If You Hate Me (The Toronto Terror Series)
If You Hate Me: Chapter 23

“These reports are flawless, Rix. You’re such a fantastic addition to this team. I almost regret telling you about that position in Vancouver.” Agatha Boycott, my boss, gives me a rueful smile. She prefers to be called Aggie. She’s a super funky woman in her early fifties with two grown children, a Great Dane, and a hairless cat. There are pictures of her entire family, pets included, all over her office.

“I just moved into an apartment with a friend, so I’m not looking to transfer.” Although, if ever there was a time I should consider getting out of Dodge, it would be now, while my heart is bruised and my vagina is devastated. But it would be uncool to move in with Hammer and promptly bail for Vancouver.

It’s nice to have a fun roommate. And as enticing as Vancouver sounds, I can’t handle more change. I need time to get over what happened with Tristan. The whole “I’ll see you when I see you” parting still stings. And the lack of communication makes me question whether I was wrong about him having feelings.

“We’ll happily hold on to you as long as you’d like to stay,” Aggie assures me. “There will be plenty of opportunity for movement inside the firm.”

“Thanks, Aggie. I really like it here.” And I do. I like my colleagues, I like my boss, and the job is dynamic enough to keep me on my toes in a good way. I enjoy financial planning and helping people establish good spending habits and work within a budget or helping someone maximize their investment potential. Is it my passion? No. But for now it’s enough. I need one stable, consistent thing in my life.

I return to my office to finish end-of-the-day paperwork. Beryl, who I share an office with, in addition to Mavis and Burt, hops up from her desk when I walk through the door.

“There was a delivery for you.”

“Really? I didn’t order office supplies.”

“It’s not office supplies.” She clasps and unclasps her hands while pursing and un-pursing her lips.

I frown. “Is it an NSFW delivery or something?” I wouldn’t put it past Hemi and Hammer to send me dick-shaped donuts or cookies to cheer me up. They’re good friends, but sometimes they forget that I don’t work with a team of alpha males who handle sticks and pucks for a living.

“No. It’s on your desk.” Beryl follows me to my cubicle.

I suck in a breath when I see it. Only one person I know would send this kind of gift basket—and to my work, of all places. It’s enormous and ostentatious. And there’s no way I want to open it in front of Beryl. That will only make the contents more visible, and then I’ll have to explain. That’s a big, huge nope. I peel the card free from the cellophane and open the envelope.

Bea,

I’m sorry I was a dick.

I fucking miss you.

Tristan

“Who’s it from?” She stares at me expectantly.

“This guy I was…involved with.” For obvious reasons, I have not told my colleagues I was banging my brother’s best friend who also happens to be a professional hockey player.

She peeks at the basket. “Sort of seems like he still wants to be involved.”

“It does.” Without the note, I might have questioned his motives. As weird as the contents are, the message is clear.

“Do you think he wants to have dinner with you?” She’s obviously fishing.

I can’t blame her. It’s an unusual basket. “That’s a definite possibility.” I turn the basket and scan the contents. “Oh man, I have to take this on the subway.”

“Or you could Uber. Or maybe he’ll pick you up!” That possibility seems to excite her. She reminds me a little of Tally right now.

“He’s working tonight, so probably not.” They have a game this evening. It would be impossible to drive me home and make it to the arena on time.

“He must be a real health nut, eh?” Beryl says.

“Totally.”

I take my basket on the subway. It’s ridiculous and cumbersome, and I get a lot of looks. It’s understandable. Hammer is in the kitchen when I arrive home, which puts a smile on my face. After less than a week of living together, we’ve found a groove. She loves price matching and going through the flyers with me. There’s a grocery store across the street and another one around the block. It’s still about a thirty-minute commute on the subway to my job, but the location and my roommate make it worth it.

“What the hell is that?” Hammer asks as I set the basket on the kitchen table.

My arms ache from holding it. “A gift from Tristan.”

She abandons the carrots she’s slicing into coins.

Her lips pucker. “Was this at the front desk?”

“No. He sent it to my work.”

“How did you get this home? Can we open it?”

“I took it on the subway. And yes, we can open it.”

“Dude. Why didn’t you text me? I would’ve picked you up.”

“The drive is twice as long as the subway ride.” I tear the cellophane wrapping.

“Fucking Tristan.” Hammer shakes her head. “Only he would send you a basket of dick-shaped vegetables as an apology. That’s what this is, right? An apology basket?”

“Yup.” I pass the note card to her.

“He fucking misses you, Rix.” She presses the card to her chest.

“Or he misses fucking me,” I reply. I’m still hurt about the way he left things. There’s being upset and then there’s shitting all over what we had, and that’s exactly what he did. “Damn him and his stupid sense of humor. There are three English cucumbers and a field one.”

Hammer holds up a white, carrot-ish looking vegetable. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a daikon. It’s part of the radish family and would go well in a fresh salad, thinly sliced,” I explain.

“Huh. And this? It looks extra ribbed for no one’s pleasure.” She holds up a green, tubular, warty vegetable.

“It’s a bitter melon from the cucumber family and is used primarily in Chinese cooking. We could add it to a stir fry.”

“Cool.” Hammer is way too excited about this basket. “But I think tonight you have to make cucumber salad with a creamy dill dressing and take a photo to send to him.”

“Oh yeah. That’s a must. We should take videos and send them in stages.”

“Have you thanked him for it yet?” Hammer asks.

“Not yet.”

“But you will, right?”

I sigh.

“Seriously, Rix, just text him. Send him a picture of the basket with an eye roll but send something. You two are miserable without each other. I mean, you’re doing a good job of being fake chipper, but you’re looking at that cucumber with actual longing. And he and Flip got into a fight during practice yesterday, and my dad staged an intervention with Hollis, Dallas, and Ashish.”

“Wait. What? Why didn’t you tell me this until now?”

“Because I found out an hour ago.” She nudges me with her elbow. “Text him. They’re probably still in the locker room.”

I blow out a breath. But she’s right. I should text him. He’s reaching out, and that’s a big deal for Tristan. I replace my phone and see I have a message from my mom asking if we can chat after dinner tonight. I reply with a thumbs-up and give her a time, then scroll down until I reach Tristan’s contact. Rob’s is a few down from his, with unread messages since I muted him weeks ago. I continue to ignore him and snap a pic of the basket.

RIX

You know I have more than one vibrator, right?

I want to unsend it as soon as I press Send, but it’s already done. There are so many other opening lines I should have gone with. I never did get the vibrator I threw at Tristan back. I didn’t need it. When he was away, I took Epsom salt baths to expedite the healing process, so I’d be ready to go to Pound Town when he came home.

My phone rings. I’m so nervous I almost drop it. I also accidentally put it on speakerphone. Hammer slaps her hands over her ears and rushes out of the room as soon as Tristan speaks.

“I didn’t know that, but thanks for arming me with knowledge for the future.”

My chest and my vagina clench at the sound of his voice. I’m still so angry at him, but I miss him, too. “Don’t make me regret my honesty.”

“I will try my best, but we both know I’m the kind of asshole who would use that to my advantage.”

“That’s true. I’ll temper my expectations.”

“It’s really good to hear your voice, Bea,” he says softly.

“I won’t moan for old times’ sake.” I make a noise that isn’t a moan, but it isn’t not a moan. “I’m using humor to deflect a lot of feelings,” I admit.

“I get it. I turn into an asshole when I have feelings.” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to deal with you moving out. I miss you. I want to see you.”

“You want to see me or my vagina?” This time I’m not deflecting. I swallow down the fear that comes with such a bold question.

“You. I miss you. I mean, yes, I miss all the parts of you, too, but I hate how shitty things are without you. Can I take you out? On a date? Tomorrow night maybe? We could go for dinner. Please say yes, Bea. I want to apologize in person. Please give me a chance.”

Hammer gazelle leaps across the room and mouths, Say yes. So much for not eavesdropping.

“Okay. Yes. We can go for dinner.” I need to clear the air and confront him for being such a horrible dick.

“Can I pick you up at seven thirty? At your place?” Tristan asks.

“Yes. My place. Seven thirty. You can pick me up.”

“Great. That’s great. I promise you won’t regret it, Bea. I gotta go. We’re taking the ice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks.” He ends the call without saying goodbye.

“I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous?” My palms are damp, and I hold my arms out so I don’t sweat in my dress. “Is this outfit too much? It’s too much. I should change.”

Hemi steps in front of me to prevent me from making a beeline for my bedroom. “Take a breath, Rix.”

“And a drink.” Hammer hands me a glass of bubbly rosé.

When I try to chug it, she gently pries it out of my hand. I’ve changed my dress three times. I finally settled on an emerald-green satin number with a plunging neckline and ruching. My heels are gold and so is my purse. Hemi helped me with my hair. It’s in an intricate ponytail. On purpose. Tristan is a little obsessed with my neck.

“Little sips, sweetie. We don’t want you on your back before the date even begins.” Hemi squeezes my shoulders. “You’re smokin’ hot. You don’t need to change.”

“You look great,” Tally agrees. “I wish I had a butt like yours.”

“You’re gorgeous,” all three of us say in unison.

Tally opens and closes her mouth a couple of times before she ducks her head and says, “Thanks. A guy I went out with last year told me I have a flat butt.”

“That guy is an idiot. I’m glad you’re not dating him anymore,” I say.

“If you need me to vacate the premises for the night, I can stay at my dad’s,” Hammer offers.

“I’m not sleeping with him tonight.” It comes out sounding like a question.

“You need to do what feels right for you, but considering what he did the last time you had sex, leaving him hanging tonight might be the better move,” Hemi suggests.

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Sex is what got us into this mess; having it tonight won’t solve our problems. Even if it will feel good.

“What happened last time?” Tally asks.

“He came, and she didn’t, which happens sometimes. But she was literally in the middle of an orgasm, and he pulled out and finished on her thighs and left her hanging on purpose,” Hammer explains helpfully.

Tally’s mouth drops open. “Oh my God.”

“Seriously. We are all going to hell for corrupting Tally,” I say.

“At least we’ll be there together,” Hemi reminds us.

“Why are you going out with Tristan again when he did that to you?” Tally looks baffled.

Her confusion is understandable.

“I gave him an hour’s notice that I was moving.”

“You only gave him an hour’s notice?” Hemi seems shocked.

Maybe I failed to share that part. “Yeah, but to be fair, things were pretty tense the week after Flip found out, and he didn’t do much to help smooth things over.” Apart from invite me to sleep in his room when Flip brought home a couple of ladies they’d tag-teamed before. “None of us were talking, and I didn’t want to be responsible for imploding two decades of friendship. Besides, they’re teammates. They needed to be able to sort things out, and it wouldn’t happen with me living there.” I take a deep breath. “I feel like this dinner will be more of a therapy session than anything else. So yeah, jumping back into bed when that’s the reason things went so sideways seems unwise.”

A knock on the door has me panicking all over again. Hammer rushes to open it.

“Oh, hey, Daddy.” She twirls her ponytail around her finger. “Hi, Hollis. What’s up?”

“We thought we’d check in. Tristan mentioned a big date tonight, so I wasn’t sure if you’d be on your own for dinner.” Roman lifts a hand and waves. “I see your girl gang is all here and accounted for.”

“You look nice, Rix.” Hollis gives me the thumbs-up.

“Thanks, Hollis.”

“So do you Peggy, I mean Hammer.” Hollis’s gaze darts to Hammer and then around the room. “You all look nice.” He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them and tucks his thumbs into his pockets.

There’s a collective murmured thanks from the girls.

“You could have texted,” Hammer says.

“We were on our way to the diner and thought we’d extend the invite. You’re all more than welcome to join us. Except you, Rix. I doubt Tristan will be all that inclined to share you.”

“That’s kind of a relief, actually.” The words are out before I think them through.

Hollis coughs into his elbow.

“That’s…yeah.” Roman nods.

Hemi snickers.

Tally looks confused, God bless her.

“Uh, we’re going to hang out and watch Chris Hemsworth movies, but thanks.” Hammer gives her dad an expectant look.

“Okay. Well, you girls have fun tonight.” They can’t seem to leave fast enough.

A minute later there’s another knock on the door. Hammer opens it enough that she can see through the crack. “Geez, Daddy, what now? Oh, hey, Tristan.”

“Daddy?”

“It annoys him,” Hammer explains as she opens the door.

Tristan stands on the threshold dressed in a blue suit. Not navy, but a deep royal blue. His shoes are black and polished. His shirt is pale pink, and his tie matches his shoes. He looks delicious, and I approve.

As soon as his eyes land on me, he strides across the room. He’s holding a bouquet of peonies in one hand. He stops about a foot away. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

His free hand rises, and his fingertips skim the edge of my jaw until his pointer reaches the hollow behind my ear. His thumb follows the line of his fingers in reverse, traveling all the way to my other ear. His palm settles against my throat. He steps in closer until our faces are inches apart and his knee touches my thigh. His eyes are on my lips. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs.

“Wow. That’s some unreal chemistry,” Hammer says.

“Seriously,” Hemi agrees.

“Is he choking her?” Tally whispers.

Tristan drops his hand and steps back. “Sorry. Hi. You look amazing. I brought you flowers.” He thrusts them at me and glances toward the girls, who wear a mix of expressions. Tally looks scandalized, Hemi knowing, and Hammer seems envious.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” I bring them to my nose and inhale. “How did you get up here, anyway?”

“Hollis and Roman were going out as I was coming in. I probably should have texted. I didn’t think everyone would be here.” He gives the girls a constipated smile.

“They’re my support team.”

He bites the inside of his lip. “I don’t know that you needing a support team to get ready for a date with me is a good thing.”

“I’m nervous,” I admit. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. And I’ve never been on a not-secret date with my brother’s best friend who was railing me on the downlow for two months until Flip found out. Just a lot of never-before-experienced variables.”

“That’s legit.” His tongue drags across his bottom lip. “I’m nervous, too. I’m probably better at railing you than I am dating you.”

“You’ve had a lot more practice railing me, so it makes sense you’d be better at it.” I pat his chest. “Should we give this whole date thing a fair shot? You can’t get better at it if you don’t try, right?”

“That’s some good logic.” He glances at the girls, who have taken front-row seats to all this awkwardness. He opens his mouth a couple of times, but nothing comes out.

“We see you, Tristan.” Hemi’s smile is downright evil.

He frowns. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Have a good time! But not too good a time!” Hammer winks.

Tally looks shellshocked. Poor thing. “We’ll put your flowers in water.”

“Thank you.” The girls come in for a hug and whisper words of encouragement.

I grab my purse and usher Tristan out the door.

Being alone with him in an elevator is a test of my restraint. We’re both used to deflecting feelings with sex. Thankfully, another couple joins us, so I don’t have to worry about humping his leg on the ride down. We do the polite, Canadian thing and talk about the weather.

Tristan is parked out front in the ten-minute spot. He opens the passenger door and holds out his hand. I slip mine into his and lift my dress, so it doesn’t get stuck in the door. Once I’m settled, he rounds the hood and drops into the driver’s seat.

His nostrils flare as he inhales. “Fuck, I missed the way you smell.” He runs his hands down his thighs. “Sorry about what I did in front of the girls. I just saw you, and I wasn’t thinking, and I haven’t touched you in a week, and you look amazing, and yeah.”

“You can join me, Hemi, and Hammer in hell for corrupting poor little Tally.”

His eyes flare. “Why? What did you do to Tally? She’s not even eighteen.”

“We didn’t do anything. She’s been around for some NSFW conversations. Anyway…” I wave my hand. “Enough about that. Where are you taking me tonight?” I’m not ready to deal with the heavy stuff, yet.

“It’s called Scaramouche. I’ve never been there, but Dallas and Ashish said it’s a great place to take a date.” He pulls out of the spot and heads for the exit.

He stretches one arm across the back of my seat. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“I missed touching you,” he says.

“I missed you touching me,” I admit.

“How’s the new apartment? How have you been?”

“The new apartment is nice. Having a bedroom with a door obviously has perks, and I have my own bathroom, so I don’t have to worry about falling into the toilet in the middle of the night if I forget to make sure the seat is down.” Yup, we’re avoiding the hard stuff for now.

“Did that happen a lot when you were living with me and Flip?”

“A couple times. Falling into post-drinking pee-water has a way of sticking with you, though.” I tap my temple.

“That’s fucking gross.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Sounds like the move has been good for you. Better than living with me.” His thumb sweeps back and forth along the nape of my neck.

“Living with you had some perks.” I adjust my position so I can look at his profile.

He’s gorgeous. Just so pretty. And so filthy between the sheets. I remind my vagina that we are not letting him near her tonight, not after what happened last time. We need to deal with feelings first.

“And some pretty serious downsides,” he says softly.

I let that go for now. “How are you and Flip? Hammer said you two got into it during practice?”

Tristan frowns. “Haven’t you talked to him?”

“Not really. I’m pretty pissed at him, so I’m waiting on an official apology that isn’t him inviting me out for East Side’s in a text message. If we’re here, I guess you two have resolved your issues?” I motion between us.

“Roman, Hollis, Ashish, and Dallas mediated a conversation after we got into a fight on the ice, so yeah, Flip and I are okay. We did go behind his back for a lot of weeks. And he knows what I’m like.” His grip on the wheel tightens.

“So it’s fine for him to rail everyone else and post about it all over social media, but it’s not okay for his younger sister to get railed by one guy she’s hot for in private? It doesn’t matter if it’s vanilla sex or filthy sex, or anything in between, that’s my prerogative. I understand that he’s upset we went behind his back, but he can’t live in a land of double standards where what he does is okay and what I do isn’t.”

“I think it’s more that he knows I can be aggressive in bed.”

I can’t read his tone or his facial expression. “And if I wasn’t on board, we would not have continued to have sex,” I assure him. “And again, why is it fine for you to be aggressive with other women, but not with me, if it’s what I want? I refuse to be ashamed for liking what I like, even if it’s being fucked with a cucumber and then watching you eat it like a savage.” My thighs clench at the memory. We’re still circling the bigger issues, but one thing at a time.

He squeezes the back of my neck. “We should shift conversation gears if I want to get out of this car without ending up on the front page of the tabloids for rocking a public hard-on.”

“Good point.” Besides, jumping him in a public parking lot would garner a lot of attention neither of us needs. “How do you feel about the upcoming away series?”

He exhales a long, slow breath. “I’ll be starting on second line for the next few games, so not fantastic, to be honest.”

“Because you and Flip duked it out on the ice like man-babies, or because they still want to pull Hollis in the last period to make sure he’s still in peak condition?” I ask.

“More the latter than the former, but I sure didn’t help myself out by fighting with my teammate during practice.”

“Better practice than an actual game.”

“Yeah. Hollis is having a kickass season so far. I know it’s good for the team, but it messes with my head.”

“That’s fair. Hollis was strong in the first two periods last game.”

“You watched?” His eyes flare. “I didn’t know you were at the arena.”

“I wasn’t. We watched from home. Hammer’s worried someone will get wise to their game strategy.”

“One knee injury is bad enough. No one wants to be forced into retirement because of a reinjury.” He pulls into the parking lot adjacent to the restaurant, which ends our conversation.

Tristan hustles around to help me out. I accept his offered hand, but he lets go as soon as I’ve found my footing. I fall into step beside him. He’s used to wearing suits when he travels and before and after games. Most of the time he carries himself with an air of arrogant confidence. But he keeps looking over at me like he’s not sure what to do.

I lift the hem of my dress when we reach the stairs up to the door and use the railing for balance. Halfway up he realizes I’m a few stairs behind and comes back down. “Do you… Can I?” He offers his arm.

“Thank you.” I slip my arm through his.

“Anything for you, Bea.” His fingers replace the small of my back as the doorman holds the entrance open for us.

The host clearly knows who he is and addresses him as Mr. Stiles. We’re led to a private table. This is probably the nicest restaurant I’ve been to. Rob’s family was upper middle-class, so sometimes we’d go for nice dinners, but this beats that by a long shot.

We’re given the option of still or sparkling water, and the server comes by to take our drink order. I choose a glass of white wine and Tristan opts for a beer. That’s his go-to drink of choice when we’ve been at the bar.

He crosses and uncrosses his legs—sets his elbows on the table, then removes them and leans back in his chair.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Good. Why?” He rubs his bottom lip.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look…uncomfortable.”

He taps on the arm of his chair. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date.”

“How long is a long time?”

He pokes at his cheek with his tongue. “Junior year of high school.”

“What about that cooking lesson? Didn’t that count as a date?”

“I mean…I guess, yeah. But before that, not since junior year.”

The server returns with our drinks, and we order the burrata salad and crab cakes to start.

Once the server leaves, I dig back into this interesting and probably uncomfortable conversation. “But you’ve dated women?”

“Sure. Yeah. I guess.” Tristan takes a huge gulp of his beer and then another.

“By dated I mean you’ve spent time with a woman that extended beyond a one-night stand, and you did things together apart from have sex,” I clarify.

“I guess. Does watching movies count?” he asks.

“In a theater or at home?”

“At home.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What about events—did you ever take anyone to one? Like a charity gala or a team thing?”

“Maybe once or twice, but mostly that was for promo ops and mutually beneficial.” His knee bounces under the table.

Clearly this isn’t his favorite topic, which means I want to explore it more. “What about the girl in high school? How long did you date her?”

“Most of junior year.”

“What was her name?”

“Darla Fitzgibbons.”

“Did you go to the same high school?”

He rubs his lip. “Why are you so interested in my dating history?”

“Because you haven’t been on a date since high school, apart from a couple of charity galas. And if they were promo ops, they don’t count. But the high school girlfriend counts, so I’m interested in her and why you went out with her for so long.”

“Mostly because her parents worked long hours so we could go to her place after school or practice and have sex.”

“That’s the only reason you dated for a year? It must have been some great sex.” I’m needling him on purpose.

“She was nice. And smart. And fun to be around for the most part,” he offers somewhat grudgingly.

“Why did you break up?” I sip my wine.

“Because I couldn’t give her more and hockey took up too much of my time,” he replies. “I don’t know that much has changed.”

“Well, we’re here, doing this thing you don’t normally do, so I think that counts as personal growth. And you play hockey for a living, so it makes sense that it takes up a lot of your time,” I say.

“I had a hard time getting close to people after my mom left. I still do,” he says softly.

Now we’re getting somewhere. “That must have been really difficult for you and your brothers and your dad.” I want to reach out and touch his hand, but I don’t know how receptive he’ll be to contact meant to comfort. I don’t think it’s something he’s used to, and I don’t want to give him a reason to shut this conversation down yet.

“I came home when she was leaving.” He focuses on his beer glass. “It was super random that day. I was supposed to go to your house after school, but Flip hadn’t been feeling well. He’d caught the flu, so I went home instead and found her throwing her suitcases into the car. She was just gonna disappear. I mean, she did just disappear on Brody and Nathan. They came home an hour later, and she was gone. I had to tell them. And my dad.”

This time I do reach across the table and cover his hand with mine. No wonder he never talks about his mom. No wonder relationships are hard for him. “I’m so sorry, Tristan. That must have been awful for you.”

“I thought maybe she would come back, but she never did.” He shakes his head. “Why the hell am I talking about this? You don’t want to hear this shit. I gotta use the bathroom.” He pulls his hand away and pushes his chair back. He strides across the room and disappears down the hall.

I want to chase after him. To hug him. To tell him she never should have made him shoulder that responsibility. That his mother is a horrible coward and he deserved so much better. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Tristan over the past few months, it’s that when he feels anything uncomfortable, making him confront it causes him to shut down.

And this explains his anger when I told him I was moving, and I only gave him an hour. I left him. Without warning. Just like his mom. Of course his reaction was to lash out and shut down.

Our appetizers arrive while he’s gone, and I half expect him not to come back. But two minutes later he returns, sliding into his seat like nothing happened.

This little glimpse into the fall of his family makes me see him differently. I wasn’t wrong about him still being that hurt little boy hiding inside a closed-off man.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, sorry I left you on your own like that. I don’t really talk about that stuff. It’s too hard.” He sets his napkin in his lap. “Which one do you want to start with? You eat half and I’ll eat half and then we can trade?”

I let it be for now. “I’ll start with the crab cakes, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, for sure.” He sets the plate in front of me, then moves the burrata salad in front of him.

We’re both quiet for the first couple of bites. The crab cakes are decadent and delicious. The flavors burst on my tongue.

“You need to try this.” I slide my fork through the tender meat and lean in so I can offer it to Tristan. “It’s literally the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“Really? The best?” He gives me a cocky grin as his fingers wrap around my wrist. His plush lips close around the tines, pulling the bite free. He chews thoughtfully. “It’s good. But you taste infinitely better.”

“You’re not getting in my panties tonight,” I warn him.

“I know.” He peeks up at me. “Doesn’t mean I can’t think about it. Or fantasize aloud.”

“Is that your attempt to wear me down?”

He lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “Mostly I’m grateful you said yes to seeing me.” He cuts a small piece of tomato, fresh basil, and burrata, and drags his fork through the oil-balsamic reduction. He lifts it to my mouth.

His eyes spark as he watches the fork disappear into my mouth.

I let my eyes flutter closed and moan as I chew. On purpose, of course.

“It’s gonna be a while before I get to hear that sound for the right reasons, isn’t it?” Tristan asks softly.

“You weren’t very nice last time, so yeah.” No point in pretending I’m over how that ended.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick.” He cuts another bite but doesn’t make a move to eat it.

“Do you want to explain why you were?”

“I knew you would move out eventually. I just didn’t expect it to happen like it did. I thought maybe you needed space after Flip found out. I didn’t want to make things worse, and then you were packing and I couldn’t stop you from leaving me,” he admits.

His phrasing is everything, I realize. “To be fair, you had an entire week to talk to me about Flip replaceing out and how you wanted to deal with it.” If we’re ever going to move past this, he has to own how awful he was, and I need him to understand that I can’t allow that to happen, not ever again.

He sips his beer, then takes a hefty gulp. “I did try.”

“To get me into bed. Not to talk,” I point out.

“That night Flip brought those two women home, I said you could sleep in my room, though.” His knee is bouncing again.

“You didn’t correct me when I asked if you planned to drown out their moans with mine.” My stomach twists uncomfortably. I desperately want him to open up, to give me something to work with. To show me he cares enough to try, even if it makes him uncomfortable.

He looks like he wants to bolt. His gaze darts to the side, and his fingers go to his lips. He looks like a scared boy, not a badass hockey player. “If that was what you wanted, I would have done that. But that wasn’t how I meant it. I didn’t want you to have to listen and think about how I’d been involved the last time. I didn’t want that shoved in your face.”

“Why didn’t you say that, then?”

“I started to, but you were so upset with me.” He pushes a piece of tomato around his plate. “You were always going to leave. I didn’t want you to. But if I asked you to stay and you said no… I couldn’t handle that. And I would fuck things up again eventually. I always do.”

It’s heartbreaking the way he holds on to blame, like everything was his fault. Like he’s the problem, when really the whole thing was doomed from the start.

“You didn’t even give it a chance, Tristan. You told Flip all we were doing was fucking.”

“Because that’s what we agreed on.” His jaw works. He looks so uncomfortable.

“But was it the truth?” I ask.

He shakes his head. His gaze lifts, and his voice is barely a whisper. “I have feelings for you. And not just I-want-to-fuck-you feelings. I have a lot of those, but I have other feelings, too.”

“You were awful to me when I moved out.”

He drops his head and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You treated me like I meant nothing to you.”

His swallow is audible. “You were leaving me, and I couldn’t get you to stay. It hurt, and I couldn’t handle it.”

“So you hurt me back?”

His head snaps up, and his eyes go wide.

I hold up a hand. “Not physically. With your actions and your words. You were cruel.”

He drops his head again. “I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.”

“It’s about more than that, Tristan. You discarded me. You treated me like I meant nothing to you, and it gutted me. It wasn’t just about the sex. It was how easily you turned off your feelings. You made me feel used. Do you understand how awful that was? You can’t do that to me again. Not ever. I won’t stand for it. I deserve better.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and do that differently.” He wrings his hands, then hides them under the table. “I hated myself for what I did and how I acted. Everything was changing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But I care about you, Bea. A lot. More than I know what to do with sometimes. It scares the shit out of me.”

And there he is, that broken boy I’ve come to know well. “I care about you, too.”

“Yeah?” The way his face brightens with hope makes my chest ache.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Good. That’s good.” He fidgets with his fork. “I, uh, I was hoping you’d want to do more of this after tonight.” He motions between us and almost knocks his glass over.

“More talking and dinners?” I won’t make this easy for him.

“Yeah. Exactly. We don’t always have to go out for dinner, though. We can hang out and not just naked hanging out. But we could do that, too. Whenever you’re ready.”

“So you want to go on dates?”

“If you do, yeah.”

The table is jiggling like there’s a low-level earthquake happening under it. For as cocky as he is in the bedroom and on the ice, he’s definitely unsure of himself off of it.

“We can go on more dates.”

“Yeah?” His eyes light up, and my heart clenches.

“Yeah.”

We spend the rest of dinner talking about the upcoming games, and my job, and how he misses hanging out with me in the kitchen while I prep food and all the other little things he’d gotten used to with me living there.

At the end of the night, Tristan offers me his arm as we go down the stairs. He opens the car door and helps me with my dress. Instead of dropping me off at the front door, he parks and walks me to the elevators.

“I’m not inviting you in tonight,” I inform him as we get in the elevator.

He nods. “I know. I want to make sure you get in okay. And I want every minute I can get with you.” He leans against the mirrored-glass railing as we ascend, and I fidget with my purse strap. The doors open, and he laces our hands as we walk down the hall.

“I had a nice time tonight. Thank you for dinner, and the flowers, and for opening up.”

“I…I know I’m bad at it, but I’m trying to be better. For you.” His bottom lip slides through his teeth. “Thank you for agreeing to a date.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Would it be okay if I hug you? Please?”

I nod, and he wraps his arms around me. He presses his face against my neck and shamelessly sniffs me. “I missed you so much, Bea. So fucking much.”

“I missed you, too.” I rest my cheek against his chest. “Especially this version of you.”

He holds me for a long time. Eventually he pulls back, swallowing thickly. “I know I’m probably pushing it, and maybe you’re not ready yet, but can I kiss you good night?”

My heart clenches—hell, everything clenches. “I would like that.”

“Cheek or…” He trails off.

I tap my lips.

His fingertips drift from my temple to my chin, and he tenderly cups my cheek. He tips my head back and lowers his mouth to mine, just a soft brush of lips at first. His arm winds around my waist, pulling me against him as he angles his head and I do the same. I part my lips, and his tongue strokes inside on a quiet groan. I grip the lapels of his suit jacket, whimpering as my body warms and I feel his erection against my stomach. He adjusts his grip, and his palm settles against my throat. But still, the kiss is soft. An apology. A promise of what could be. I’m afraid to hope for more than this. But I want to try. I want to see what this can be outside of the secret bubble we were living in.

He ends the kiss before it grows heated and brushes his nose against mine. “Thank you. I’ll do everything I can to deserve you.” He pulls me in for another long hug.

I melt into him. Into possibility. Into what this might become.

Eventually he pulls back. “Can I see you again soon?”

“I’d like that.” His smile is so boyishly charming, I almost invite him in so I can sit on his face.

“Can I call you tomorrow?”

“That’d be great.”

“Night, Beatrix.” He kisses my hand and steps back.

“Night, Tristan.” I manage to get inside the apartment without pulling him along with me. My vagina is confused, but my heart is happy.