Hooking - Kristine Allen Page 0,19

in the direction of Sydney’s seat, but she was gone. The entire time the coaches were praising us, through my rushed shower, and in my quick exit from the stadium, I wondered if she’d be waiting.

It had been a month of sexually frustrating moments. Every interaction I had with Sydney for the foundation, she ensured we weren’t alone. Anytime I tried her office, the door was locked—she was either out or hiding from me.

When I got out to my car, I was unsurprised but disappointed that she wasn’t leaning against my vehicle. Despite how irrational my thoughts were, I found myself bummed by the fact that she wasn’t there. As if she’d know which vehicle was mine and be able to get access to the lot we parked in. As if she’d be there at all. I thought that her being at the game meant something.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

“You want to go grab a beer?” McGregor shouted from over by his truck. Normally, I would’ve said sure, but we had an early flight in the morning to Nashville for our first of three away games. It was a five-day road trip with the last game in Pittsburgh before we headed home.

“Nah, I’m beat. Plus, I still need to pack and shit.” He raised a brow at me but didn’t say anything. It’s not like we packed much for the road, and he knew it. I did need to get all of Victor’s shit ready, though. He was going to stay with Cooper while I was gone. I’d taken him back to Minnesota with me over the summer, and this stretch would be the first time he would really be alone. I didn’t want him tearing up my shit if he got pissed.

During the drive home, my thoughts returned to Sydney. What had she been doing at the game? Had she been there to watch me play? Then an uncomfortable thought found its way into my head. What if the reason she’d been adamant that we couldn’t see each other was because she was already seeing one of my teammates?

Not all of us went home for the entire off-season. Some of the guys had families nearby.

Fucking hell. Why hadn’t I asked her if she was seeing someone?

Because your ego wouldn’t let you consider it. That small voice in my head pissed me off.

After parking in the garage, I let myself into the house. Victor was yelling at me as soon as the door closed. He’d obviously missed me.

I crouched down to pet him.

“Hey, buddy. How’s my boy? You gonna be good for Uncle Coop?” I snickered at calling him Uncle Coop. Especially because I doubted I’d have kids for a long damn time. The thought of leaving my kid for stretches at a time didn’t sit well with me.

My phone rang, and I stood, much to Victor’s displeasure.

“Hey, Dad,” I answered.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be home yet. That was a great game, son!” His praise had me grinning as my chest puffed out.

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Looks like you have a good starting lineup going. I really liked the look of Halvorson this year. And I think you’re right about Novacek. He brings experience and maturity to your line, and you seem to work well together.” I snorted when he mentioned Halvorson.

“Yeah, now if Halvorson could stay off my ass when we aren’t on the ice.” There was a brief moment of silence.

“Alex. There will always be players that test you. You won’t always be friends with everyone on your team. But setting those differences aside to play as a strong unit is what makes a good player great. I have faith in you.” My dad was full of wisdom, and I valued his opinion. He had a good head on his shoulders. It’s what had made him a great player and an even greater coach.

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

“You leave tomorrow for Nashville, then Boston?” he asked.

“Yeah, then we’re off Monday, and then in Pittsburgh,” I replied with Victor rubbing against my legs. He let out a disgruntled meow.

Dad chuckled. “Is that Victor?”

“Yeah. Demanding little shit.” I reached down to pacify the big brat. I’d never considered myself a cat guy before, but Victor was different. He was a cool cat—a big-ass cat.

“Well, give him some treats from me. Good luck in the away games, son. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks again. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, son.”

We ended the call, and I kicked off my shoes. After