Behind the Net: a grumpy sunshine hockey romance

CHRISTMAS WAS FOUR DAYS AGO. I’m at my mom’s house, sitting on the couch with Daisy, watching the video of Pippa again. A cheeky smile lingers on her mouth as she belts the lyrics out, her foot taps in the air as she plays the guitar, and her eyes glitter with mischief, like she isn’t supposed to be singing about getting mad at her ex and moving on to something better.

She’s so beautiful like this. She’s always beautiful, but especially like this, singing her heart out, looking so happy.

It’s day five of not seeing Pippa, and I’m going out of my mind. We text constantly, but it’s not the same as having her right in front of me. Within arm’s reach is the best place Pippa can be.

After five days, it’s obvious. I have feelings for the pretty songbird, and I’m tired of telling myself no. Just thinking about her makes me happy.

I reach for my old excuses, but something cuts through them. What if I could find a way to make this work?

She and Hazel flew out to Silver Falls last week, and because my flight from Minnesota to Vancouver was delayed due to bad weather, she left before I got home. I didn’t get to say goodbye or give her the Christmas presents I got for her. I could have overnighted them to Silver Falls, but I want to see her face when she opens them.

What if I visited her? What if I did the impulsive thing that I never do and just went to her?

Something lifts in my chest, but my mind wanders to the time Pippa and I hooked up and I had a ton of missed calls from my mom. I wasn’t there when she needed me. I was off getting distracted. I scrub a hand down my face, pushing the daydreams away. I’m not going to Silver Falls. I’ll see her next week when she comes home.

A shadow passes over me, and my mom leans over the back of her couch where I’m sitting, mooning over my goddamned assistant. I pull my headphones off.

“Is that Pippa?” she asks before I can tuck my phone away.

I nod.

She gestures at my headphones. “Play it out loud.”

When I press play after disconnecting the headphones, Pippa’s voice fills the room while we watch her on the screen. Daisy readjusts on the couch, resting her head on my arm, and she lets out a long sigh.

My mom gives Daisy a scratch. “She misses Pippa.”

Daisy and I look at each other. Me too, buddy.

My mom gives me a side-long look, studying me with a curious sparkle in her eyes. “I can watch Daisy if you want to go out on New Year’s.”

The only person I want to see on New Year’s is Pippa. “It’s fine.”

“Jamie.” She studies me, and there’s a flicker of sadness and something else in her eyes. Embarrassment, maybe.

“It’s fine,” I repeat. “I’m not really into partying.” And I’m needed here, I don’t say.

She watches me for a long moment. “I started looking for a therapist.”

My head snaps up and I turn to get a better look at her. “What?”

She nods, spinning one of her rings around her finger. “Pippa mentioned it that night you two were over. She made it sound kind of normal.”

My heart bursts with pride and affection for my Pippa. “It is normal. Lots of people get therapy.”

She shrugs again. “I haven’t found someone yet, but I’m looking.”

“That’s great.” That heavy weight in my gut lessens. “I’m really happy to hear that.”

“I thought you might be.” She takes a seat beside Daisy and combs her fingers through Daisy’s fur. “What’s Pippa doing for New Year’s?”

“She and Hazel are going to a bar.”

I imagine Pippa in the busy bar, her hair loose and wavy like at the wrap party. Maybe she’s wearing a dress, but more likely, she’s dressed casually because it’s a crappy bar in a small town, and she doesn’t want to stick out. When she told me that, I laughed, because there isn’t a single room where Pippa wouldn’t stick out.

An unwelcome image pops into my head of a guy leaning on the bar, talking to her. Smiling at her. His gaze dropping to her mouth, her tits. Maybe he reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear, says something teasing. My nostrils flare.

I hate that idea. I hate it so fucking much. My knee bounces as I stare at nothing.

“Jamie?”

I snap to attention. “Hmm?”

My mom shrugs, nonchalant. “Why don’t you go visit Pippa? Silver Falls is lovely, honey, and I bet she’d love to show you around her hometown.”

My knee continues to bounce as I consider it. I’m crawling out of my skin without her.

In the past few weeks, my mom has seemed better. She seems less worried, less anxious, like she has more control. Maybe she’d be fine.

Miller’s mom lives a few minutes from here, and I’m certain he’s spending the holiday there. I have a weird feeling he’d be over here in a heartbeat if I asked.

And she’s looking for a therapist. That is a huge step.

“Okay.” I nod. “I’m going to Silver Falls.”