Power Play: A Second Chance Hockey Romance (Sinners on the Ice)
Power Play: A Second Chance Hockey Romance: Chapter 33

Now, November

The game has already started; the Thunders are playing at home against Montreal. Angie took Maya with her to the arena, while I pretended to be sick. She didn’t believe me. My red-rimmed eyes didn’t fool her. Neither did the grimace I tried to pass off as a smile.

She asked me if Maya could stay for a sleepover with her and Drake, and I immediately agreed. I needed it so I could throw myself a pity party. One night to bawl my eyes out without being afraid that Maya would see. Without needing to explain why I look like absolute shit.

Just me, a bottle of white wine, and my favorite show in the world—Gossip Girl.

I’m on season five, and my mood is so awful not even Dan and Blair’s relationship annoys me. They look cute, I guess.

Reaching for my glass, I glance at my phone lying on the table but decide against it, leaning back into the couch instead. I’m acting like a fucking child, but I can’t be the bigger person. I can’t make myself read his texts. It’s going to hurt more if I do.

The most ridiculous thing is that I knew this was coming. I didn’t want to admit that. I wasn’t naive enough to actually expect a happy ending. I don’t deserve one. Not after everything I did to him. Not after I kept him hidden like some dirty little secret, so afraid of what Drake and our friends would think about me if they knew I was still sleeping with Clay even after our breakup. Even after I broke his heart. That I was seeing him every summer, staying at his house in Chicago, letting him lie to his parents, to his best friend, simply because I was a coward who couldn’t admit—to him and most importantly to myself—that I loved him. Only him. And that I made a horrible mistake when I left him after his graduation.

People like me don’t deserve to be happy.

Eli’s words ring in my ears, and I stiffen, hugging myself tightly. The words he said to me when I caught him packing his bags after I came back from a walk with Maya. He said I ruined everything. That I was too demanding, too annoying, too dependent. That I suffocated him with my worries and my jealousy. That he did everything he could to love me, but I made it impossible. That I was too much.

I was unlovable, he said.

And, because of me, he couldn’t love Maya either.

I hide my face in my hands, my body wracked by sobs. Tears stream down my cheeks. I’m a mess—and, truth be told, I always have been. Only someone like me could lose a guy like Clay.

It took me three weeks to start doing something. The first week, Maya and I stayed home, dealing with a stomach flu and whatever virus we caught along with it. I would text him, tell him about our days and how Maya was feeling, ask about his days. And he was texting back. His days were full of games and practices, and I began to convince myself that I should keep my distance. That I’d fix everything once he had a schedule that wasn’t so busy.

Maya’s constant questions about Clay pushed me to act sooner and in a more spontaneous way than I’d planned. I sent him a text yesterday, asking if we could visit since we were already in his neighborhood. He didn’t reply until we were already home.

His text still gave me hope. And, like the hopeless idiot I am, I went to his place right after I took Maya to preschool. I even brought him donuts, hoping we could share them and talk.

Joke’s on me—he already had someone to share them with. Someone more beautiful than me. Someone who wouldn’t hurt him like I did, who would make him happy.

I swear I didn’t even flinch when Dylan opened his door dressed in only his black tee. She smiled at me with her usual friendly smile, said something nice that my brain didn’t register. Then I handed her the box of donuts and fled the scene. Seeing him with her would’ve broken me.

I saw his calls and texts when I got home, but I didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, I went to her socials and realized what an idiot I’ve been. She’s been to all their home games, taking pictures with her friends at the arena, taking pictures with him and his teammates. She was there for him when I couldn’t be. She wasn’t hiding, wasn’t pretending…and now she’s got him, while all I have is a broken heart. Now I have to have a talk with Maya, to explain to her why we can’t visit him again and why he won’t visit us either.

Exactly what I wanted to avoid at all costs.

But I can’t say I don’t deserve it.

Taking a deep breath, I wipe away my tears, pick up my glass from the table, and take a sip of wine. I better stop—all these what-ifs and regrets won’t take me back in time to fix everything. It’s a done deal, and I need to accept it and move on.

That’s all there is to it.

The knock on my door catches me halfway to my bedroom. Huffing, I turn around and go to answer it. I’m a bit lightheaded, but it’s nothing a good night of sleep can’t fix. Though if it’s Angie and Maya, my plans to go to bed are down the drain.

I open my door and immediately want to close it again. He stands there in his infuriating beauty, wearing a dark green hoodie and black jeans. His eyebrows are pulled together, his eyes laser focused on me.

“Hey, Layla.”

“I have nothing to say to you except be happy.” I grip the door, trying to keep my balance. “Be happy, Clay, and goodbye.”

I push the door closed, but he stops it with his foot. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice firm and stoic.

“There’s no need. I understand what happened, and I know it’s all my fault. I ruined everything.”

“And what happened exactly?” Clay arches an eyebrow.

“I hurt your feelings, and acted like a coward. It’s logical that you found someone better. I wish you and Dylan only the best. You’re a very cute couple.”

“Dylan and I aren’t a couple.”

I blink but recover quickly. “Okay, then have fun fucking, I guess,” I blurt out, my cheeks flaming up. God, what a terrible thing to say. I hate myself.

Clay keeps silent, his gaze never leaving my face. I want to cry, scream, and hide from him. It’s all too much.

“I can’t do this.” He steps back. “I can’t fucking talk to you when you don’t even want to listen to what I have to say.” He turns around and goes down the stairs.

I put on my pink sneakers and rush after him, not giving a damn that I’m making a scene. I want to know what he means by that.

The sky gives off a sudden bolt of lightning when I catch his elbow and halt him in his tracks. It illuminates his face, and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest with how sad he seems.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you read my texts?”

I shake my head.

“Then I have nothing to tell you, Layla. I explained everything.”

“Please, Clay, what do you mean?”

He scrutinizes me. “Yesterday, after I texted you to come over, I saw Dylan fall out of her Uber face first. She was drunk, and the driver didn’t know what to do with her. She didn’t have her purse, so she didn’t have her keys. And because I couldn’t let her sleep on the ground, I brought her to my house, put her on the couch, and let her sleep. She’s my neighbor, and we’re friends, but that’s all.”

“She was at all of your games⁠—”

“I invited her to our first home game,” he drawls, “so I could introduce her to Dean Crawford. They’re kinda seeing each other. I’m not interested in Dylan. I never have been.”

“What?” My jaw drops as I stare at him, not understanding what’s going on.

“Layla.” He exhales, exasperated, turning his face to the sky. My whole body shudders, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the rain that has finally started. “How can’t you see? After all these years, how can’t you see that I love you?”

My lips part. The words are so unexpected yet so familiar, and they ring in my ears as if he’d used a megaphone. “You can’t,” I tell him, taking a step back. “You can’t love me.”

His brow furrows, and he bites the inside of his bottom lip. In a blink, he closes the distance between us, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. His body radiates maddening heat. He glowers at me. “Why not?”

I snicker, shaking my head. “Do I really need to answer that? Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.” He shrugs. “Why?”

“Because I broke your heart,” I whisper, my eyes veiling with tears. “I broke your heart so many times, you should hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I love you,” Clay insists. “What else?”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s for me to decide, don’t you think?” He cocks an eyebrow at me, his eyes as stormy as the weather gets with each passing moment. “And I think you do deserve me.” The first tear falls down my cheek, mixing with the droplets of rain that are now hitting my face. “Anything else?”

“It’s not just me anymore. Maya and I…we’re like the sun and the moon. We don’t exist without each other. It’s a one-plus-one deal, Clay.”

“And I’d be happy to be another plus-one in your equation because I love you and Maya.”

I expel a shaky breath, my fingers trembling. “I’m dependent,” I confess. “I’m trying not to be, but it’s hard. I lean on Drake and Angie, on Ava, on my parents. I always need someone to help me make a decision.”

“You can be dependent with me all you want. I want you to know that you can always count on me.” He moves a bit closer. “I love you.”

“I’m stubborn and selfish, and I don’t look the way I used to. I’m too much⁠—”

Clay presses a finger to my mouth, silencing me.

“Don’t,” he says quietly but firmly. “You’re persistent and self-sufficient. And yes, you don’t look the way you used to because we all change. But you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world to me. I told you that already, and I’ll continue telling you that over and over again for the rest of my life.” He bends his head down to me. “And you’re not too much. You’re everything. I love you.”

“I make terrible decisions.”

Clay chuckles. “We all do.”

“I rewatch Gossip Girl several times a year, and I’m still not over my obsession with peonies.”

Clay’s eyes coast over my face, and I have no idea what he sees. The rain is pouring down on us; only the streetlights illuminate the space between us. He licks his lips. “Tell me how you feel about me. How you’ve felt about me all these years. Say it, and I’m yours.”

“Clay…” I fall silent, all my emotions strangling me.

“Say it, Layla,” he demands, curving his arm around my waist and hauling me against his chest. “Say it,” he growls.

“I love you, Clay Rodgers. I’ve always loved you,” I say. “And I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner.”

His lips crash onto mine, drowning my sobs in our molded mouths. I wind my hands around his neck, pulling him closer to me. We kiss and kiss. The rain is pouring down on us, but neither of us pays it any attention.

Clay presses his forehead to mine with his eyes closed. His minty breath fans over my face, making me smile. The cool air of late November feels like a sunny day in the middle of June because he’s with me.

“I hate that you think loving you is so hard. It’s so fucking easy, Layla. The easiest thing I’ve done in my life—the deepest, the purest, and the most logical.” He opens his eyes, and his yellowish-greens replace mine. “I love you. You and Maya are my whole world.”

I pull his face down to mine and kiss him again. My skin hums; my body buzzes with excitement.

After all, I still have a chance for a happy ending.