Garrett (Cold Fury Hockey 2)

"I have cancer," I told him, my voice wobbly and foreign-sounding.

Then I collapsed into a puddle of snotty tears, right on the floor. Stevie immediately jumped into action, throwing the CLOSED sign on the door and locking it. He whipped his iPhone out and called Sutton. I could hear him murmuring urgently to her for a few minutes, and then he was sitting on the floor with me and hugging me tight while I cried.

Sutton arrived in thirty minutes flat, which meant she had to have been breaking the sound barrier on the highway. By then Stevie had me off the floor and had brought me back into his office and gently lowered me into his big, cushy chair behind his desk, then promptly plied me with hot herbal tea.

I recounted to them as best I could what I had been told so far, which was practically nothing. Stevie and Sutton were amazing...going above and beyond to bolster my confidence and reinvigorate my strength. Not a one of us knew what the future held for me, because we were sorely lacking in information at that point, but by the time they got done with me two hours later, I was convinced that I was going to whip this cancer's ass straight into the depths of hell.

And for the next few days, I tried to push this ominous news to the back of my mind and not obsess too much about it. Which was practically impossible. Sutton even invited me over to the Cold Fury party, and whereas I'm usually content to stay at home and immerse myself in a good book, for some reason I felt the urgent need to get out and do something. To prove to myself that I still had a whole lot of living to do.

So I met Sutton and Alex over at the coach's house in North Raleigh, and for the brief time I was there I had a lot of fun. Granted, my time was short, and granted, the fun that was had was in sparring verbally and flirting with Garrett Samuelson, but fun all the same.

Not just fun. Scintillating banter. Thrilling flirtation.

Damn, but Garrett is absolutely and devastatingly gorgeous. Of course, I'd heard enough about him from Sutton and Alex to know that he was not someone you gave your heart to, but I couldn't deny the animal magnetism that threatened to pull me in. Even though I repeatedly denied his advances, every time my mouth opened up to say "No," my body was screaming at me to say "Yes." My brain was also chiming in, telling me that I needed to live life to the fullest...while I still had time, and to take advantage of a supremely attractive man wanting to have some mind-blowing sex.

Still, my common sense prevailed, but I'm not sure how much longer it would have had the fortitude to hold out. Had Sutton not come up and practically chased Garrett away from me, I have a feeling I would have capitulated, because my mind was all kinds of fucked up and twisted over the terrible thoughts that kept circulating through me.

But then I got the phone call from the oncologist's office, offering me an early-morning appointment for the next day, and the reality of my world came crashing back down around me again. While I didn't necessarily have to leave because it was late, I suddenly didn't feel like being social anymore, and these bright, vibrant people surrounding me were a painful reminder of all I stood to lose.

"So, how was the party?" Stevie asks as he pulls out a large foam block circle mounted to a wire frame. He's obviously going to work on a funeral arrangement, and I'm glad he took that order. I'm not as good at them as he is, as they require precision and balance. I do much better with the free-flowing types of arrangements.

"It was good," I tell him, smiling internally over my conversation with Garrett.

"What?" Stevie exclaims. "What's that look on your face?"

I blink at him in surprise as I wipe down the table so I can prepare to work on the next arrangement. "What look?"

"That little secretive, maybe even a little bit sensual, look on your face."

"You're crazy. Batshit crazy, in fact," I scoff at him, even as my cheeks heat a little.

"Oh, hell, no," Stevie says as he pushes the foam block farther back on the table before lunging at me. Grabbing my hands in his, he pulls me back over to my stool and pushes me down onto it. He then hops on the other stool across from me, crosses one leg over the other, and clasps his hands together. Looking at me expectantly, he says, "Dish. You have something juicy to tell, and you better spill every bit of it to me."

I grin. His mood for some scintillating gossip excites me and expels all my troubles out of my head momentarily. I'll take the reprieve.

"Okay," I say conspiratorially. "So, I met one of the Cold Fury players and we ended up having quite the conversation."

"How so?" Stevie asks, his eyes twinkling.

"He just approached me and told me some crap about how beautiful I was, and that it wasn't a cheesy pickup line, but oh, God...it was so cheesy and completely a pickup line."

"Is he hot?"

"Beyond hot," I tell him while nodding. "He's got dark brown hair that's pretty long...about near his chin, but it's cut in like these choppy layers."

Stevie closes his eyes and sighs at the fantasy I'm painting.

"And the most amazing green eyes. Really light and reflective. Oh, and he's tall, and you can tell he's really muscular. He's just a really beautiful man."

"I'm dying just imagining," Stevie practically squeals. "So...when are you going out?"

The grin I had been sporting as I described Garrett melts off my face. "We're not. I turned him down."

"You what?" Stevie practically shrieks. "Are you crazy? You haven't had a date since before Moses was born and now you're being chased after by a freakin' hot hockey player. Please tell me you're joking."

I sniff with offense. "He's just wanting to get into my panties. He doesn't want anything serious."

"And?" Stevie drawls. "What's wrong with that?"

I open my mouth to tell him exactly what's wrong with that, but nothing comes out. My mind whirls and I try to think back to what I was feeling when he asked me out. Warmth, excitement, maybe even a little desire. All good feelings, no doubt. So why in the hell did I say no?

"And don't give me that shit about being morally opposed to casual sex," Stevie says before I can even think of that excuse.

"I'm not morally opposed to it," I mutter. "I'm just not that type of person."

I absolutely am not. Never have been. All my sexual experiences have been the products of long-term and trusting relationships.

Stevie rolls his eyes at me. "Why typecast yourself, Olivia? There's nothing wrong with giving in to your desires. As long as you are both consenting adults, you're safe, and you have realistic expectations, tell me where is the downside?"

Snorting, I cock an eyebrow at him. "You make it all sound so simple, especially when nothing in my life is simple anymore."

"It is simple," he asserts. "Maybe something simple was put before you because you need simple. Damn if you don't have a hell of a lot of complicated right now. So, the way I see it...simple is good. Not to mention...he sounds like the perfect diversion."

I've never been one for thrills or excitement. Adrenaline rushes make me nauseated and the unknown makes me break out in hives. I've always loved the quiet and surety.

But now that I'm facing a potentially limited lifespan, I have to wonder if I'm missing out on something. If this disease kills me, will I have any regrets about turning my nose up at opportunity? Even if the opportunity is scary and daunting but potentially thrilling to the bone?

"So, what you're saying is I should just go out and have some wild monkey sex with a complete stranger?"

Stevie rolls his eyes at me and swats my leg. "That's a good place to start, but I think you know what I'm saying. Seize your life by the horns. What better time to do it than now? And not just with wild monkey sex. You're getting ready to go into battle, honey, and you need to suit up with armor and get ready to kick some ass."

I chew my bottom lip, considering what he's saying.

"But," Stevie adds on with seriousness, "I do believe a sweaty, naked night with a hot hockey player is the perfect place to start."

Maybe he's right. Maybe I need to break out of my

comfort zone and really start living my life as if every day is my last. Because frankly...that could be a true statement.

Unfortunately, I think the opportunity with Garrett has passed. I turned him down flatly, and I'll never see him again. And there's no way I'm going to Sutton and asking her to hook me up with Alex's bestie. She'd never understand me turning into a wanton hussy.

No, that ship has sailed, but I do think I'll take Stevie's advice and start opening myself up to further opportunities that will be coming my way. Because I'm not going down without a fight, and if I do go down, I don't want there to be any regrets.

Chapter 3

Garrett

Coach blows the whistle and we take off. Alex has the puck at center ice as I streak down the left side, and our other first line forward, Kel Borden, mirrors me on the right. Alex gently taps the puck back and forth with his stick while his eyes stay pinned on the goalie, Thomas Erickson. He closes in...straight down the center, but Thomas spreads his body wide, his hulking frame taking up too damn much of the net. Alex winds back for a quick slap shot, but at the last minute shoots a quick-but-subtle pass my way. Even as his blade just kisses the puck goodbye, I'm winding my stick back, intent on taking my own blistering shot at the goal. At the last second, I see Kel close in from the right as Thomas turns his full attention to me. Rather than let my cannon blast go, I give a soft flick against the puck and shoot it center-ice to Kel.

Thomas dives back center, but Kel is already tapping the puck in through the five hole for the score. There aren't any rousing cheers and no one throws their hands up in victory over the goal. That's because this isn't a game, but rather our first practice session of the season, and we're just doing drills. Basic stuff to get warmed up and acclimated to the ice.

Hitting his goalie stick to the ice in frustration, Thomas mutters, "Great job." Kel taps his stick lightly against Thomas's calf in acknowledgment and we all skate back to the other end of the ice while the next set of three gets ready to go.

I come to a halt next to Alex, resting my hands at the top of my stick as I let the blade rest on the ice. "Want to go grab some lunch when we're done?"

"Sure," Alex says as he watches the next drill. "Sutton's meeting Olivia for lunch, so I'm free."