27. Violet

Chapter 27

Violet

By the time I step into the shower to quickly wash up, my legs are trembling.

That man is a fucking genius with his tongue.

I’m smiling so hard it hurts as the water tumbles down my back, and there’s already a sweet ache settling into my muscles from all the things Sawyer and I have done together this morning and last night. But despite it all, I can’t shake the giddiness that’s coursing through me. I keep replaying everything that happened in my mind because part of me can’t believe it really happened, and I want to store every little detail so I never forget any of it.

It’s such a relief not to have to keep hiding my attraction to Sawyer. It’s been borderline oppressive to be in the house with him with all of this tension simmering and threatening to bubble over at any second. Now that we’ve let some of the pressure off and taken down the temperature a bit, I feel like I can actually breathe again.

But I won’t lie, knowing that he’s been suffering just as much as I have until now makes me feel incredible—and only adds to my arousal. It’s been so long since I can last remember feeling this sexy and desirable that it’s almost embarrassing to admit, even to myself, but I’m glad to feel this way again.

What’s harder to believe is that after I told Sawyer everything on my bucket list, he agreed to help me tick off every single item.

I’m going to hold him to it.

Smiling to myself, I turn off the water and climb out of the shower to get dressed and head downstairs. Jake and Sawyer are in the kitchen, where Sawyer is cooking breakfast for all of us, scrambled eggs and bacon. Sawyer acts like he wants to hug me when he sees me walk into the kitchen, but thinks better of it.

“Good morning,” he says instead.

“Morning, Ms. Violet!” Jake echoes, waving at me happily from the kitchen table.

It’s after eight, and I don’t want Sawyer to be late for his morning practice before tonight’s game, so I drift over to him and lean against the counter.

“I can finish this up for you if you need to get for practice.”

He grins at me over his shoulder. “Thanks. I am running a little late this morning,” he says teasingly, then leans closer so Jake won’t hear. “But it was well worth it.”

I smile and take the spatula from him to flip the bacon that’s sizzling and popping in the pan just like my insides. Sawyer heads upstairs to get ready, so I turn to Jake to see what he’s up to. He’s got a coloring book open on the table where he’s filling in the outline of a hockey player shooting a goal.

“You sleep okay?” I ask, and he nods eagerly.

“Yup. I was so tired.”

That makes two of us .

I can’t stop smiling as images of Sawyer on top of me flash through my mind, but I turn back to the food to keep from letting Jake see it on my face. I don’t want him asking what I’m smiling about.

“You excited about getting to watch your dad play tonight?”

“I can’t wait!” Jake bounces in his chair. “Who are the Aces playing again?”

“The Cyclones,” Sawyer answers for me as he comes back downstairs and walks toward the little boy to ruffle his hair.

Jake looks up at his dad, the crayon dangling in his hand. “Are they good?”

Sawyer winks at him. “Not as good as us,” he says, and Jake laughs.

“Do you have all your stuff, Daddy?”

“Good question. Where’s the list?”

“Right here,” I say and reach to pull it off the magnet that’s holding it in place on the fridge. I pass it to Sawyer, and he beams at me as he takes it and hands it over to Jake, who pretends he can read it when he’s really just got the whole thing memorized after doing this hundreds of times with his dad.

“Wallet?” Jake asks without even looking at the piece of paper.

“Got it,” Sawyer answers, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and holding it up.

“Phone?”

Sawyer pats his front pocket where the outline of his phone is showing. “Right here.”

“Gear bag?”

Sawyer nods at the front door where he dropped his gear bag on the way back into the kitchen. “Ready to go.”

“Keys?”

“I knew I was forgetting something. See? This is why we have the list, buddy,” Sawyer tells Jake, and he giggles as Sawyer goes fishing for his keys. He normally keeps them in a bowl by the front door, but he doesn’t find them there after rummaging around in the bowl for several seconds.

But then Jake melts down into uncontrollable giggles, so Sawyer turns to give him a knowing look. Jake laughs one last time as he lifts one side of his little behind and pulls out his dad’s keys to jangle them.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, because you’re trouble,” Sawyer tells Jake.

He takes the keys, then attacks Jake’s side with his fingers, tickling him until he’s full-on cackling and squirming to get away. But Sawyer hoists him up and turns him upside down by his ankles, making Jake laugh even harder, and gives him a couple of gentle play shakes.

“Anything else hiding in those pockets we need to shake loose?” Sawyer asks over Jake’s peals of laughter. “Nope, guess that’s everything.”

Sawyer spins Jake right side up and sets him back in his chair at the kitchen table. Jake’s face is flushed bright red from all the blood that rushed to it, but he’s beaming and laughs again when Sawyer ruffles his hair. Sawyer really is such a great dad to Jake, so patient and playful, and seeing the love they have for each other like this never gets old.

“Alright, now that my little prankster has played his tricks, I’d better get going before I’m late,” Sawyer says.

He approaches me, and I feel myself tense as he gets closer until he catches himself, freezes, and lets his hand fall. With his back to Jake, he fixes me with a heated look, letting his expression say everything he can’t.

“I, uh, I’ll see you two later.”

“Yeah. Have a good practice,” I say, my voice coming out mousy because I’m flustered. Sawyer spins and strides back to Jake to plant a kiss on top of his head.

“Be good for Ms. Violet.”

“He always is,” I say, and Jake beams at me.

After Sawyer leaves, I finish getting Jake breakfast, then take him to school. I spend the day doing some easy chores around the house—and, let’s be honest, daydreaming about Sawyer—and then I pick Jake up from school and bring him home.

At sunset, I chase the little boy out to my car to go to the arena. He’s wearing a little jersey with his dad’s number on it, and he practically leaps into my car when I open the door. He’s been on pins and needles ever since he got home from school.

He loves watching his dad play hockey, but he doesn’t get to go to Sawyer’s night games very often, so we spent the late afternoon researching the opposition, since Jake couldn’t stop talking about it.

The St. Louis Cyclones have been doing pretty well this season, but I don’t think they stand a chance against the Aces tonight. We have home team advantage, and if Sawyer plays even half as well as he did the last time Jake and I watched him play, then it’s going to be a shutout.

The players are on the ice warming up by the time we get to the arena, and I glance around quickly, spotting Callie and Becca near the glass, along with a few of the other WAGs. We head toward them, Jake tugging eagerly on my hand.

“Violet!” Callie calls, waving at us. She’s wearing a jersey with Reese’s number on it, and she kneels to Jake’s level as we approach. “Hi, Jake. Are you excited for the game tonight?”

“I can’t wait!” he says, his body practically vibrating with excitement.

“Awesome. I’m glad you’re here to cheer our guys on.” She raises her hand for a high five, and Jake slaps his palm against hers. “There we go! That’s exactly the kind of enthusiasm we need. We’ve gotta be the best, loudest fans in the stands.”

Jake nods enthusiastically, and she ruffles his hair as she rises to her feet again. We exchange hugs, and I hug Becca too.

“Glad to see you survived the club the other night,” Becca says quietly in my ear when we part. “Sawyer didn’t seem too happy.”

“He was just worried about me.”

Callie must have overheard, because she smiles softly and leans in to bump her shoulder against mine. “Typical protective hockey player, huh?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah, Reese has the same kind of protective streak. I’m sure you know that. I’m actually glad Sawyer saved me from myself that night. I’m sure I would’ve felt much worse the next day if he hadn’t.”

“We should’ve kept better tabs on how much you were drinking,” Becca says, looking a bit guilty. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine!” I wave a hand. “That’s on me. It’s been a while since I’ve gone out like that, I didn’t realize how much of a lightweight I had become.”

“Girl, tell me about it,” Callie says, and we all laugh.

As we settle into our seats, I spot Margo standing off to the side of the Aces box, recording footage for their social media pages. She waves to me, and I wave back.

Jake stands up in his seat to get a better view of the ice, and Callie and I both instinctively put a hand on his back to keep him from falling. He cups his hands around his mouth and calls out in his little boy voice, “Let’s go, Daddy!”

The stands fill in around us as the warmup finishes, and by the time the players leave the ice, the whole arena is packed and noisy. There’s an energy coursing through the spectators, especially among the Aces fans who take up most of the seats—and it’s never more evident than when the lights dim and the spotlights projecting the Aces logo start dancing across the ice.

The crowd roars as the game finally gets underway.

I was right in my guess that the Aces are a stronger team than the Cyclones, but it’s still a tough game. There are a few shots on goal early in the first period, but then the Cyclone defense really steps things up, shutting down several plays. By the end of the first period, the score is 0-0, and as the second period starts, I notice Jake squirming in his seat.

At first I think it’s because he’s just so into the action playing out on the ice, but then it strikes me that there’s probably a bit more to it.

“Hey, bud,” I say, leaning down to speak over the crowd. “Do you need to hit the bathroom?”

He scrunches up his face. Clearly, he does, but he doesn’t want to miss any of the action.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, standing and taking his hand. “We’ll be quick. We won’t miss much.”

He nods reluctantly and allows me to lead him up the stairs and out to the restroom area. Just like I promised, we’re lightning fast, and once he’s taken care of his business, we start to head back into the stands.

As we’re making our way down the steps toward our seats, a man stands up and steps out of the row in front of me. I wobble as I stop myself from crashing into him, and he chuckles, reaching out to steady me.

“Sorry.” He grins. “I should’ve made sure the coast was clear.”

“That’s alright.”

Instead of stepping back into the row to let us pass, he glances down at Jake. “Hey, cute kid.”

“Um, thanks.” I smile politely, glancing toward the ice. Jake is already watching the game raptly from where we’re standing, unbothered by the fact that we haven’t made it back to our seats yet, but I don’t want to miss anything. “He’s not mine. I’m just his nanny.”

The guy, who’s probably about my age and smells like hot dogs and beer, chuckles. “A hot nanny. Isn’t that a bit cliché?”

I blink, taken aback and a little annoyed by the fact that he seems to be simultaneously hitting on me and disparaging me. “I guess. I really just came here to watch the game.”

“Oh, right.” He glances at the ice. “You know, if you need someone to explain the rules to you, I’d be happy to?—”

A loud sound cuts him off. Several people in the audience yelp, and when I turn back to the ice, I see the plexiglass protecting the crowd shaking and Sawyer skating toward the puck—which I realize that he just hit with his best slapshot. One of the refs blows his whistle and calls out some kind of warning to Sawyer, but Sawyer barely acknowledges it.

He glances up into the stands, his gaze locking on me and the tipsy hockey bro in front of me.

My stomach flutters, a smirk tugging at my lips. There’s no fucking way that slapshot was an accident, and it definitely wasn’t an accident that it hit the glass right in front of us.

It was a warning.

Even from the ice, even with a game going on around him, he’s looking out for me, and he clearly didn’t like seeing this guy hitting on me.

I grin, shifting my focus to Hot Dog Breath, who looks a little rattled.

“You might want to sit down,” I tell him sweetly. “You know, just in case any more pucks come this way.”

“Right,” he mutters, finally moving out of my way and back into the row.

Jake and I take our seats again, and when Callie shoots me a questioning look, I just shrug.

“The bathroom took us a little longer than we thought it would,” I tell her casually.

The game continues, and now that I’m safely seated between Callie and Jake and don’t have to fend off unwanted advances from tipsy strangers, I lean forward, refocusing on the tense action. It’s still tied at zero, and both teams are pushing hard to take the advantage.

The players all seem keyed up, and after the next face off, the Cyclones’ center barrels through everyone else to take control of the puck, then charges down the ice like his life depends on it.

I suck in a breath through my teeth as the guy hurtles toward Sawyer like a freight train and Sawyer tenses up, ready to head him off. But the center changes direction abruptly, trying to slip by Sawyer’s left side. Sawyer pivots to follow him, but he’s so focused on the center that he doesn’t see the Cyclones’ left winger streaking up right behind him, making a beeline for Sawyer as he tries to chase the center down.

Sawyer is just about to reach out to intercept the puck when the Cyclones’ left winger collides with him, slamming him so hard into the boards from behind that Sawyer’s helmet flies off and goes spinning across the ice. The two of them go down together. Sawyer takes the brunt of it when he hits the ice first, followed by the Cyclones player crashing down onto him. A collective gasp rips through the crowd, and Jake throws himself at me.

“Daddy!” he quavers, sounding on the verge of tears.

I want to believe Sawyer is okay, but the way he crunched against the boards was so loud and forceful that the entire arena heard it.

My heart climbs into my throat, pounding furiously and making it difficult to breathe, but I try not to let it show while I hug Jake and rub his back. The refs blow on their whistles, stopping the game, and streak toward Sawyer with medics right behind them.

The arena turns so quiet that I can hear my own heart pounding while the medics examine both Sawyer and the Cyclones’ left winger.

The Cyclones player gets up first, to small cheers and applause from the crowd, but Sawyer stays on his back until the medics hoist him up from under his arms to get him back on his feet to a deafening roar from the audience. He’s injured, but he can at least still skate with some help.

The Aces coach meets Sawyer at the entrance to their box where he makes the call to pull Sawyer from the rest of the game. Although there’s some scattered groaning, everyone still cheers for Sawyer as he leaves the ice. I’m shocked they don’t penalize the Cyclones’ left winger for checking Sawyer from behind like that, and I press my lips together as play resumes.

“Is Daddy gonna be okay?” Jake asks, sounding worried. I rub his back gently.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, bud. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten knocked around, and he’s a tough guy.”

Jake doesn’t seem convinced, and I don’t want him to worry or pick up on how worried I am either, so I smile at him and give him a sideways hug.

“They would’ve taken him into the back if he was badly hurt,” I assure him.

“Yeah,” Jake agrees quietly.

My stomach twists, and although the Aces manage to score twice in quick succession, I can barely focus on the game. My eyes keep drifting to the bench where Sawyer sits watching from the sidelines. He’s visibly in pain, but he’s either doing a good job of hiding how bad it is or not as injured as I originally feared. But still, I’m worried about him.

The game ends with an Aces win, 3-0, but I don’t even care about that. I hustle Jake into the family and friends lounge, holding his hand and trying not to squeeze it too hard as we both wait anxiously.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of sitting on pins and needles, Sawyer makes his way into the lounge. He grins when he sees us, but the smile turns to a wince with the next step he takes. He avoids putting all of his weight on the side where the Cyclones’ player checked him, favoring the other side instead as he walks toward us.

Jake releases my hand and dashes forward to throw himself at Sawyer. “Daddy!”

Amazingly, Sawyer catches him and hoists him up onto his hip, although he makes a pained face at the motion. They hug each other, and Jake squeezes Sawyer tightly around his neck, which makes Sawyer wince again. I walk over to them, wrestling with the urge to wrap my arms around Sawyer myself. But I can’t do that here, and I don’t want to give away more than we already might have tonight, so I stop in front of him and give him a shaky smile.

“How bad is the damage?”

Sawyer shrugs and winces again. “I’ll be alright. I’ve definitely been through worse.”

Before I can ask him for more details, Reese enters the lounge. He spots Callie first as if his gaze is magnetically drawn in her direction, his face lighting up at the sight of her. He sweeps her into his arms for a kiss before turning toward me, his arm still draped around her shoulders.

“Hey, sis! How about that game, huh?”

“I’m glad you won. It definitely kept us on the edge of our seats,” I say, my stomach still a bit unsettled from the massive adrenaline dump earlier.

Jake nods and puts one arm around Sawyer’s neck again. “I’m just glad my dad’s okay.”

Reese scowls. “You and me both, little man. That was a super dirty check from the Cyclones. I can’t believe the refs didn’t give him a penalty for it.”

We chat for a few more minutes about the game as Reese keeps an arm wrapped around Callie. Then the two of them get pulled away into a conversation with Maxim and Grant, leaving me alone with Sawyer and Jake again.

“We’d better get you to bed, mister,” I tell Jake as he rubs his eyes.

He’d never admit it, but the poor kid is probably exhausted after all of this excitement. Sawyer sets him down, wincing and grunting in the process, and smiles at me as Jake slips his hand into mine.

“I’ll take him home,” I tell Sawyer.

He nods, holding my gaze. “I’ll be right behind you,” he murmurs.

There’s something in his expression, subtle but meaningful, that sends a shiver of awareness down my spine.

“I’ll wait up,” I whisper, then lead Jake out of the lounge.