Maverick (Sin City Saints Hockey 1)
“Listen, if you decide this isn’t working out, just let me know,” I tell him. “At any time.”
He furrows his brow. “Why wouldn’t it work out? There’s lots of room here. We’ll be fine.”
“I promise to keep the guest list for the parties I throw under a hundred people. And I’ll keep the meth cooking restricted to the kitchen only.”
“You’re a peach.”
“Seriously,” I say, “if there’s anything I can do to help out, say so. I don’t mind cleaning and I can cook simple stuff.”
“You don’t need to cook for me, Gia.”
“Well, I want to do something.”
“Poker lessons,” he says, his gaze focused on the road ahead.
“Really?”
He nods and glances over at me. “I thought I was okay at it until I saw you play. Can you teach me? And maybe we can host the team for a poker night?”
“Of course.” I take a deep breath and exhale, releasing the nervous energy I feel being so close to him. “You know I like you, right?”
He gives me a confused look. “I assume you wouldn’t live with someone you hated.”
“No, I mean…” I put a hand on his knee. “I mean I like you.”
“I like you, too. A lot. You know that.”
“I don’t know if there’s going to be a time in my future when I can get involved with a man,” I admit. “But there might be. And it might be just a few months away. And if I can, you’re the only man I want.”
Maverick’s hand flexes on the steering wheel of his truck. “Are you asking me to wait?”
“I…don’t know,” I admit. “I won’t lie. It would break my heart to see you with another woman. I guess I just want you to know that I’m not just toying with you. The reason I can’t get involved…it’s real, and it’s important to me. I’ve been waiting and working toward something for years, and I’m almost there.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Gia.”
He rests his right hand on the center console between us, palm up, his gaze staying on the road. I hesitate for a second, and then put my hand in his, lacing my small fingers between his larger ones.
It feels good, having my hand in his. I don’t know what the future holds, but I hope I get to show him that I mean what I say.
When we get to the apartment, I pack bags for me and Ro. Every time I fill one up, Maverick carries it down the three flights of stairs to his truck. I even grit my teeth and open her nightstand drawer, seeing a bright pink cloth bag with a drawstring holding it closed. Bob. Picking it up between my thumb and forefinger, I drop it into one of her bags of clothes and zip it up.
Having people in my life has its ups and downs. I know one thing for sure, though—I don’t want to go back to life before Ro and Maverick, when the only people I had were my brothers and mom on the other end of a phone line.
I just hope Ro and Maverick understand when I have to leave.
Chapter Fifteen
Maverick
“My nuts aren’t sweaty,” Pike says. “I could get used to this place.”
“I’ve always liked Vancouver, but I wouldn’t want to live here,” I say as I pick up our room key from a table and slide it into my wallet. “You ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
We have a game against Vancouver tonight and we’re heading down to board the bus that will take us to their arena for our pregame skate.
“We better win this one,” Pike mutters to me as we wait for the elevator. “I’m fucking sick of losing.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit. “All of us are solid players individually, but put us together on the ice and we look like shit.”
“I think we could switch the second and third lines and win more games,” Pike says. “Between you and me.”
“Yeah.” The elevator doors open and it’s empty. We step on. “The third line probably deserves to be first, the way Dane and I play together.”
“What the hell is with that guy?” Pike asks. “He’s in a bad mood all the time.”
I shake my head as Pike pushes the button for the lobby. “I’m not sure I’m the best guy to be captain. The headlines lately have been about me and Dane not getting along, and that’s not the kind of thing a captain should be getting attention for.”
Pike scowls. “The problem’s not with you.”
I shrug. “I could defuse things with him, but I don’t.”
The sports reporters were all nearby when I came storming out of the locker room after a 3–0 loss last week. Not one goal scored. It was an embarrassment. Dane was standing nearby, about to be interviewed, when he muttered a comment to me about being washed up.