tentatively enter the room and search for him. There's a long hall with two rooms on the left. One is a meeting area where they watch footage of their games, and study their opponents. The other is an office I assume belongs to Coach Bishop. On the right, the hall opens to a large area lined with lockers and benches for the players. This area leads to the shower room. I don't find him in the locker room, so I can only assume he's still in the shower, or maybe he's already left and I just missed seeing him.

As I approach I hear running water and a voice. His voice. I stop and toe my shoes off before entering the steamy room. From where I stand, I can see him. His back is to me, and his hands are braced against the tile. Water runs over his back and he's speaking softly, either to himself or someone else. At this point, I'm not sure. I brace myself for the worst and bridge the distance between us. Sensing he's no longer alone, he turns his head and looks surprised to see me.

"Cassie, what are you doing back here?" He frowns.

His question offends me, and when he doesn't make a move toward me I step into the stall with him.

"Why do you think I'm here? I was worried about you. About us. We hardly see each other anymore."

"I'm fine. I told you, I've been really busy." He scrubs a hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"You've been in here a really long time. And when I came in, you were talking to yourself. Is there something going on you're not telling me?" My fists clench at my sides in frustration, because I don't know if I should be angry or confused. The shaky feeling in my legs tells me it's something worse.

I'm terrified.

"I've got a few things on my mind I need to mull over, and I wanted to do it
alone
," he snaps, and I tense at the harshness in his voice.

Okay. This conversation is going nowhere fast. Guess I'll have to be more direct. I pull myself up to my full height, though he still towers over me, and step under the water with him. Fully clothed.

"Are you crazy?" he yells, just as I blurt out, "Are you dumping me?"

He stops and stares as rivulets of water stream down my face. He moves me back a half-step, so I'm no longer drowning, and rests his hands on my elbows. His face registers confusion, and I don't really blame him. We aren't dating. We're not a couple. Hell, we're not even in a relationship. And we sure as hell haven't said the unspoken L-word. Bottom line— I'm not sure what we are anymore.

"Baby, no." He folds me in his arms as he rocks me back and forth under the spray. "I'm not dumping you. How can you even think that? From the moment we met, you've consumed me." His voice softens as he cups my face in his strong hands.

"Because I miss you, B. Because I need you." My voice breaks as the words get stuck in my throat. "And I thought..." I look down and see my hands are shaking. I'm in a steamy room, with hot water beating down on me, yet I can't stop shivering.

"Believe me when I tell you, there's no one else on this earth worth thinking about. I'm just dealing with shit only I can fix." He lowers his face to mine before continuing. "I told you, I'm messed up. There are things happening between us, and I just wasn't prepared for it. I'm trying to figure out what it all means." His thumb traces the curve of my lip as he studies my expression. "Now, what else were you going to say?"

"What do you mean?" I blink up at him in confusion.

"You said you
thought
something. What was it?" his lips brush mine in a tender kiss as he waits for my answer.

"I was going to say that I thought you needed me too." It's a good thing he's close, because I've whispered the words so softly even I barely hear them.

His body sags against mine. "That's the problem, Dimples. I'm scared I may need you too much."

No other words are spoken. Instead, we close our eyes and kiss until we forget about everything else. We kiss the way we did the first time we met.

Before rules and promises were broken.

Before lies were told.

Back when things were simple.

Back when we were
just
friends.

Back when we were still
us
.

And it was perfect. Except for one small problem.

When I open my eyes, I'm still in love with him.

BRANTLEY

"There's no denying their lines are strong this year," Jordan announces as the waitress places our drinks on the table. "I've watched the footage of their last four games, and McFarland scored three goals in one game alone, not to mention the goals and assists he racked up in the other three games."

I look around the table and realize how much I've missed these guys. It's been a long time since the four of us stopped for a beer after practice. After talking about Scott's love life and teasing Jordan over his lack of one, the topic has naturally switched to hockey. More specifically, the game scheduled against Minnesota after we return from Christmas break.

"Yeah, we're going to have to tighten up that second line if we want any chance of taking away a win. Let's talk with Coach about getting in some extra ice time before we take off this week. Cage, why don't you see if Taylor's willing to push the D-men harder in practice?" Rivers tosses out sarcastically. There's no denying our last two losses were because we've been weak in the defensive zone. I'm not solely responsible for our poor performance on the ice, but when you tack on the fact I'm sleeping with his sister, it only adds to the guilt I'm already carrying.

"Let's not forget their goalie is a strong contender for the Richter Award. His stats are pretty stellar, so if we want any hope of scoring, we'll have to attack hard," Davis reminds us.

"Spiker may be good, but Rivers has been solid in the crease this season. He's averaged twenty-eight saves per game, and he's also a contender. If you ask me, I think he'll be the one to take it." I tip my beer in Scott's direction. He offers a nod of thanks, but doesn't let the praise go to his head. Like the rest of us, he's played the game long enough to know anything can happen, and if you're not careful, the direction your career was taking can suddenly veer off path and it would all end in the blink of an eye.

"Hey, what time are you guys heading out tomorrow?" I ask casually. Jordan scored tickets for the Kid Rock concert tomorrow night in Cincinnati. Ashley is also going, which comes as no surprise, but it works in their favor because her family lives in Cincinnati and they plan on getting hammered and spending the night at their house.

"Charger's pulling out at three, and there's room for your sexy ass if you've changed your mind," Rivers replies, making sure to toss in a cheeky wink at the end.

While a part of me would love to go along for the ride, I'd already told them I couldn't because I had to work at the restaurant. But that's a lie. I don't have to work. Cassie's coming over to watch a movie and celebrate Christmas before we both head back home for break.

When we left Chicago, I'd known things between us had shifted. It spooked me, because I'm not sure either of us is ready to admit our true feelings. Cassie's not ready for Scott to find out about us. And honestly, neither am I. The guilt I've been carrying is a heavy burden, but it doesn't change the way I feel about her. I'm not going to lie, the last few weeks have been rough, but we're both trying to work through it. Cassie says she wants to get through Christmas and then come clean about our relationship.

Cause that's what this is...

A relationship.

I'm still not sure how it happened. Me letting her in. I've been running from love for so long, I figured if I kept wasting time with girls who were forgettable, it would never catch up with me. So, I've spent the last four years using casual sex as a shield, secretly believing it would protect my heart from further damage.

And then I met her...

Cassie isn't like all the other girls. And there's nothing forgettable about her.

She came into my life like a sudden downpour. Showering me with love and hope when I'd least expected it. But exactly when I'd needed her the most.

Tonight, she's hanging out with her roommate and some guy named Mitch from her music class. They've been working on a project together these last few weeks, and claimed they needed a break from the monotony of the rehearsal room.

"Thanks, but I have to work at four. I'll be there till closing. But have a good time and try to stay out of trouble." I'm looking at Davis when I say this, because he always seems to get himself in a bind whenever we're out. I blame it on his charming good looks, but Rivers says it's because he runs his mouth too much.

"Hey, you can't have fun without finding a little trouble. The two go hand-in-hand. Ain't that right, Cage?" Davis retorts. I look over and scowl and that fucker has the nerve to wink at me!

Cocky son of a bitch.

"God, would somebody please kill me so I don't have to endure another Kelly Clarkson wannabe," Rivers beats his forehead on the table. We all look toward the stage, where a blond is doing her best to keep up with the lyrics on the screen, but she still sounds like a dying hyena. "How the hell did we forget it was karaoke night?"

"Aw, come on, it's not so bad. That chick who sang Katy Perry was smokin' hot," Davis smiles wickedly. "She even gave me her phone number."