15. Sophie

15

SOPHIE

“Oh, Trevor,” I say on an exhale as he takes off his shirt in our room. Normally those words are in appreciation of his sculpted muscles and smooth skin. This time it’s in dismay. We undressed in the dark when we arrived early this morning, so this is my first glimpse at all the bruises painting his torso and shoulders. “How are they allowed to do this? That isn’t nice.”

“Honey, hockey isn’t about being nice. It’s about winning. If I’m an obstacle to them getting the puck into the goal, then they’re going through me, and if I get bumps and bruises, so be it.”

My heart trips when he calls me “honey.” He’s been doing it more often the past few weeks, and I don’t know if he even realizes it. I know I slip sometimes and call him “baby” or use “boyo” as a term of endearment. It’s been so easy being together. It’s not feeling like a fling. It’s feeling like…life. Like this is what our life could be like for years to come. I know his slips of the tongue don’t mean anything, but for a moment, I can pretend we have a real relationship and not something with an expiration date. In the weeks we’ve been no-strings sleeping with each other, I’ve begun to see what having a true partner is like. And I’ve begun to ache for one. It terrifies me. Because it’s not just any old someone I’m aching for. It’s Trevor. I want a partner, I want to be in love, but I don’t want to hurt anyone, and the things I want and don’t want will only hurt a man like Trevor. Trevor in pain, physical or emotional, is the last thing I want. If only he wasn’t who and what he is. But if he was any different, I don’t know that I’d feel as deeply as I do for him. I wish I wasn’t who and what I am, but trying to change would only lead to unhappiness for us both. Still, I can dream. But not now. Right now, the priority is Trevor and him being healthy and safe while playing hockey.

“It’s more than that. They’re trying to hurt you. It’s not about scoring, it’s about injuring you. They’re talking about me to get to you. Not just you, but my brother too.”

My brother doesn’t have a temper. Even when we were kids, he was the one that always played fairly. But he’s protective as the day is long, and if someone’s speaking badly about me, he’ll settle it. A flush creeps up Trevor’s neck and along the sexy stubble dusting his cheeks. He takes my hand and pulls me into his embrace. I want to snuggle in and hold on tight, but I’m afraid of hurting him.

“It doesn’t matter what he said.” Trevor nuzzles the top of my head with his nose. “Chirping is part of the game. We’re professionals and should tune it out.”

“But you’re not. Dec isn’t. He reacted, and then it all came down on you. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

He slips his calloused palm under my T-shirt and runs it up and down my back. If I was a cat shifter, I’d be purring.

“I’m healing up. I’ll be fine to start learning this week’s dance tomorrow.”

I growl in frustration. “I don’t care about the dance, I care about you!”

His hand stills, and we stand there in stunned silence. I can’t believe I said that, but I meant it. And I’m petrified. Dancing is what’s most important to me. No man, especially not this man, can shift my focus. I won’t fall into the trap my mother did. But I am falling. And savoring every second.

“It’s okay, Sophie, I know what you meant,” Trevor says, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “You’re sweet. I’m tough. I’ll heal up the next couple of days and be as good as new. I can give as good as I get, don’t worry.”

Letting out a giggle I don’t really feel to try and lighten the mood, I joke, “I know that, boyo. But I don’t want you to risk injury on the ice because you’re dancing and the other teams are full of assholes.”

I step out of his hold, wrapping my arms around my stomach. “Do you harass the players on the other teams who are doing the shows?”

He shrugs. “No, but our show started first, and since you’re Mac’s sister, it’s a two-for-one chirp to piss us off.”

“Woo-hoo for efficiency,” I mutter.

Trevor laughs and then groans, clutching his ribs. “Sophie, you can’t make me laugh until tomorrow when I’ve healed up some more.”

“What are you going to do today? You can’t practice. Are you going to sleep? Want to play tourist?”

He shakes his head. “I’m going to watch video with the team and observe practice. Maybe I’ll see things to fix since I’m not on the ice and involved in the play. Mac picked up a weakness on our left side none of us caught because he was sitting out with his broken hand. I’m praying I’ll see something simple to fix to stop us from losing so many games. We’re dropping in the standings. At this point, we’ll be lucky to play for a wild card spot, when a month ago, we were the top seed in our division.” He jams his fingers in his thick copper-tinged hair and tugs it in frustration. “We’re falling apart, and it doesn’t make sense.”

But it does. First the team captain falls in love. Then Dec and Miranda have all their drama. Now we’re having a fling. Three of the team’s top players are distracted with romance. Well, in our case—sex. They lost their focus on hockey. That’s why they aren’t playing as well as they were.

I knew it would happen. That’s why I can’t let whatever feelings I may have for Trevor distract me from my goals. I’m not going to end up like my mother or my brother, letting love keep me from my dreams. No point in sharing my theory. It’s not like Declan and Miranda would break up to help the Devil Birds win games. Declan would stop playing hockey before he left the woman he loves.

“What’s your plan? Do you want to watch practice?” Trevor asks.

“Um…no. It’s enough to watch the games. I don’t need to see practice. No one wants to see how the sausage is made, Trevor.”

His chuckle is light in deference to his aching ribs, but it still warms me.

“I’m going to start choreographing our shifter dance. Do you think you’ll be okay to do lifts?”

He runs a calloused finger along my forearm, bringing out goosebumps. The way he wiggles his brows above his hazel eyes makes me smile softly as my tummy flips.

“By tomorrow, I’m going to be healed up enough to do all sorts of things, Sophie. If you were on top, we could do stuff now.”

I roll my eyes and give him a gentle pat on his stubbled cheek.

“Keep dreaming, boyo. If you’re too banged up to dance, you’re too banged up to do other things.”

His low groan as I grab my laptop and settle on the recliner in the room almost makes me feel guilty. Almost. Before I can hit play to start our song, he leans over my laptop and kisses me sweetly. I whimper when he pulls away before I have a chance to deepen our kiss. Even if we can’t do other things today, kissing is still on the menu.

“I’m gonna go hang out with the team for video and then go to the rink for practice. Have fun.” He taps me on the tip of my nose as he straightens.

It’s silly how that tiny gesture sets butterflies alight throughout my nervous system. My smile is probably dreamy as I look up at him. “Okay. I hope you see stuff that can help. Take care.”

We look at each other, and I feel like there are so many other things being said, but neither one of us will voice them. I’m refusing to even acknowledge what they are. It may as well be static on an old radio.

I hit play on my phone as the door clicks closed behind him. The first couple of times I listen to the song, I sit with my eyes shut and let the music wash over me. I lose myself in the crests and dips of the melody. Then I start counting the beats and making notes of movements that could work there. Sometimes I jump right into choreographing a piece and just move to the music. But sometimes, like now, I outline the dance before starting to move. Almost like what I imagine authors do before starting a novel.

Soon the urge to move is irresistible, and I start freestyling to the music. With Trevor’s contemporary skills and his incredible strength, he’s going to shine in this dance. We’ll be able to do lifts. I’m excited by that but also nervous. I’ve done lifts before, but never with a partner with his strength and experience. Ian is the only shifter partner I’ve had, but our lifts were limited and, frankly, fairly tame. With Trevor’s cheerleading experience, he’ll be able to do just about anything I ask of him. I’m eager to see what we can come up with, but I’m worried I won’t be good enough to match him. That’s the theme with us—I can’t match what he needs. But maybe for this week, we can give each other what’s necessary to move closer to both of our dreams coming true. We only need to get through three more weeks, and then the show will be over. I’ll either be a pro on the show, or I’ll be finding a new partner and hitting the competition circuit again. No matter what, my fling with Trevor will be over, and I’ll have to get used to being alone again. It’s not even about the sex, as incredible as that is. I’ve enjoyed being with him in a way I’ve never experienced with another man.

I would give anything to be a different kind of woman and want to be the sort of wife and mother a man like Trevor expects in his mate. To be a woman like my mother. But I know I can’t, and I’m not going to doom either of us to a lifetime of unhappiness and regret when I can’t live up to the role I’d be put in. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Why must life be such a bitch sometimes?

* * *

I’m sitting with Daphne and Miranda in a box at the Cryptids’ arena, watching the teams warm up on the ice. Trevor sits at a table farther back in the box with Jake.

“I love visiting Colorado Springs,” Daphne says, “but being over a mile above sea level with the thinner air is rough. No matter how fit our Devil Birds are, it’s always a challenge to play here.”

“Does the Colorado team have an advantage at lower altitudes? More stamina?” I munch on the handful of popcorn I grabbed out of the communal tub we’re sharing. Daphne mixed in colorful chocolates and peanut butter candies, and the combination of flavors is making my taste buds happy. I’m glad Daphne mentioned the altitude. I thought I was being lazy, getting tired while working on movements for our dance this week. I’m relieved to know it’s normal.

She shrugs. “Maybe a slight advantage in conditioning, but not enough to make a difference. Being at sea level isn’t as much of an advantage for the high-altitude teams, especially with everyone being so highly conditioned in general. And since everyone is a shifter, they acclimate more quickly anyway. They don’t need days like a human does before exerting themselves. Just staying overnight seems to be enough for them to be good to go.”

“Does altitude affect avian shifters like Bridget or Logan?” The Devil Birds’ goalie is a goose shifter, but that’s not common knowledge, and Daphne’s husband is an eagle shifter. I’ve always been curious about that, but I grew up surrounded by wolf shifters and didn’t have anyone to ask.

“No, they acclimate easily. Of course, Logan is used to traveling, so things like altitude and time zones don’t affect him that much. How is Trevor doing? I’m glad they aren’t playing him tonight. All the healing he has to do, plus the altitude? I don’t know how he’d get through a full game. He’d be like a limping deer hunted by a ravenous pack of wolves.” She grimaces and shoots me an apologetic glance. “No offense.”

I chuckle. “None taken.”

The last thing I want is for Trevor to not be able to perform at full strength and speed. Playing hurt is risking greater injury, and we can’t have that. Glancing over my shoulder at Trevor, I watch him nod while listening earnestly to Jake, who’s pointing at something on the ice. Trevor’s brow furrows as he shakes his head. I hear the word “trade,” but nothing else of their conversation because they’re speaking quietly and the Cryptids’ arena is loud.

Grabbing Miranda’s arm, I nervously ask, “Trevor isn’t getting traded, is he?”

It would devastate him to leave the team. I’m not sure he’d play for another one. As much as he loves playing professional hockey, he loves playing in his hometown and working with his friends. I’ll dance anywhere to achieve my goals, but Trevor is more selective. His goals stretch far beyond playing hockey. Dance is all I have.

Miranda shakes her head emphatically. “No! Why would you think that? Has Trevor said anything about wanting to play elsewhere?” It’s her turn to glance over her shoulder to where Trevor and Jake are seated.

“No, we haven’t talked about the trade deadline at all. But I know it’s coming up and it’s been on everyone’s mind. Will anyone be traded from the team?”

Miranda chews on her cheek. “I can’t say anything. There have been discussions, and maybe there will be some new faces in the locker room and folks moving on, but nothing is definite, and it wouldn’t be anyone at the barn. I can’t say anything more than that. I shouldn’t have even said that much.”

We settle in to watch the game. Declan’s playing Trevor’s usual position and is doing a fine job. The team seems to be working well together. It’s a physical game but not to the level it has been recently, and no one player seems to be targeted like Trevor has been. It’s almost like there’s a bounty on his head. I’m even more glad he’s sitting this game out. The team heads off the ice after a scoreless first period, and I join Trevor. He’s scrolling through his phone and gives me the briefest glance when I rest my hand on his shoulder.

“Hey.” I lean into him.

He stiffens and leans away, shrugging his shoulder to dislodge my hand. “There could be cameras.”

I look around. The box is visible from around the arena, but I don’t notice anyone paying any particular attention to us. The announcers are across the ice from us, but they’re chatting with each other for their intermission report.

“So? We’re on camera all the time.”

“For dancing, yeah, but if they see us cuddling up here, that’ll fan the flames of the rumors that we’re dating.”

I know we’re not public, but I didn’t realize we were a secret.

“Right. Sorry.” I step away and dodge his hand when he reaches out for me.

“Soph…” he says on a sigh. “I’m sorry. The hockey blogs are saying you’re the reason my game has been crap and the team has been losing. I know that’s not true. The team knows it’s not true. But I don’t want to give anyone ammunition to talk crap about you. I can’t stand it.”

I swallow down the lump that’s clogging my throat. “No worries, Trevor. I get it. You all need to be focused on getting the playoffs and not dealing with ridiculous rumors about us being in a relationship. In three weeks, I’ll be gone, and all the drama stirred up will be proven false. It’s all good.”

I keep my spine straight as I walk to the bathroom conveniently located in our box. Resting my back against the locked door, I allow myself the indulgence of a few tears before I lock down my heart, take care of business, and prepare to emerge like I don’t have a concern in the world. I’m a dancer and an actress. If I was able to carry a tune, I could market myself as a triple threat. But I can’t, so I better make sure I stay focused on being the best dancer I can be.