Nash put his hands on my shoulders and spoke in a level tone. “You don’t need to say anything to us, Lars. We’re your teammates. We’ve got your back, same as before. Just go out there and play. You’re the same person you were the day before that article came out. Nothing has changed.”
I hung my head. “I am…the things that are true about autism…I am some of those things.”
“So what? One of my best friends in high school had a brother with autism. He just processed things differently. It’s not that big of a deal, man.”
“Was he like me?”
Nash shrugged. “He was quiet. A little awkward. But a good dude, and I consider him a close friend.”
“I know I am different, but…”
“Hey. You’re you. You’re Lars Jansson, a pro hockey player who looks like Thor and gets more ass than a toilet seat. Trust me, lots of guys would kill to be you.”
“I like Sheridan,” I admitted. “She knows about the article.”
“So what? If she deserves you, she’ll feel the same way about it that your teammates do. It changes nothing.”
“But what if there is something I can do to be normal? There is no medicine for autism, but what if—”
“Dude, listen. You need to talk to a therapist about all this. My sister’s a therapist. I’ll ask her for a recommendation.”
“They can help me get better?”
“They can help you understand how you’re feeling about everything. But you don’t need to get better, man. You’re a great guy, just as you are.”
“I am…awkward.”
“Yeah, so? You must be doing something right; you’re dating a supermodel.”
I nodded. “I just want everything to be like it was before. When you called me an asshole.”
“Oh, you’re still an asshole. Like I said, nothing’s changed.”
He grinned at me, and despite the dread I still felt in the pit of my stomach, I smiled back.
“Great game!” Sheridan beamed at me as I approached her after the game.
I’d just walked into the family suite with a few teammates, all of us freshly showered and dressed in suits. We’d won the game 3–2, and Sheridan had been the first thing on my mind when it ended.
“Thanks,” I said, putting a hand on her hip and leaning down to kiss her.
She gave me a sexy smile, reaching up to touch the end of a lock of my hair. “This damp hair and suit thing is working for me, Mr. Jansson.”
“Is it?” I gazed into the ever-changing color of her hazel eyes, my heart pounding with excitement.
“I may need to bring you home with me after we go out.”
I shifted, uncomfortable.
“What?” she asked.
“Would it be okay if we don’t go out?”
Her eyes brightened. “Even better.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. I’d love to spend some time alone with you.”
There was no pity in her eyes. The only thing I saw when Sheridan looked at me was a sexy gleam, and she hadn’t looked at anything but me since I walked in the room.
“My place this time,” I said.
She hesitated a moment before saying, “Sure. I’ll just need to send Flynn your address so he can take the proper security measures and take me home in the morning. That is, if you want me to stay the night?”
“I do, and tell Flynn whatever you want, but I will take you home tomorrow and anyone who tries to bother you at my place will have to get through me first.”
She tilted up and I leaned down. We met in the middle for a kiss.
“Get a room, you two,” Wes said in a joking tone. “You guys want to ride with us?”
“We are going home instead,” I said.
Sheridan and I both turned to face Wes and Hadley, and I put my arm around her waist, sliding my hand down to the ass I’d never be able to get enough of.
“You guys suck,” Wes said, rolling his eyes. “We’re the ones who have to get up with our kids in the morning, but you don’t see us pussing out.”
“See you in the morning,” I said, not wanting to waste any more time.
Sheridan said goodbye to Hadley and the other wives and girlfriends that she knew, and we made our way toward my SUV.
“I have to stop for food,” I told her.
“Sure. Where are you thinking?”
“Taco Hut.”
“Yeah, a taco sounds good.”
“I will be eating ten.”
She gasped and turned to look at me. “Are you serious? Ten tacos?”
I nodded. “Also, two orders of rice and beans. Games make me hungry.”
“I’m not judging. You do you.”
I gave her a warning look as we approached the arena’s exit doors, taking her hand.
“There will be photographers,” I said. “Maybe I should call security to help.”
“Or we could make a run for it.”
I looked down at her high-heeled boots. “You can run in those?”
“Hang on.” She put a hand on my arm for balance and reached down to unzip one boot, then the other.