Desire or Defense: An Enemies-to-Lovers Hockey Romance (D.C. Eagles Hockey)

TUESDAY AFTER PRACTICE, I head to my weekly sesh with Dr. Curtis. I’m not dreading it today like I usually am, and I have to wonder if Noah’s bravery is rubbing off on me a little. It’s like he’s my coach, instead of the other way around.

If this not-quite-twelve-year-old boy can deal with his crap in therapy, can’t I at least try? We’ll see how it goes, anyway. I don’t want to give my shrink a heart attack by suddenly pouring out my deepest darkest fears or anything.

When I walk inside the neat office, I notice Dr. Curtis is already seated in an armchair waiting for me. I hang my coat on a hook by the door and take a seat across from him. He smiles in that serene way he always does, and I hate that it’s actually soothing somehow. Like black magic or something.

“How are you, Mitch?” he asks.

I grunt in answer, then remember Noah’s advice during our training sesh… if you don’t talk about stuff, it’ll stay trapped in your head forever and you’ll go crazy.

Reluctantly, I speak real words following the grunt. “I’m doing… okay.” I can practically hear Noah cheering me on inside my thick skull.

Dr. Curtis’s eyes widen so slightly that I think I may have imagined it. But he corrects his expression quickly, going back to that cool and unaffected expression he always keeps in place. “I’d love to hear how the coaching is going, if you want to talk about it.”

I take a deep breath. “At first, I hated it.”

Dr. Curtis smiles. “And now?”

“There’s this kid,” I start, but then feel weird talking and absently bring my hand up to scratch the back of my neck. “He reminds me of myself. When I was a kid. And, even now, sort of.”

Dr. Curtis nods subtly, like if he makes a sudden movement I’ll clam up and stop talking… and honestly, I might. “How does he remind you of yourself?”

“He gets angry and makes stupid decisions,” I admit.

“Ah, a miniature Mitch ‘The Machine,’ then?” Dr. Curtis teases, relaxing in his chair.

I smile, thinking how annoyed Noah would be if he heard someone say that. “He’s a good kid, though. And a talented skater.”

Dr. Curtis nods, his expression relaxed as he listens. Probably relieved I’m actually speaking, for once.

“He lost his parents,” I continue. “Not even a year ago. So, I know hockey is the only thing he has… besides his sister. Who’s great.” I clear my throat, I hadn’t meant to say anything about Andie.

“And that’s how you feel? Like all you have is hockey?” Dr. Curtis frowns.

I huff out a humorless laugh. “I know it sounds stupid. Poor professional athlete, woe is me—”

Dr. Curtis cuts me off. “Don’t make your struggles seem small. Our careers are important, of course, but humans are meant to have deep, personal relationships. Without that piece of the puzzle, anyone would struggle.”

My throat feels thick as I soak in his words. The more I think about them, the more my nose burns. I will not cry in therapy. I will not cry in therapy.

I think of Noah’s words again… it’s okay if you cry. I won’t make fun of you.

“I’ve pretty much been alone since I was eighteen. My mom left when I was eight, but she was never around much to begin with. Then my dad self-medicated after she left. Which escalated into more, and he managed to land himself in prison shortly after I turned ten.” I swallow the lump in my throat not wanting to go down. “I think I could’ve been alright, if my granddad hadn’t passed right after I graduated highschool.” My eyes blur with tears, but I choke them back. “He was all I had left… and then he was just gone. And I had nothing.”

Dr. Curtis is silent for a moment, like he’s allowing me time to process my own words. “I’m sorry you had to face so much loss, Mitch.”

I do the fancy breathing thing, in for seven, out for eleven, to calm my racing heart.

“Is it your Grandfather’s passing that makes you feel the most anger?” He asks softly.

“I think it’s just what tipped the iceberg, so to speak. Like I could hold it together… until the last thing I had was ripped away just like everything else.”

He nods. “Often, when we face hardships, we feel angry. But anger is a surface-level emotion. Usually, it’s just covering up another, much deeper, emotion. We have to ask ourselves, what’s happening deep down that’s causing us to feel angry?”

I rub one hand down my beard, pondering his words. I never thought it could be so challenging to identify emotions, to know what I’m feeling. But it’s hard to label.

Dr. Curtis makes a few notes on the tablet he’s holding then looks back up at me. His brown eyes study mine, there’s no judgment in his expression… but maybe, empathy? When I don’t say anything, he continues. “Do you think your experiences have made you avoid building relationships?”

I breath out a quiet laugh. “Um, yeah.”

He smiles slightly, since we both know the answer to the question he’s about to ask. “Why’s that?”

“I lose everyone I love.”

Silence falls over us. I bend forward and lean my elbows on my knees, looking at the ground and relishing in the quiet of the room. Allowing my words to wash over me. To soak in my thoughts for once instead of fighting against them. It feels… heavy. Those five words I’ve never dared speak out loud.

I lose everyone I love.

I lose everyone I love.

I lose everyone I love.

I’m not sure how long we sit in silence before Dr. Curtis speaks, it could be a minute, or an hour. But I appreciate the silence he’s giving me, and I think he senses I’m done talking for the day.

He finally breaks the silence, pulling my eyes away from the carpet and back to his face. “I have some homework for you, Mitch.” He pauses and smiles. “I want you to find something that you enjoy, that’s not hockey related, and not on a screen. It can be a small thing, but just find something that’s relaxing that simply makes you feel happy.”

“That’s it?”

He laughs. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” I say slowly, already trying to think of something besides John Wayne movies or hockey that I’d enjoy.

The following afternoon, I’m at the rink waiting for Noah. It’s more than a little embarrassing how nervous I am to see whether Andie brings him, or Ronda. Not because Ronda terrifies me… because she does, but because I really freaking hope it’s Andie’s blonde head and warm brown eyes that appear when that door opens.

A few seconds pass, and Andie walks through the doors, Noah trailing right behind her. I release a deep breath. I hadn’t noticed I’d even been waiting with bated breath, but I had. I can’t even breathe correctly when it comes to Andie.

She spots me and smiles, throwing me an awkward, very Andie-like wave. I smile back, but I’m sure mine isn’t as brilliant as hers.

Noah flies onto the ice and skates a few circles around me. I can see Andie laughing from the opposite side of the plexiglass. I wish I could hear her laughter from here, that bubbly, happy sound that reminds me of popping a champagne bottle.

Andie crooks her finger, gesturing for me to come closer. That little finger crook could get me to do just about anything. A fantasy pops inside my head… Andie in those little heart shorts, and fluffy, white socks… crooking that finger at me with hooded eyes and a come hither expression.

Lord, have mercy.

I skate over to the door between the ice and the bleachers, still a little light-headed from my daydream.

She’s leaning against the doorway waiting for me. “Hey, I was going to run and grab groceries, is that okay?”

“You trust me to be nice?”

She smirks. “I have a feeling you’re a soft, squishy teddy bear under that big, tough exterior.”

I snort… not an attractive sound, but she surprised me. “Oh, really? So, now I’m hairy and squishy?”

Her eyes rake over my arms, focusing on the tattoos for a moment, then they glide back up to my face and she looks at me through her long, dark lashes. “I never said there’s anything soft and squishy about your exterior.”

My whole body stills. It takes all of my willpower not to grab her and kiss her… to see what those pink, sassy lips of hers taste like… to kiss her until she can’t think of any more ways to drive me crazy.

Andie smirks and spins on her heel. She’s walking away from me, leaving me stunned. But she surprises me again when she stops, glances over her shoulder, and says, “but you are hairy.”

She waves, probably at Noah, who’s now by my side, and he waves back.

“What’s wrong with you?” Noah asks once his sister exits the rink.

I look down at him and notice he’s staring at me with concern. Likely because I’m standing there gaping at the interaction I just had with Andie.

I clear my throat. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He glances back at the door his sister just walked through. “I think my sister has a crush on you.”

“Really?” I say a little too loud and a little too eagerly.

Noah glares. “Don’t be so happy about it, sheesh.”

“I’m not.” My tone sounds defensive, even to my own ears. Noah purses his lips and crosses his arms, still holding his stick in one hand. “I’m just curious why you’d think that.”

He laughs through his nose. “You don’t know much about girls, do you?”

My face twists in annoyance. “And you do?”

He nods slowly. “I know that when a girl’s face gets all red when they’re around you, that means they have a crush on you.”

My eyes widen and Noah’s expression tells me he’s quite pleased with himself. “And Andie’s face is always red when you’re around.”

I feel my own face growing warmer. “Probably because I make her mad.”

His eyes look up and he quirks his lips, pondering my words. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s probably it.” He skates away from me toward the net, leaving me there gaping at him. The ability to leave me stunned and at a loss for words must be a family trait.

Noah and I spend a half hour going over drills, practicing our shots from various positions, and he even shows me some of his speed skating moves. I replicate the moves easily, but I definitely couldn’t have when I was his age.

We’re taking a water break when I remember my homework from Dr. Curtis for therapy. I thought hard about it last night, but couldn’t come up with a damn thing to help me relax.

“So, my shrink gave me homework,” I say, then take a big gulp from my water bottle.

“Yeah? What was it?” Noah squirts water into his mouth from his water bottle, then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Finding something to help me relax. Any ideas? Something non-hockey related and not on a screen.”

He wrinkles his nose. “What else is left?”

I huff out a laugh. “My thoughts exactly.”

Noah rubs his chin with the hand not holding onto his water bottle. He’s deep in thought when his eyes light up with an idea. “Andie relaxes after work by taking bubble baths and listening to books.”

“Really?” I ask, trying to mask the fact that his big sister in a bubble bath is extremely interesting to me. “I never thought about listening to books… and I do have a giant bathtub.”

“She’d be so jealous,” he says, smiling to himself. “The tub in my parents’ master bathroom is tiny. Well, I guess it’s Andie’s now… not my parents’.” His face falls, and my hand moves of its own volition to his shoulder.

I go with it, gripping his shoulder tightly in a comforting gesture. It’s not something I’m used to doing, comforting people, but I think it’s what I probably needed when I was his age. Even though I never would’ve admitted it. My granddad was my favorite person, and he did his best, but he definitely wasn’t affectionate. I’m not even sure I can recall the last time someone hugged me, like really hugged me. A big, full-on, bear hug.

In my youth, right after being drafted, I did my fair share of dallying with the ladies. I’m no innocent little angel, alright? But having someone know you, someone to talk to, someone to comfort you? That’s different. And I never thought I’d want that, never thought I’d crave someone’s touch in that way… and maybe therapy is just completely and utterly ruining me… but it’s starting to not sound so bad.

“Why do you always look like you’re about to cry?”

My head whips over to look at Noah, who’s studying me intently. I’m not sure how long he’s been staring at me while I thought about hugs. “I’m not crying. And I thought you said you wouldn’t make fun of me if I did?”

“I won’t. But you gotta give a guy some warning.” He stands on his skates and starts making his way onto the ice.

“I wasn’t crying!” I yell after him. He ignores me.