Colliding Love - Tucker Billi...

Unlike in Bellerive, our game in New York has lots of press. Every major sports reporter is here to witness the Bellerive Bullets first pre-season game on American soil. And fuck me if we don't play like absolute garbage. And not even hot garbage. We're the bag ripped open, seagulls feasting on our remains kind of garbage.

Reporters swarm the locker room the minute the game is over, and the buzzing comments between them about the Bullets being shut out are unbelievably annoying. That's right. Not one fucking goal even trickled past the New York goalie.

"Bit of a rocky start to the pre-season," one of the reporters from the World Hockey Network comments as he thrusts a microphone in my face. "What do you think was the biggest difference between this game and the one in Bellerive?"

"We just didn't play well," I say, and Tamiko, who's been trying to coach me into being more personable, more likeable on screen, is full on cringing somewhere. She wouldn't like that answer. Not a good sound bite. Not reflective of who I am. And probably a thousand other things.

"The team doesn't have the resources or players didn't step up..." he says.

He's leading me, which is never a good sign. After our home ice game against Michigan, I wanted to talk, could have talked for hours, but tonight's game just didn't run through my veins like the other night.

"It's the atmosphere," I say. "New York fans don't have the heart that Bellerive has. If you'd been in Bellerive the other night, you'd have heard the game from every corner of the island—not just the arena—the whole island. They're passionate about us, and we didn't let them down. We need to take that attitude on the road." Which isn't the only necessity for these road games, but it's the only one I can say out loud.

"You're happy with the move, then?"

Ah, fuck. Now I have to tiptoe around this. "The fans are fantastic, and they want us to be successful. What more could we ask for?" My list is long, but he doesn't need to know that.

Seemingly content, the media scrum moves to Auston, who's the assistant captain, and had a better game than me.

My shoulders are tight, and as I pack up my gear, I can't help looking forward to getting back on the island and going straight to Sawyer for a treatment. Of course, if she was traveling with the team like I want, I wouldn't have to go running to her. She'd already be here. I could get a treatment from Ken, the physiotherapist who travels with us, but I wouldn't want to mess with Sawyer's process and results.

On the plane, Radek settles in beside me while I scroll through my phone. A text pops up from Tamiko telling me I get "all the gold stars" for my answer in the scrum today about Bellerive. It was an honest answer, which made it easy. The hard part is losing and not being able to think quickly enough to have a direction to spin the loss in. I got lucky that one came to me in the moment.

My phone rings, and my manager's name pops up. I swipe my thumb across the screen and hold it to my ear.

"Bishop," I say.

"I got your message. Yes, Sawyer Tucker's only contracted for on the island training. Joe never traveled with you. Never even crossed my mind you'd have an issue with it."

"Make some calls about getting someone full time," I say, and I close my eyes because I know that's not actually what I want.

"You're kidding, right? After the game in Bellerive, you were all in on Tucker."

Which is still the problem. I'm so fucking all in that she's the only thing I can think about. Lose a game—think of Sawyer. Win a game—think of Sawyer. It used to be that win or lose I was analyzing ways to improve, not wishing for a pat on the head or a literal rub down from my trainer.

"That's not a good idea," Radek mock whispers beside me.

I shoot him a glare and then I sigh into the phone. "Put a pin in it. We just played like shit. I'll call you if I need you."

"You'll push her in the direction you don't want her to go," Radek says when I hang up.

"And which direction is that?"

"Anywhere away from you. So clear at the bar. You like her, and that is strange for you, and you don't know how to handle that."

"She's a good trainer."

"No," Radek says with certainly, his Czech accent surprisingly thick. "Well, maybe. She might be a good trainer. What do I know? But there was a vibe at the bar. Both of you. Maybe nothing has happened, but I think you want it to happen, and that's not how you normally operate."

"How do I normally operate?"

"Hockey, hockey, hockey." Radek laughs. "Eat. Sleep. Hockey. Pussy is so far down the list."

"I don't like what you're implying."

"That she has one or that you want it?"

"That all I want to do is fuck her."

"You don't?"

I let out a frustrated noise, and I shift to stare out the window as the plane taxis down the runway. "I don't know what I want." But I'm starting to think I do, and I'm not ready to act on it. Or that I might ruin what's developing. Is it her training that I want or is it the feeling that hums between us whenever I'm in the room with her? "I don't like the implication that she's just a body to me."

"Lots of people," Radek says, gesturing to the players and staff on the plane, "can be hockey, hockey, hockey, and have something beyond hockey."

"Once any player's focus is pulled off the ice, they're not as good."

"What's your proof?" Radek gives me the side-eye.

"You don't believe me?"

"Why would I believe you?" Radek chuckles. "You're just talking shit."

"Even if I'm wrong—even if your on ice game doesn't suffer—despite all the women hanging around waiting for a chance with one of us, becoming a hockey wife is probably at the bottom of Sawyer's list for life goals. Honestly, it's probably not even on the list."

"Ah, so we go from "not wanting" to "wife" in one conversation. I can't even tell which of your heads is in charge. I think neither."

"I'm done talking to you. You just want to fuck with my head."

"No." Radek waves his hand. "I'm trying to help you. You want her, and maybe you don't know how you want her, but pretending you don't want her doesn't help anyone."

"Yes, it does." I shift in my seat, and I'm sure my annoyance is wafting off me. "I like having her train me. Trying to push us in a direction she doesn't want will only make her quit."

"Exactly," Radek says as though I've proven his point. "Trying to make her do something—like travel with the team—that she doesn't want won't work."

"You're hurting my brain."

"We both know you have no reason to need her. We have Ken. You want her. That's different."

He's right, but I'm not saying a word out loud. Instead, I slouch deeper into my seat.

"You need to be honest with yourself about what you want and the best way to get it. Otherwise, we're all going to suffer." He gestures around the plane. "This organization, the league, the press—they all call you a "kid", but you've never felt like a kid to me. Never. You've always been smarter, tougher than someone your age should be. You ever been committed to a woman?"

"No." I don't even hesitate. Have I felt certain ways about a few women, particularly in my late teenage years? A couple. But those connections were brief or focused only on sex. An actual relationship? Not once.

"I'm not saying," he holds up his hands, "that you go all in with this one. I'm not saying that. But maybe you dip your toe into the deep end. Check the temperature. Maybe even tread water this season. If you set clear parameters and guidelines, maybe she's a safe risk. A chance to learn. A bit older. A bit wiser."

"You know I'm not a fucking virgin, right?"

"Your business..."

"I'm not a virgin, Radek."

"Okay, okay. Then maybe it's a good chance for you to try a little tiny relationship. Try it on."

"That doesn't really seem fair to her."

"You'll never know if you never ask."

"No," I say with a shake of my head. Even if Sawyer felt like a safe risk—and she feels the exact opposite of that—I wouldn't have a clue how to approach a conversation about a "little tiny relationship." It's probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard. "You should not be giving people advice about relationships."

"Maybe not. I have a lot of failed ones." He shrugs.

I'd laugh if I wasn't so tangled up in knots. Despite what he's said and what I know to be true, I can't help thinking that I'd play better, be better, if she was on the road with us.

Chayton's comment about catching more flies with honey than vinegar resurfaces. What's Sawyer's version of honey?  

Update notifications weren't working for a while, so if the 온라인카지노게임 feels like it's taken a jump or you don't know what's going on, it's possible you missed some chapters.

We're having quite the winter weather up north in Canada this year. We've had more snow days/school bus cancellations than I can remember having in years and years. Anyone else experiencing some OTT weather?

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