Oh man that's sweet, but it's also not necessary. "No way. I committed to you first and the celebration will be just as good on Friday as it would be tomorrow. So tonight I'm yours, tomorrow I sit in your seats at the game, and I'll be yours then too, then Friday you come and hang out with my new family."
Roman's eyebrows furrow and suddenly looks extremely uncomfortable. "Listen, Lexi...I don't think I should go on Friday."
"What?" I exclaim in confusion. "Why not?"
"That's a family thing," he says.
"So?" I say quickly. "It's a group thing and Brian, I mean Dad, explicitly invited you."
One of Roman's arms releases me and he scratches at the back of his buzzed haircut as he gives me an even more uncomfortable look.
"What's wrong?" I ask softly, bringing my palms to his cheeks.
His eyes drop from mine momentarily, but when they lift back up, I see resolve in them. "I don't feel comfortable, really, in that situation."
"Why not?" I ask perplexed, but then immediately it becomes clear to me. "Because of Gray?"
Roman shrugs. "Sort of."
"Well, it either is or isn't," I say, frustrated that he's making me pull this out of him. So I implore, "Just lay it on me, Roman. I'm a big girl and can handle it."
After letting out a big sigh, he brings his arms back around me and says softly, "Part of it's Gray. Things are just tense between us and I'm not sure it's a good idea for us to hang in a social setting. But also, I'm just uncomfortable with the whole family thing."
"The family thing?" I ask.
"This is a special moment for you, and on the best of days, I've never been a family type of guy. It's just foreign to me. I never had get-togethers or celebrations. I've always been sort of a solitary person. I do better in one-on-one situations, so try to think of it as my social game just really sucks in those situations. Add in the pressure that this is a really big deal, you finding your family and trying to establish a bond with them, I just don't feel comfortable with it. So if it's okay with you, I'd really like to pass on hanging out with everyone on Friday."
My stomach sinks with disappointment over Roman's words, and while I don't like them, I can understand them. I mean...I can at least try to understand where he's coming from.
Sort of.
Well, not really.
Family has just always been important to me. I didn't have a big family, but my mom and I were close. We did birthdays and Christmas and Halloween in style. We loved being with each other.
And now I've got that again here with Brian and Gray. The thought of spending an evening with them laughing and talking and getting to know each other better, to have them come out and support me while I'm singing...well, it just means everything to me.
But apparently, it doesn't really mean anything to Roman. Or rather, he might understand it, he just won't indulge in it because it takes him out of his comfort zone.
Still, we're early on in our relationship and I can totally see how it could be awkward for him. My hope is that as we progress, perhaps he'll get more comfortable with the situation, and maybe we can take baby steps. Like maybe I can have Brian over to my apartment for dinner and Roman can come to that.
I'm sure we can figure this out, and I'm also sure Roman will warm up to the idea eventually.
Chapter 21
Roman
"Asshole."
"Dickweed," I mutter back to Nick Shultz as we line up next to each other at the neutral zone face-off spot on the right.
"Anytime you want a go at me," he growls out of the side of his mouth, "all you have to do is drop the gloves."
I don't respond as the ref drops the puck and our captain, Alex Crossman, is able to reach it first, flicking it out to his right winger, Garrett Samuelson, and I take off after him as he streaks toward the Cardinals' goal.
The Cold Fury crowd erupts in a deafening roar of encouragement, and for no more than a second, I imagine Lexi on her feet, banging against the glass in her excitement. The few times I've glanced at her way during the game, she's been either clapping, cheering, or slapping her hands against the glass along with the other front-row fans. Of course, I only spared such glances at the beginning of a TV time-out or between periods, but never when there was live action on the ice.
Our team easily sets up our perimeter and I take my place hovering near the blue line just barely inside the neutral zone. A series of fast passes from Garrett to me--and I grit my teeth when Schultz whacks the back of my leg with his stick--then back to Alex, who winds up and takes a blistering shot at the net. Unfortunately, it ricochets off a Cardinal defenseman's stick and shoots into the safety net behind the goal, which causes the play to go dead.
As we skate to the face-off spot, Schultz bumps into me roughly and says, "That pretty little girl you keep making eyes with your woman, Sykora?"
I don't respond to him and I have to force myself not to look over at Lexi, who is no more than twenty feet from where I am right now on the other side of the glass. I'm pissed at myself that apparently Schultz has been watching me close enough to see me looking at Lexi, but then again, I didn't make it any secret she was mine as during warm-ups I went up to the glass and put my glove against it. She fist-bumped me from the other side and gave me a huge grin, yelling, "Kick ass, baby."
That had me skating away from the glass with a huge-ass grin on my face, and chances are Schultz saw that.
Nick Schultz and I have a volatile history. Both of us are defensemen, but not all defensemen are the same. You have offensive-minded ones who tend to handle the puck more but aren't as physical. Or you have defense-minded ones, which is what Schultz and I are, who are bruisers on the ice. We get very physical when protecting our teammates and the goal, and we don't venture out of our zones.
Unfortunately, when you have two opposing defensemen like us on the ice who have had some pretty big scuffles throughout our history of playing against each other, you can usually count on at least a major fight, if not something more nefarious.
But I know what Schultz is trying to do. He's trying to bait me into doing something stupid. It may be that he'll be satisfied with a bare-knuckle brawl, and that's fine. I'm always down for that. Or he may try to draw me into a stupid penalty, which we really can't afford right now, as we're up by only one goal.
"If she's not yours, maybe I'll have a go at her," Schultz says as he comes to line up beside me.
I bend over and get my stick poised and ready for Alex to take the drop. I ignore Schultz, because he can run his trap at me all day long and I won't jump. I've never been one you can bait with words, because they're nothing but noise that fades away as soon as they're spoken.
Besides, I've got a vested interest now to try to keep my cool. With Gray on my ass, and me now dating Gray's sister, it's going to be best if I can try to lie low for a bit. Doesn't mean I won't play tough, and doesn't mean I won't get in legitimate fights when called for, but I won't let my emotions get away from me and do something that could get me ejected or suspended.
At least that's my game plan for the immediate future.
In the tense few moments before the ref drops the puck, my body naturally tenses up, ready to burst forward, or backward, depending on where the puck goes.
It tenses further when Schultz mutters at me just as the ref lets the puck go, "I bet her pussy tastes sweet, right, Sykora?"
When the puck hits the ice, there's a clamor of sticks at it, and it's knocked free and right toward me. I battle Schultz for control of it, break it clean, and get a pass off to Garrett. He fakes left, weaves right, and puts it right on goal, and by right on goal I mean right into the Cardinal goalie's glove.
The whistle blows and play is stopped again, but this time there's an accompanying TV time-out as evidenced by the red light that's gone on inside the official's booth. It's near the end of my shift anyway, so we'll switch out with the next line.
I start a slow skate toward the bench while loud rock music is played thro
ughout the arena during the time-out. I tilt my head to the side to take a quick peek at Lexi, and I put the brakes on, coming to a dead stop.
It's almost like slow motion.
Lexi's standing at the glass, cheering along with the rest the crowd and clapping to the music. She's looking straight at me with a huge smile on her face, but I don't smile back. That's because I see Nick Schultz skating up to the glass. He comes to a stop, tapping his stick against the glass to get her attention, and her eyes slowly slide to his and then round with surprise to see him standing there.
The fucker drops his right glove, holds his hand up making a V between his index and middle finger, and then lewdly sticks his tongue in between it, wiggling obscenely. Forget he just did this in front of a little kid sitting right behind Lexi. Forget play is stopped and I should be heading to the bench.
Forget that Gray Brannon warned me about doing anything stupid.
Forget all that.
My blood pressure skyrockets and I feel a sensation of pinpricks all over my body, followed by the pure scorching heat of rage. Before I even think about what I'm doing, I burst across the ice at him, raising my stick at the same time. He doesn't even see me coming, which means he's blindsided when I cross-check him across his left shoulder with my stick, sending him crashing into the glass right where Lexi's standing.