12. Josie

12

JOSIE

" S o, tell me, hockey boy," I said once our food was long gone, including the dessert Rick brought out to us. The sun had fully set as we remained there talking, losing track of time. People came and went from the food truck, but we didn't move.

"Hockey boy? Really?"

"What? I think it suits you," I said cheekily. "It's your new nickname."

"Out of all of the nicknames?" Wyatt raised an eyebrow. "Can't even add man instead of boy."

"Well, what should your nickname be then?"

"Wy. B. Or just Wyatt," he rattled off.

"Really? All of them are one letter."

"Technically Wy is with the W and the Y." This time it was his turn to be cheeky. "And B is for my last name. The guys on the team call me that one the most."

"Don't worry, we'll come up with a better one for you, hockey boy," I giggled as Wyatt sighed.

"You were saying?" He waved at me to continue. Suddenly, the confidence I felt a few moments ago slowly faded away. Now I wasn't sure if I should ask the question that was on the tip of my tongue. But I had to know, at least before things went further.

"Um…should I be expecting some sort of girlfriend or crazy ex to suddenly show up at my doorstep wondering why I'm spending time with you?" I forced myself to keep eye contact as I asked. The last thing I wanted was any drama.

"No, no crazy girlfriend or ex," Wyatt said as he shook his head. "I…" He struggled for a moment as though trying to decide if he should say more or not. "I'm not exactly proud of my past relationships. I slept around a lot my first year of Uni and continued when I got drafted." Again, he rubbed the side of his neck. "Any sort of relationships I did have didn't last long but I never cheated. I can promise you that," he said firmly as he gave me a pointed look.

"Relationships can be a bit hard with everything in my life. Sometimes you just don't know people's intentions. It makes dating more difficult. So, it's been about a year or so since I last ‘dated'."

"Women will seriously use you for fame?" It sounded like something that would come out of a book or movie, not real life. Yet I wouldn't put it past certain people to do that either and I thought about the women I saw—the so-called fans—that hunted the players down at clubs and the like.

"You'd be surprised at how many do," Wyatt said, bitterness seeping into his voice. His jaw clenched at what I assumed was a bad recollection.

Something close to anger washed over me at the thought of some girl using Wyatt like that. Using his kindness and handwork to get further in life, only to what? Cheat on him? Dump him when they found something better? Wyatt didn't deserve that. No one did.

"That's beyond shitty. I'm so sorry." I reached across the table and took his hand in mine, squeezing. "You shouldn't have to question someone's intentions when you are dating them."

"Comes with the territory."

The way he said it was like he's gotten used to it. "Doesn't make it right. Just because you get used to something doesn't mean it's okay."

I'm not like that. I'd never use him.

I wanted to reassure him; we'd just met—he didn't know me. So, as much as I wanted to say something I kept my mouth shut.

I wasn't even sure if I would see him again after today.

We may go back to being strangers for all I know.

"You ready to go?" Wyatt asked a moment later. My heart sank at the thought of tonight already being over, but it was getting late and I had work tomorrow. Agreeing I stood up and helped gather our empty plastic plates.

Wyatt kept his hand on my lower back as we both said goodnight to Rick, with a promise to be back soon, and headed for the car.

"I will admit that was probably the best burger I've had," I said as he slid into the driver's seat beside me.

"Told ya. I'll never steer you wrong." The lights on the dashboard lit up his face as he looked over at me. There was something about his smile that sent a rush of excitement through me. Almost like it held a certain promise that I had yet to know about.

And I found myself itching to know just what that promise was.

"So, you never got to answer the question," Wyatt spoke after we pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the arena for my car.

"What question?" I played dumb. I was slightly hoping I'd get out of answering it even though I was the one who brought it up in the first place.

"Uh huh, you know what one." His hand tapped my leg. "Do you have a boyfriend?" I sighed knowing it was only fair I talked about my past relationships when Wyatt opened up about his.

"Nope, no boyfriend," I answered truthfully. "My last ‘boyfriend' was about a year ago." The face of my ex came to mind, making me grimace.

"He was honestly a dick. There's no other way to describe him."

"How did you guys meet?"

"It was at an event I had to go to for work. He was the guy I was set to interview and at first, we clicked. We ended up talking for a few hours afterwards which led to him asking me out. Which ended up being such a mistake. My first sign should have been at the restaurant when he ordered for me. He literally ordered me a glass of milk."

"Milk?" The flabbergasted look on Wyatt's face made me laugh.

"Yeah. He interrupted me mid-order and ordered me a salad with milk. It was weird but I brushed it off. We had a pretty good conversation, but he talked about himself a lot. Every conversation we had was about his work and how accomplished he was. Whenever I brought up my own work, he'd make some comment about how women are better suited at home."

I put my hand up before Wyatt could say anything. "Don't even get me started on that one. Anyways, we only went out for about four months before I ended things. Of course, he wasn't thrilled about it and said some choice words that I won't say, but he was horrible."

"Sounds like a total prick. As if women are just meant to stay home all day and have children."

"He made an off comment about me quitting my job once." Even I rolled my eyes as I thought back to the comment. Like a man has any say in a woman's career or life for that matter. Some men love to think women are nothing more than just baby makers.

"But before him, there were only two other guys. One was my first ever boyfriend my freshman year of college."

"Wait, you didn't date until freshman year?" Wyatt asked, flicking a quick, wide-eyed glance at me before turning his attention back to the road.

"I was kinda the dorky, nerdy girl in high school that guys didn't really like. So, when Teddy showed up in one of my classes and asked to hang out, I was smitten. We dated for 9 months until I hurt my leg. Then he left me because I was ‘too much work'."

I fell silent for a moment, thinking about how crushed I was in my darkest time, how I was ‘too much to handle'. That my accident was all it took for him to tell me that it wasn't working out anymore. "Anyways, a week later I saw him with someone else. Top notch guy."

Wyatt muttered something under his breath that sounded like ‘tool' before I continued.

"And finally, my other boyfriend my junior year." My hands formed into fists in my lap. "He was your typical frat boy football player. Thought he was so hot and cool and when he gave me attention one night at a party, I thought I was on cloud nine. But uh…" The memories that hit me had me taking a deep breath.

"He had a temper. Only showed it behind closed doors. When the hits first started, he'd apologize, and I would instantly forgive him. I wanted to believe he didn't mean it and it would never happen again. He was so loving in front of everyone else, showing me off as his girlfriend, but as soon as we were alone it was a different story." I paused, taking another deep breath, noticing Wyatt's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

"It wasn't a good relationship. I knew that on some level, even though I denied it for a while. Wasn't until my friends saw the bruises and marks that I finally left." I fell quiet, my hands shaking in my lap, but I clamped them beneath my thighs to steady them. It happened years ago, but it was still hard to talk about. To remember. It was honestly the darkest part of my life.

"Josie I?—"

"I don't really want to talk about it," I mumbled, unable to look at him. There were certain things about the relationship I never spoke of or told anyone. I kept the darkest parts to myself and shoved them so far into a box, never wanting to think about them again.

"Okay," Wyatt said, his voice soft. I felt the tips of his fingers brush against my leg. Just the feel of his touch calmed me, and my breathing evened out. I pulled my hands back onto my lap, and as he went to pull his hand away from my leg, I found myself grabbing it, lacing my fingers through his. It surprised me as much as him, and yet, just that simple touch silenced the bad memories struggling to come out.

It baffled me that I was so comfortable with Wyatt. After my abusive ex it took me a long time to want to be touched by another man. Even now I still unconsciously flinch if someone raises a hand in the air. A few years ago, you wouldn't have caught me in a car with a random guy, yet here I am.

I wanted to question it. A part of me wanted to find something that would prove that Wyatt was not the nice guy he's portraying. At the same time, but for once I didn't want to. Today has been a good day, and I told myself to enjoy the moment. If I start picking and prodding it would ruin the first good day I'd had in a very long time.

We were silent the rest of the drive to the arena. Music played softly through the speakers but the only thing I could focus on was my hand in Wyatt's. Not once did he make any attempt to let go as he drove one-handed.

When we pulled up next to my car I didn't want to get out. Didn't want to let go of his hand, to relinquish the touch that had shoved those dark memories back into their box.

Reluctantly, I let go of his hand and got out of the car, meeting him at the driver's side of my own. I stood there awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, wanting to say something but any words stuck in my throat.

"Would it be okay if I gave you my number?" Wyatt suddenly asked. Butterflies erupted in my stomach. I tried my best to keep the surprise and excitement off my face as I nodded. I quickly reached into my bag and pulled out my phone, almost like he was going to rescind the offer.

"Here." I handed my phone over, biting my lip as I watched his long fingers type his number in. As I realized he seemed to type more than just his number, I leaned forward to take a look as he closed the screen.

"Here you go."

Fighting against the urge to check what he'd done; I tossed the phone back into my bag and slid into the front seat. Just as I was about to shut the door, his hand stopped it, pulling it back open. He bent down to look at me.

"I'll follow you back to our apartment building." He said it almost like a question. Like he wasn't sure it would be okay with me. I couldn't get my voice to work so I just nodded.

True to his word, Wyatt stayed behind me the whole drive home. He even parked his car beside mine and patiently waited for me to grab my things. I'd barely stepped to his side when he put his hand on my lower back and guided me towards the building. Through my clothes the skin his hand touched burned.

The silence between us was comfortable, albeit a little awkward, as we entered the building. The both of us looked at the elevator then at each other.

"Stairs?" He suggested, and I knew our last encounter with the elevator was on his mind.

"Stairs." We shared a grin before heading for the stairwell.

No getting stuck for us tonight.

We made it up the first four flights before I started regretting the decision. The heeled boots I wore were not meant for stairs, and neither were my legs. While I was trying my hardest not to show that I was dying, Wyatt casually took the stairs one at a time like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Why the hell did our building have so many stairs?

"Stupid hockey player," I mumbled.

"Did you just call me a stupid hockey player?" Wyatt gave me an amused look over his shoulder.

"Yes, I did. You're not even winded. It's not fair," I huffed.

"Want a piggy-back ride?" He suddenly offered.

"What? No, I'm good," I shook my head, my voice coming out a bit breathless.

"Or I can throw you over my shoulder?"

I started to laugh, thinking he was joking, but when Wyatt stopped and reached towards me, I darted up two steps before he could.

"I can still throw you over my shoulder, you know," Wyatt smirked.

"Well, I am a strong, independent woman." I raised my, and turning on my heel, started back up the stairs. Behind me Wyatt huffed out a laugh but continued after me.

By the time we made it to my floor I was out of breath and wishing I'd taken Wyatt up on his offer.

"That was fun." I heard the laughter in his voice.

"So fun," I muttered as we walked down the hall to my apartment, my mind going a million miles a minute.

Will he expect to come inside? Will he kiss me? Will I see him again? What if everything I told him was too much, and I've scared him off? That walking me to my apartment is just him being polite.

When we stopped at my door, we turned and faced each other, our eyes meeting. It was like we both wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out.

"I had a good time tonight," I finally said.

"I did too." The hard lines of his face relaxed a little as he smiled softly down at me.

"Thanks for walking me to my door," I said lamely, to which he just nodded. Unsure of what else to say or do, I grabbed my keys and unlocked my door. I hesitated for just a second, waiting to see if he'd say anything more, but when he didn't, I stepped into my apartment.

"Goodnight Wyatt."

"Josie." His voice stopped me from going any further. Turning to the side I gazed at him, standing there awkwardly on the other side of the threshold, hands at his sides. "I don't know if you have anything going on Friday, but I have a game and I was wondering if you would like to come?"

His offer took me completely by surprise. Here I was thinking he was going to something like ‘it was nice meeting you, see you around'. Instead, here he was asking me to come and watch him play.

"I, uh…" I stammered, unable to get my vocal cords to work.

"If you already have plans, that's fine too," he said in a rush, and I could hear an edge of nervousness in his voice.

Who would have thought? A bigshot like Wyatt Boone, nervous to ask a girl to come to one of his games.

"I would love to."

Like hell I'd say no.

"Yeah?" His blue eyes lit up at my words. "Okay, great. I'll text you the details." He stared down at me for another second before he cleared his throat and took a step back. For a second, I imagined that he was about to kiss me.

"Goodnight," he said instead, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Goodnight." Before I could do anything stupid, like pull him into a kiss, I quickly closed the door. Leaning back against it, I placed my hands on my burning cheeks, and smiled wider than I had ever done before.

Wyatt asked me to come to his game Friday! He wants to see me again!

A squeal erupted from me as I sunk to the floor. I was still there, reliving the evening when I felt my phone buzz in my handbag a few minutes later. I quickly pulled it out and found a new text from

Wyatt, although the name was something different.

Hockey Boy: I had a good time today.

My smile widened further as I read the text and the one above it. It was a text sent by ‘me' and it said;

I will always trust Wyatt Boone's food recommendations .

I ended up sitting there on the floor of my apartment for a good ten minutes re-reading the texts, feeling like maybe today was the start of something new and exciting.