Holdout: A Moo U Hockey Romance Read online

  I cleared my throat and shifted in my chair, needing the extra second to figure out what to say. Her gaze never wavered, even though I expected some emotion from her, like pity or disgust. After all, what mom left her son without a word? Still, she looked on with curiosity.

  “So, can we talk about telling your brother, please?”

  She nodded, and a troubled look entered her eyes. “I feel like I should share something since you did, you know?”

  “Sure,” I replied, leaning toward her. It surprised me how much I wanted to figure out her secrets, her past, her real reason for leaving the dorms. “If it involves why you still haven’t told your brother, then yes.”

  Her face tightened, and I regretted saying that last bit. But she had to know the continued lie was causing all sorts of anxiety for me.

  “Michael is my best friend, but there is this blurred line of him trying to act like my parent and not be an idiot older brother.” She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and blinked a few times. “He’s going to be pissed I didn’t come to him for a solution, plus the fact I didn’t tell him about the drugs and alcohol. He’d have wanted to help me, to give me money or something, and he needs to worry about his own damn self.”

  “So it’s pride?”

  “And concern,” she said, her voice getting stronger. “He’s going to give up his dreams and goals to try and take care of me. I refuse to let that happen, so I have to prove to him, and myself really, that I can do this alone. He can’t make decisions for me.”

  My tension loosened at her words, and something warm and sticky formed in my chest. She wanted to prove her independence to help her brother. “I see.”

  “I’m not trying to cause you issues on the team, J.D.,” she said, giving me a sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I want to settle into this new job, save a little bit, and then tell him.”

  “I will…try to understand that.” I gulped. “When do you imagine you’ll feel ready?”

  Her grin grew, and the sight made me feel a little better. “Was it hard asking that question all polite?”

  “Yes, a bit.”

  She snorted. “This week. I’m finalizing my work schedule for the month, and I’ll feel more secure knowing that’s settled.”

  This week. Good.

  “How will you tell him? I can’t imagine it’ll be an easy breezy conversation.”

  Her eyes got as wide as the leftover dinner plate on the counter. “Easy breezy? Wow, J.D. look at you being all casual.”

  My lip curved up before I could stop it. “Shut up.”

  She laughed with me, not at me, and it felt good. Really good.

  “He knows me well enough to understand I don’t get involved with hockey players, so when I tell him about the name mix-up, I’m hoping he’ll think it’s funny.” Her cheeks reddened, and she looked down at the table instead of my face.

  Now my own curiosity piqued. “Involved?”

  She grinned again, scrunching her nose in the process, but it felt like a knock-off version of the smile I’d seen before. “He doesn’t need to worry about us having a sordid affair or anything.”

  It took a few seconds for me to process her words and their meaning. When they clicked, I clenched my fist around my pencil as anger bubbled up. “Do you think he’ll be worried I’m going to hit on your or something? That would never happen.”

  The openness in her clear, sky-blue eyes faded at my words, and she sat up straighter. My heart lodged in my throat at her expression, and for the life of me, I wasn’t sure why I’d said it so aggressively. Probably because I’d thought about putting my mouth on her body.

  She spoke again, but her voice lost the softness it had moments ago. “My point exactly. He has nothing to worry about.” She slid out of the chair and walked to a cabinet, grabbing a box of Pop-Tarts from the top shelf. The movement caused her sweatshirt to ride up, exposing a sliver of her lower back, and I darted my gaze away as heat filled my face.

  I told the girl I would never hit on her, yet here I was, getting flustered over her lower back. And not any girl. My teammate’s sister. A guy who made or broke the chemistry on the team. A leader on the ice. Michael was liked and respected, and everyone would follow his lead. This was not good. Putting my head down, I forced myself to read the same line in the text three times, hoping it would stick.

  Her soft footsteps moved toward the living room, and I glanced at her as she bit into the Pop-Tart and walked into her bedroom. I should feel better.

  She said her brother might find it funny, yet the unsettled feeling in my chest had me standing up and heading in her direction. The conversation ended without warning, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be done talking to her. When I got to her door, I spotted her sitting on her bed, her legs crisscrossed. She lifted her gaze from her phone to me.

  Surprise registered for a second before she tilted her head. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for telling me about…why you haven’t talked to Michael yet. Thanks for, uh, sharing it with me.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  She narrowed her eyes, paralyzing me in the doorway. Was she mad? Angry? Upset? I had no idea, and scratching the back of my neck didn’t help me figure it out.

  “Look, Ryann,” I said, realizing I hadn’t used her name out loud since the first moment we met. “You don’t have to find a new place. We can figure this out once you tell him.”

  She bit the side of her lip, and her jaw tightened. She took a shaky breath and leveled her gaze at me. So much emotion swirled in her eyes that I couldn’t look away if I tried. Then, she nodded. “Good. You’re not the only one searching for something, Jonah. Our goals might be different, but I’m no less motivated than you are.”

  “What’s your goal?” I tried thinking about what she shared and couldn’t figure out her endgame. To be independent, sure, but was that it?

  “Ah, that is personal.” Fire flared behind her eyes, and a mixture of respect and curiosity had me taking one step into her room. Her gaze zeroed in on my feet, and I immediately backtracked.

  “I’ll call the landlord tomorrow and add your name to the contract so you can sign it. I hope that’ll make you feel more secure.”

  “Thank you.” Her tone was clipped, but her entire body sagged with relief.

  I was so sick of pity and wanted someone to listen. Maybe it was how small and cute she looked in the stupid sweatshirt, the fact her toenails were a different color than the day before, or even how she didn’t look at me with pity. Maybe one of those reasons was why I opened my mouth and said the words I never spoke aloud to another person since my ex—who told me to calm down.

  “I’m the reason my mom traded our family in for another.”

  Her gaze sharpened, and she leaned toward me, the hand holding her Pop-Tart freezing midair. “Why would you think that?”

  “She hated hockey.”

  “Okay, so?” She rolled her eyes, like I was a child spouting off nonsense. “A mother leaving her family because she dislikes something doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

  Her words seemed to pierce the air, a knife stabbing through with her sharpness.

  I gulped and found my nerve, the secret desperate to rush out. “She was tired of spending all her time and money for me to chase my dream. The last two years before coming here, she refused to go to games, claiming she needed to be herself again. Something she apparently did with my best friend’s married dad.”

  “Jonah,” she said, the edge of her voice dulling as she slid off the bed and stood at the side. “That’s so fucked up.”

  I barked out a laugh, devoid of real amusement, but it felt good to release the pent-up breath. “Yeah, it really is.”

  She didn’t say anything, just shook her head with her lip curled up in disgust. What threw me for a loop was the fact she was on my side of this. The relief of hearing someone agree that my mom was awful and there wasn’t something wrong with me was intoxicating. When I told my high school girlfriend, she said
I was overreacting. People divorced all the time.

  Forgive your mom for wanting her own life. Don’t be an asshole.

  I shook my head to get rid of thoughts of her and focused on Ryann. I needed to know if she truly understood. That was the only reason I continued. “Apparently all the women in my life leave over hockey. My high school girlfriend dumped me the day after we graduated because she was sick of my hockey obsession. This was after we both made plans to come here together.”

  Her chest moved as she studied me, and understanding relaxing her face as she smiled. “I know the perfect thing to help. Want some popcorn?”

  My mouth dropped open. I was confused at her sudden change of topic.

  “Wait. What?”

  “These Pop-Tarts aren’t doing it for me, and I want something salty. Come on, let’s have a Wednesday night snack.”

  “I read on Wednesdays,” I said, trying to find balance in the conversation. She took hold of the reins, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. “It’s my routine.”

  “Okay, are you allowed to snack? Do you pencil that in there? You can read, and I can make fun of you. It’ll be our thing.” She smirked as she walked up to me, jutting her chin for me to move. I stepped out of her way, trying not to enjoy how good she smelled. It was the same florally, sweet scent that lingered in our place now.

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “Yes, J.D.” Her smile widened, showing all her teeth with the smallest gap between the two front ones. It wasn’t noticeable at first. Our proximity granted me an up close view to the light freckles on her nose, the bits of yellow flecks in her eyes, and the mole right under the left eye that made me itch to touch it. The longer I studied her, the more her lips curved down.

  “You’re mad,” she said.

  Her brief joy evaporated, and I shook my head, hard. “No. I’ve never had popcorn for zero reason, and you blurted it out after I shared something personal.”

  “One does not need a reason for popcorn, bud. Making food for people is how I take care of them, okay? You shared a personal part about you, so now I’m going to feed you.” She clapped her hands and pointed to the table. “Study. Read. Schedule times to take a breath or shower. I don’t care, but you will enjoy homemade popcorn because I’m so mad at your mom, and I need to busy my hands.”

  Despite all the reasons I should insist on saying no, I nodded. My face heated at her answering smile, and it made no sense why my heart started beating a bit faster.

  It was just a smile.

  5

  Ryann

  Sympathy played a weird role in my life. I was on the receiving end of it after our parents died, leaving Michael and me alone in the world, and what drove me mad was the looks. The whispers. The touches without permission. I cringed, imagining all the hugs and the hands people put on my shoulder.

  Ugh.

  But I got why people felt the emotion. Even after saying goodnight and leaving Jonah to finish his Wednesday Reading, I couldn’t stop thinking about his story. His mom choosing to leave him was different than her dying, for sure, but her abandoning him and his dad was still tragic and made my chest hurt for him.

  The one thing our neighbors, our parents’ co-workers, our teachers, and friends did that helped was bring meals. We always had food at the house. It was a simple yet wonderful gesture, and an idea formed as I tossed and turned before falling asleep.

  I woke up, yawned for a full minute, and eyed the clock. Six a.m. My first class was at eight, so I had plenty of time to cook and shower. Without making much noise, I started coffee, cracked some eggs, and made sure to not leave a trace of mess anywhere.

  “What are you doing?” Jonah walked out of his room, the hard lines of his face soft from sleep, and whoa, his morning voice was somehow deeper.

  “Making scrambled eggs.” I picked up the spatula and used it to direct him to the chair. “I put too many in here for me to eat. Want some?”

  He scratched his head, bringing up the dark blue T-shirt an inch to expose his stomach. My tongue seemed to get stuck on the roof of my mouth. I quickly took a sip of coffee, blaming the early morning on why my mouth got dry. He was an athlete who took care of his body. It was normal to appreciate hard muscles on anyone.

  “Sure?” He frowned and sat in the same chair he did the night before, his eyes blazing with questions.

  But he wouldn’t ask them. He was too private and focused. Asking a question would distract him from his plan.

  When the eggs cooked, I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest, hoping I looked relaxed. “So, reading is for Wednesdays. What’s your Thursday game plan? Crosswords?”

  His nostrils flared twice before the realization hit him. “You’re teasing again.”

  “Sixty percent teasing, forty percent I actually want to know.”

  He cleared his throat and put all that intense focus on my face. Being the sole recipient of his attention made my breath catch in my throat. I could only imagine how his opponents felt when he stared them down.

  “I spend less time at the gym since games will be Fridays and Saturdays once the season starts. I watch old games in the afternoon and do homework in the evening after practice.” He rubbed his pointer finger and thumb together, and it wasn’t the first time I noticed it. Whenever I asked questions, he did the same gesture.

  The eggs sizzled, so I turned my back to him, pushing them around the pan so they didn’t burn. It was easier to talk when I didn’t see his very handsome face. “What are your Fridays?”

  “Game days.”

  “Not for another five weeks,” I said, looking at him over my shoulder. I sucked in a breath when I noticed his gaze was very much still on me. Just not on my face. My legs.

  He sighed and dragged his attention up my body to my face. “What do you do for fun?”

  I blinked in shock. He asked me a question and might’ve been checking out my legs. Had to be a full moon or mercury in retrograde type thing going on. “Watch TV, hang with my brother, go out with a few friends. I’m more of an introvert, actually.”

  “Do you go to parties?”

  My eyebrows about disappeared into my hairline. “Have I gone to them? Yes. Do I go a lot? No.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why don’t you go to parties? You don’t play a sport.”

  Annoyance dripped down my spine at his tone. I took a beat to think about how to respond and put the eggs on our plates. I might’ve set the dishes on the table harder than necessary as I pushed his toward him, but he studied me with his eyebrows furrowed, like he really wanted to know my answer.

  “What does going to parties have anything to do with playing a sport?”

  “The risk. The risk is too high for me.” He released a long breath and picked up the fork. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome,” I replied, finally understanding the intention of his question. “Parties are fun, sure. The music, the flirting, the laughter. Having a few drinks and making dumb decisions. But to me, they seemed like a temporary escape that never really provided what I was missing. So, you say the risk is too high because you’re an athlete, but it’s there for me too.”

  “How?”

  “I’m here on an academic scholarship. My grades can’t slip. I can’t slip. My parents left us some money but not enough to allow me to stay.” I took a bite and waited, the urge to squirm under his stare lessening the more we sat together. He was intimidating, sure, but this wasn’t an act. Jonah was really an intense guy.

  “You lost both your parents,” he said, not a question but a statement.

  “Yes.” I gulped as the familiar wave of grief washed over me, gripping my heart for a few seconds. “They died in a car accident two years ago. It’s only me and Michael now.”

  I didn’t know how it was possible, but his face set even harder to stone. It was like someone froze time, preventing him from moving at all. He didn’t blink.

  �
�I’m sorry,” he choked out, tilting his head down as his shoulders slumped. “I remember hearing guys on the team talking about what happened but…Shit, I should’ve never complained about my mom leaving to you.”

  “Why?” I fired back.

  “Because what you’ve gone through is so much worse.” He met my eyes again, anguish swirling in his hazel orbs. “I’m so sorry, Ryann. I didn’t realize. I’m an idiot.”

  “Thank you.”

  He ate his eggs quickly, barely taking a breath before he finished. He got up, rinsed the dish, put it in our dishwasher, and placed his hands on his hips.

  I continued eating, clearly not in a rush to escape our shared meal. He opened his mouth, closed it, and pressed his lips together in a firm line.

  “Say it, Jonah. Whatever you’re holding back, just say it.” My tone came out more annoyed than intended, but I didn’t regret it. We could be friends and enjoy rooming together, but even as I had the thought, it disappeared. He didn’t seem the type.

  “Have you been to a party at the hockey house?”

  “Yes.” Okay, I was intrigued. “Why?”

  “The guys want me to go.”

  “Then do it?” I waved my hand in the air.

  He rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are you going?”

  “I don’t even know when it is, and I might have to work the next morning. So, doubtful.”

  “Saturday night,” he blurted out too fast. His cheeks had a bit of red on them, and his chest moved faster than normal. Jonah was nervous.

  “Are you asking me out?” I said, before thinking the sentence through. He’d made his thoughts on me very clear—we would never happen.

  “What?” He took a step back, his movements awkward and nothing like the god he was on the ice. He was smooth, fast, and a beast. It was intimidating in a thrilling sort of way. Not like this, self-conscious and weird.

  “No. No.”

  Obviously, Ryann. Don’t be a moron.

  “Then why are you getting all anxious asking me about the hockey party?”

  “Because I don’t want to go, okay? Parties aren’t my scene, but the older guys said I needed to have an outlet, do something besides work out and watch tapes. I thought maybe, I don’t know, if you’re going, I could tag along. You know them, and they like you.” He ran a hand over his face and let out an unhappy groan.