Chapter 14

Bailey

My phone practically exploded with texts the moment I got home, with Sage asking for every detail. Lucia and Manny had grilled me on the drive home, so I laughed at having to rehash it all over again with Sage, but I felt lighter somehow. As if meeting Jensen took a load off my shoulders.

I liked him and he appeared to like me.

It occurred to me I’d been worried that no man would ever look at me again, but Jensen had.

I’d been single for a while, but I was no na?ve little virgin. I’d had lots of boyfriends and gone out on enough dates to know when a man wanted me.

And Jensen Bang wanted me.

Maybe it was just sex, maybe it was something else, but he wanted me.

He’d seen me limp and still wanted to see me again.

Short-term, that was enough for me.

It had been so long since I’d been interested in a man this felt like the first true piece of normality since the accident, and I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I woke up to a text from Jensen that made me smile all over again.

JENSEN: Good morning. Hope you slept well.

BAILEY: I did.

JENSEN: I thought about you all night.

I couldn’t stop smiling, feeling ridiculously happy about that, especially since he’d been on my mind as well.

BAILEY: I thought about you too. I’m looking forward to tomorrow night. By the way, what’s your favorite thing to eat?

JENSEN: Have you seen me? I eat everything. Although in general I try to eat as much lean protein as possible during hockey season. I work out a lot, so I’ll eat almost anything. No allergies, but I’m not a fan of bell peppers.

BAILEY: As a matter of fact, I’m allergic to bell peppers, so you’re in luck! How about chicken parmesan with whole wheat pasta and Caesar’s salad?

JENSEN: My mouth is already watering.

BAILEY: Garlic bread with cheese?

JENSEN: Stop it…

BAILEY: Chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert?

JENSEN: That’s it, I’m coming over right now…

BAILEY: LOL Anytime.

JENSEN: I wish I had time today, but hockey calls.

BAILEY: Don’t worry. Tomorrow will be here before we know it. By the way, I’ll be watching the game tonight even though I probably won’t understand a single thing that’s happening.

JENSEN: If you ever change your mind about coming to a game…

BAILEY: Thank you. It’s been a long road since the accident, and the last thing I need is for the media to dredge it all up again.

JENSEN: I understand.

BAILEY: What number do you wear?

JENSEN: Twenty-five.

BAILEY: Any reason for that?

JENSEN: Nope. It was the only number I liked that was available when I played in college and it stuck. I didn’t want to change when I got to the pros.

BAILEY: Makes sense.

JENSEN: Maybe we can watch a game together on TV some night and I’ll explain the basics so you’re not as lost.

BAILEY: I’d love that.

JENSEN: Okay, well, I’m heading into the morning skate, but I’ll talk to you this afternoon, okay?

BAILEY: I’ll be here. I have a call with my agent in an hour, so I have to get ready for that.

JENSEN: Good luck. Talk to you later.

BAILEY: Bye.

I was still grinning as I slid down to the floor to stretch.

I’d been sore last night, but not as bad as the last time I’d worn those boots, so I hoped that meant things were better. It would never be perfect, but I was happy with even the smallest improvement. For the first time, I wondered if the surgery my orthopedic surgeon wanted me to have could make things even better. A hip replacement would eliminate part of the pain and potentially give me another inch of height on that side.

I hadn’t paid attention to the details because the moment he’d mentioned another surgery and rehab, I’d tuned him out. Manny and Sage had been in charge back then, because I couldn’t take on any more emotional distress.

I’d had more than my share the last three years.

After the last surgery, I’d simply wanted to move on from all of that, even if it meant more pain and discomfort.

But now I suddenly had a reason to want more out of life.

I’d have to think about it.

Just not today.

Today I wanted to bask in the afterglow of meeting a cute guy who liked me.

Everything else would wait.

As I’d expected, I was totally confused watching the game.

The puck was hard to follow, I had no idea what the different calls and penalties were, and it was impossible to tell if the team from Detroit was good or if the Phantoms were just terrible. By the end of the second period, it was 6-1, and even though I got a little thrill every time I saw number twenty-five out on the ice, there was no doubt Jensen was frustrated.

There was one point where they showed his face as he yelled at the ref for a call, and there was no mistaking his lips as he said, “are you fucking kidding me?!”

He wore an A on his jersey, and I didn’t know what that meant, but a quick Google search told me he was an alternate captain. The significance was lost on me, so I called Manny in between periods.

“What does being an alternate captain mean?” I asked him.

“Just that he can talk to the refs if the captain isn’t on the ice at the time.”

“So is it a big deal to wear the A on his jersey?”

“Yes and no. It means his coach and teammates think highly enough of him to wear it, but it’s not the same as being the captain.”

“Gotcha. So, are they really awful or is the other team really good?”

“Detroit is a good team,” he said slowly, “but the Phantoms are playing like shit tonight. There is absolutely zero chemistry on the ice. Even your boy Jensen looks defeated.”

“I wish I understood more about the game,” I admitted. “I want to be able to talk to him about it but I don’t think I can.”

“Unless they stage a massive comeback in the third period, it’ll probably be better for you to play dumb when you talk to him. He’s probably going to be embarrassed.”

“It’s not his fault,” I protested. “It’s a team sport. Not like he’s sucking all by himself.”

“Yeah, but you know how it is. I don’t know a lot of pro athletes, but they’re a pretty proud and competitive bunch in general, so he’s probably got a lot of feelings happening right now.”

“All right, well, I’ll let you go since you’re at the game. Talk soon.”

“Bye.” He disconnected, and I stared at the TV for a while.

Part of me wished I’d gone to the game so I could be there for him, but the thought of being recognized made me glad I hadn’t.

That was something we were going to have to talk about.

I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but we liked each other, so I had to be clear about my limitations. Dating was one thing, but I wouldn’t be going to his games or even any team events with him. I had to avoid anything that would potentially put me back in the spotlight.

Obviously, even going somewhere lowkey like Casa del Papaya was a risk. Anyone could potentially recognize me, but going to a small local restaurant was different than attending a professional hockey game. I was working on my issues, especially how self-conscious I was, but it wouldn’t happen overnight, and Jensen would have to be cognizant of that.

If it bothered him that I didn’t want to be seen out and about in town, it might be better to end things before they even started.

We’d have to discuss these things sooner rather than later.

It would be hard because I really liked him.

His voice, the way he smiled, his gorgeous blue eyes.

And he was nice.

I also liked the fact that he had a successful career and his own money.

That probably sounded tacky, but after my experience with Dirk, I wouldn’t get involved with another guy who was potentially using me. It wasn’t like I was a gold digger. I had plenty of money with prospects for more on the horizon. The deal with LoveLand could potentially open up a lot of doors for me. Maybe even kick off a whole new career.

I’d been writing since the accident, though I’d been using a different name, but this sale would legitimize everything I’d been doing. It might even help me get a book deal.

That was something else I’d been thinking about; writing a memoir about what had happened to me. It would dispel the rumors and conjecture once and for all, but I wasn’t ready yet. It was still too raw, and no matter how far I’d come, I was vulnerable.

I turned my attention back to the game, realizing my mind had wandered, and I tried to keep up with what was happening. The score was 7-1 now, and there were a lot of guys out on the ice. Jensen was among them, his much larger body dwarfing most of the others.

It looked like a fight was about to break out, guys were pushing each other and snarling at one another. Jensen looked calm but poised to take action, and I practically held my breath as I waited to see what would happen.

I knew fighting was a thing in hockey, but I’d never paid much attention.

Now I was glued to the screen, hoping it didn’t continue to escalate.

Ooops.

Someone from Detroit threw a punch.

The guy on the Phantoms—someone whose last name was Rochenko—hit back.

Two more guys from Detroit jumped in.

Then Jensen got involved.

I almost covered my eyes with my hands, but I couldn’t look away.

Holy shit.

I wanted to be intimidated or frightened but I would’ve been lying if I’d said watching him fight wasn’t hot.

So hot, in fact, it was making me hot.