It’s never been more than a fuck.
Well, that’s not exactly true.
It started out that way, but admittedly, it’s changed into something different. More often than not, I linger after we get off. We might talk or watch TV or have food. On one particular occasion when Janelle had a sleepover at Dahlia’s, I stayed all night. Not a lot of sleep happened, but there was stuff in between.
Surprisingly easy banter. Genuine talk. Nothing too deep or personal, but we never struggle to find things to discuss. I hadn’t meant to stay the entire night, but weirdly, at no point did I want to make an escape. It just felt right to fall asleep with her in my arms. She even made me breakfast the next day.
It’s always a great time with her, but the pisser of it is—I didn’t like the way I felt after I left. I questioned my beliefs about my inability to have a steady relationship and wondered if I was ready for these changes.
Maybe I should end it.
I’m starting to have feelings for her, and that’s not something I’ve ever allowed in my life. I simply don’t have room for it, nor do I believe it’s worth the effort.
It’s so fucking confusing, I even tried to pick a fight—not one that would provoke sex but perhaps get her to break it off with me out of anger. I made a caustic remark about her lavish penthouse in Phoenix. “You’ve done well for yourself after your divorce.” My inference was she didn’t earn what she had.
Her eyes flashed with anger, just as I thought they would.
Veronica retorted hotly, “I would rather live in a tent in the middle of a garbage dump and have a healthy, happy, loving relationship than go through what I did with my ex-husband.”
I was taken aback. I mean, I knew deep in my heart Veronica was not in it for the money. And I was trying to provoke her so maybe she would end things because I clearly don’t have the guts to walk away.
What I didn’t count on was the fact that I felt empathy for her, which was very confusing to me since what she went through is exactly what I would expect out of a relationship. After all, it’s the only thing I’ve ever witnessed from my mom and her carousel of men, which included my father and two stepfathers.
Veronica didn’t sound bitter, merely forthright, when she said, “My ex-husband taught me that there is no such thing as true love.”
And I couldn’t agree more.
In that, we actually have something deeply in common. It’s why when Veronica didn’t kick me out after that, I was relieved. We are both equally averse to serious commitment and the notion of happiness emanating from a relationship. With that commonality, we can continue on with the way we’ve been.
“Dude,” Baden says, rapping his knuckles on the table. My eyes focus on him, and he asks, “Where did you go?”
“What do you mean?” I blink away the thoughts of Veronica, hating my daydreams of her.
“You were somewhere other than here.” Baden gives me a pointed look. “Am I that boring?”
He’s not at all boring. In fact, Baden is one of the easiest people to talk to. I know part of it is because while he’s a member of the team, he’s not out there in the same battle with me on the ice. For some reason, not having that level of connection makes it easier for me to open up to him. Conversely, it’s still hard for me to open up to my actual linemates.
And now, an opportunity has presented itself. A chance for me to share one of my problems with another human being who will give me honest feedback, and while he might judge, his advice has proven sound before.
I decide to take the chance.
“There’s a woman,” I say.
Baden’s expression morphs to pure shock, and then he busts out laughing. “You’re kidding.”
Frowning, I demand, “Why is that so surprising?”
Baden’s laugh ends in a snicker before he shakes his head. “It’s just… you’re a loner. I never saw you as the type to want a relationship.”
“It’s not a relationship,” I clarify. “We’re just screwing around.”
“Yet,” Baden drawls with a sly smile. “I’m getting this is more than you’ve ever committed to anyone in your adult life, with the exception of your sister.”
“Pretty much.” That’s not a hard admission to make. It’s fact.
Baden leans forward again, indicating he has my full attention. “You’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“Well, yeah… in high school, you know. When I was younger and it was never going to amount to anything permanent.”
Baden smirks. “Are you truly against monogamy?”
“I’m against marriage and commitment.”
“Want to tell me why? Let me shrink you up.”
“Maybe one day,” I say, knowing there might come a time when I would tell Baden about my past, which goes deeper than having a terrible role model for a mom, an absent father and a shithead stepfather, which paints the picture of why I am the way I am.