Clipped by Love (Bellevue Bullies #2) (32 page)

“A
re you alive?”

Peeking one eye out of the blanket, I groan as the sunlight hits my face. “I don’t think so.”

Dad chuckles as he sits on the bed, rubbing my back. “Wild night, eh?”

“Wild twenty-one minutes, you mean?”

He laughs at that. “Lightweight.”

“I don’t ever drink,” I complain, and he continues to laugh. “Shut up.”

Smacking my butt, he says, “Okay, I’ll let you be, but I want you to open something first. Do you need to puke again?”

Glaring at him, I start to sit up, still feeling a bit queasy. “Not funny.”

“Poor Sinclair, I can’t believe you puked all over him.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I say with a shake of my head. “He’s gonna give me shit for weeks.”

“Probably,” he agrees as I sit fully up. Looking over at his hands, I see he is holding a picture and a ring box.

“What’s that?”

“Your birthday gift,” he says, handing it to me. Looking at the picture, despite how shitty I feel, I grin. It’s me as a newborn nuzzled in the Stanley Cup. “I thought long and hard when the right moment would be to give you this. I thought your eighteenth birthday, but I didn’t think you’d want that yet. Now, though, I think you do.”

I open the ring box, and in it is his Bruins Stanley Cup ring. Gasping, I run my finger along the many diamonds that make up the famous Bruins symbol, completely breathless. I’ve seen my daddy wear this ring every day of my whole life, and he’s giving it to me?

“Daddy? Really?”

“Yeah, Little 50, it’s yours. Happy birthday,” he says and then kisses my temple. “No matter what, you’re a champion in my eyes.”

Looking back at him, I beam. I want to make my dad proud, more than anything. But looking in his eyes, maybe I already have? Maybe I’m too worried about winning, and I just need to enjoy my younger years. I mean, I almost missed out on having a blast last night. But then I look down at his ring, and…I know I’m not. He never stopped worrying about winning, he worked his ass off, and now he is able to give this to me on my twenty-first birthday. I have to remember the end goal and that’s to bring a ring of my own home to my dad.

And that means I gotta ignore Jayden. He’s gonna mess me up. He’s gonna ruin my end game because I’m starting to care. I can’t care for him. I just can’t. Caring for a guy makes a girl stupid, and I won’t do that.

Blinking back the tears, I look over at him. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my darling,” he says, kissing me again.

Moving my finger along the ring, I take it out of the case and slide it on my finger. Of course, it doesn’t fit, but it’s such a rush to have on. “I can’t wait to have my own. Earned by my team.”

“Me neither,” he says softly as I smile. “When you look at that, always remember how awesome you are. Don’t ever doubt your greatness, Bay.”

I nod as I put the ring back in the case. Looking over at him, I ask, “Dad, do you feel like the captain position is mine?”

He looks up from the ring and meets my gaze. “Why do you ask? You know I haven’t decided yet. Tomorrow, I’ll know.”

“I know, but sometimes I think you know Sinclair was made for the position.”

He nods. “I do know that.”

“So it won’t be mine?”

He shrugs. “Give me a reason tomorrow to choose you, and it’s yours.”

“The guys don’t respect me the way they do him,” I say softly and sadly. “They love him.”

“And they’ll love you, once you actually try. You’ve been closed up, and I really don’t understand it. You’re actually a really nice girl, but there is something about Sinclair that makes you crazy, and you two are basically cats and dogs.”

My mouth pulls up at the side as I nod. “He gets under my skin. I hate that he respects me, but also knows he can beat me. It drives me insane.”

“That’s the kind of guy you want as a friend,” he supplies, and I shrug.

The only problem is, I don’t want him as a friend. I want more, but that scares me.

He scares me.

I don’t say that though. Instead, I say, “Yeah, maybe.”

Smacking my leg, he says, “Okay, well, you get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I agree as I go to move under my blanket, but then he pauses at my door. “Oh yeah, there was a package on the front stoop for you.”

“Huh?” I ask as he disappears and then comes back with a big case of what I’m pretty sure is mustard.

“Yeah, some weirdo sent you a box of mustard. I think it might be Delanie, and if it is, tell her thank you. At least now I won’t get yelled at when I forget it,” he jokes as he lays the box on the ground before handing me the note. Confused but amused by the gift, I tear the card open.

And find that it isn’t from Delanie.

Princess,

You owe me a shirt.

And I’ll go out on a limb and say a kiss, preferably when you haven’t been puking.

I wanted to get you something better, but all I know about you is that you have walls that are hard to get through and you like mustard.

Maybe you should give me something more to work with?

Happy Birthday,

Sinclair.

When I lay the card down, I’m grinning like a girl who just got asked to the prom by the gorgeous, popular jock. No one has ever given me something like this. But within seconds, my grin disappears. Because as I look down at the case of mustard, I think it might be the sweetest gift anyone has ever gotten me, and it could possibly be my favorite.

Which would make me the worst daughter in the world.

And also tells me that I’m in trouble.

Because I want to let Jayden in.

M
y heart is thumping in my chest.

My palms are clammy.

And I’m sweating like a whore in church.

Today is the day.

I did my best to stuff the sweet gift and letter from Jayden in the corner of my mind. But when he came on the ice, looking all hot and big, taking up all the air in the rink with that unstoppable grin of his, everything inside me went to mush. I just don’t understand this pull he has on me. The easy way he has of making me turn into a complete idiot. It’s insane, but then I remember what I want, so I smack myself mentally and tell myself that we mean business.

Today is the day I get captain.

No, if, ands, or buts about it! It’s mine.

When he skates up beside me, he’s closer than normal, and I try to step to my right. But McCarthy is there, so I stay where I am. I’d rather deal with the heat Jayden causes then the ice-cold chills McCarthy causes. He is trouble. And not the good kind.

“Hey.”

Not looking at Jayden, I say, “Hey.”

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Just fine,” I say sharply.

I can feel his gaze on me, but I ignore it. I can’t let him know that he is making me feel shit. Stupid little rainbow feelings that I shouldn’t be feeling.

Dumb boy.

“Aw, are you doing that thing where you act like I don’t exist?”

I am, but I won’t tell him that because then he’ll know he is getting to me.

I shrug. “I’m focused. Got to get my position today.”

He scoffs, which only makes me glare. “You’re something, man. The least you can do is say thank you or that you’re sorry for puking on me.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I ignore him as my dad starts to talk.

“I’ve pushed and stressed how important endurance is. We’ve run, we’ve done drills, and I think everyone has puked but Sinclair.”

“Iron stomach,” he says, and Dad grins while everyone chuckles, but I glare more.

I’ve thrown up twice during damn camp.

“That being said, today is the ultimate test,” Coach says before dropping the stool he’s holding and laying down his iPad. “We will skate until you can’t skate anymore. When I was in Game Three of the Cup finals, we went to four overtimes. That’s one hundred and forty minutes of play. I puked God knows how many times in a trainer’s hands and all behind the bench. I was dead, I was done for, but I went out every shift and I worked my ass off, and I scored the game-winning goal that game. Which was the start of our comeback.”

He pauses and lets that sink in. My whole life when I feel like I’m gonna fail or that I am done for, I always think of that story. My dad is pretty inspirational, and if he can do it, I can.

“Drive. Persistence. Determination. Tenacity. Those are just some of the things you need to win, but most of all, you need endurance. You can’t gas out after five minutes, and if you do, you’re done here,” he says in a strong and steady voice. “I have to cut some of you, and I have to pick our captains. Show me you deserve the spot you want, and if you are the first eight off my ice, go straight to the locker room and leave. You’re done.”

Everyone looks around, and I can see the fear in some of their eyes. I have a pretty good feeling which eight are out, but you never know. They could have more drive than someone else and last. We will see.

“Except for my goalies, the ninth one off is the third string and so on. Show me you want it, boys and Moore. Otherwise, stop wasting my time. I hope you boys ate your Wheaties because it’s time.”

He then blows the whistle and swings his arm around in a circle, which means laps. Everyone drops their gloves but me.

“Oh, no, pick your shit up. You skate with it.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I turn and head for the boards but Jayden stops me. “Good luck.”

I hold his gaze and then nod. “You too.”

I expect a snide comment, but there isn’t one. He just grins at me before turning to start and then we are off.

I actually love skating. It gives me time to think, but unfortunately I’m thinking of Jayden. I love the way he skates. It’s almost like he is flying across the ice, the way his legs move in and out, the way his arms glide with each movement he makes. He has the perfect form. He is gonna be hard to beat.

But I’ll do it.

When the first hour is over, no one has gassed out yet. We all are keeping a good pace, almost in a group as we skate. I want to pull ahead, but for once I’m happy with where I am.

“Not queasy are ya, Moore?” Markus calls out, and a few guys laugh.

“Nope, I’m good. You’ll be the queasy one soon,” I tease, and he laughs.

“Want to wager on that one?”

“Sure,” I say when he looks back at me. “When I win, you have to make my bed for me each morning.”

He laughs and so does everyone else. “And fold my clothes,” I add, which gets a roar of laughter.

“No way, Reeves. That’s woman’s work,” McCarthy says, and I roll my eyes. “And if you’re making her bed, make sure you’re fucking her in it. Or you’re a pussy.”

“Fuck off, McCarthy,” Markus says then, before I can.

“Don’t worry, she won’t make it anyway. She’ll be out of our hair soon enough,” he says. Dumb asshole. I really don’t understand his hatred toward me, but when I turn to tell him something very colorful, he’s lying on the ice.

“What the fuck, Sinclair?” he yells as he gets up, and Jayden just shrugs.