Wait. What?
He must have noticed the confusion on her face, because he dropped one more kiss on her mouth and nuzzled her neck. “It’s my Friday night men’s league. Hockey.”
“Oh, I guess I forgot.” How could she forget something she didn’t know? And why was that exactly? Dumb rhetorical question. Because of the no-talking thing.
He stared down at her, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “I can stay if you want me to. Might hear it from the guys—Lord knows they like to chirp—but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“No.” She shook her head and patted his chest, before reaching up and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. She wasn’t going to be that girl. The clingy, insecure, needy girl.
“Go. Have fun with your team. I’ll just…watch a movie or something.”
“You sure?”
“Go.”
He scooped up his hockey gear and, with a lopsided smile, left her alone in his house.
She listened to the rumble of his truck until it died and the
n Grace wandered back to the kitchen. She stared at the stew on the stove, at the basket of buns on the table, and at the two wine glasses along with the open bottle of red. Wow. When had she gotten so domesticated?
She stared at them for a long time—long enough for her eyes to smart once more from hot, unshed tears.
“It’s just a hockey game,” she muttered.
But he could have asked me to come watch. He could have taken me along, introduced me to his friends.
He could have. But he didn’t.
18
Matt rolled into the Roadside Grill along with several of his teammates. It was nearly ten and the boys were raring to go—but not Matt. He was here out of habit really, just going through the motions. He sidled up to the bar and ordered a draft.
“Heard you boys lost bad,” Duke said with a grin. His long, handlebar moustache quivered as he slid a mug over to Matt.
“Yeah well, that’s what happens when one of your best forwards doesn’t have his head in the game.”
Matt glared at Seth Longwood. The guy might be an idiot, but he was right. Matt had been distracted for most of the game. He’d drawn penalties that had hurt his team, and then he’d gone and got himself kicked out after he nailed Jamie Dollar from behind. It was a stupid thing to do—the guy had chirped him and Matt’s temper had gotten the best of him.
“It’s just one game,” Duke said, tossing his towel over his shoulder before moving down the bar to fill orders.
Matt stared down at the mug of beer. He grabbed it up and then set it down on the counter. Hell, he didn’t feel like beer. He didn’t feel like this place or the damn music that was blaring either.
He frowned and settled back onto the barstool, drawing out his cellphone and scrolling through his messages. There were two from Betty, both scolding him for not getting back to her previous messages from the day before. She’d flown back to New Orleans with Beau after the fundraiser, and he hadn’t talked to her since.
He wasn’t winning any friend-of-the-year awards, that’s for sure. But Betty never shied away from the tough questions and the last time they’d talked, she was all up in his business—and it was all about Grace.
He scrolled further. Nothing from Grace.
“You okay?”
Logan Forest slid onto the stool beside him. “Heard you had a bad game.”
“You heard right.” Matt frowned. “Where’s Billie? Didn’t you guys have a game on the other pad?”
He nodded. “We did. She’s not…she’s um…” Logan’s face split open in a wide grin and he swore. “Hell, I know she told her sisters today so I’m pretty sure by Sunday the whole damn town will know. She’s pregnant.”
Matt whistled and shook Logan’s hand. He slapped him on the back and ordered them each a shot.