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Yeah, sure, in my twenties, I would’ve been hauling her over my shoulder, but now I’m ready to get down on one knee for a woman. Well, not any woman—the right one.
Men on men. Women with women. People kissing people.
I regret the words as soon as they fly from my lips. Anxiety always sharpens my words, making them ready to strike the nearest opposing victim, but he hasn’t done anything wrong. In fact, this man’s doing everything right. He deserves soft words, not sharp ones.
My heartbeat grows urgent, like my chest is a prison, and it’s demanding to be heard. Chills roll over my clammy skin while my thoughts spin in a dizzying storm, each one slipping through my grasp before I can make sense of it.
I subtly pull back, not wanting some stranger to bear witness to my vulnerability. I’ve lived with anxiety long enough that panic attacks are more frequent than my period, and it’s easier to fall apart when no one’s watching.
Life would be so much easier if I could dim my emotions with a simple flip. I’d keep my anxiety turned off and my sarcastic quips turned on.
I suck in a long breath. In for four. Hold, Nina. Out for four. Gritting my teeth, I zone in on the mouse, scurrying on a telephone line. Wait, is that a mouse or a rat? Please be a mouse. Breathe. The crowd of pedestrians gathering around the plumber. Breathe. The smoke spiraling up to the twinkling stars. Breathe. A dog peeing on a fire hydrant.
This is one of the most accurate depictions of using grounding techniques during an anxiety attack...
No one else can fight my battles. All I want is someone who sees the darkest corners of my soul and doesn’t get scared off by the cobwebs. Anxiety might suck me into the whirlpool of my life, but I always come up for air.
Anxiety’s never made me someone’s hero. I better soak up this moment, so I can remember it the next time I can’t sleep.
Red flags wave in the back of my mind, but bad choices are my forte. Exhibit A is walking toward me in his sweatshirt that reads I might be N. Er. Dy. but only Periodically. I can still see the stain on the shoulder where I spilled my decaf coffee that I wish Tide had washed out.
That is QUITE a red flag....
Maybe it’s my dry spell.
YA THINK?!?!
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the same man who saved us from mutual destruction last week also tied up a woman on a yacht near the coast of Tenerife and accidentally set it on fire as she orgasmed.
What in the-?
I’m done molding myself to fit someone else’s needs.
At five-foot-four, Patricia Watson’s gray head barely reaches the shoulders of most men here, but her raw intensity commands attention. As the daughter of a hockey legend and a former player herself, she’s a well-respected head coach within the League.
Patricia is already my favorite character.
Whenever tensions rise, Patty’s the first to get everyone to simmer down. He’s a man of few words at first, but he’ll talk for hours once you get to know him.
Also love Patty <3
Camille Bernard is one of the top sports agents in the industry, and after the way she handled the Tenerife Incident, I’d trust her to fly a plane blindfolded.
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Tell him. Tell him now, Nina.
Of course you won't.
“So, name any position that you want, because I bet I can fake fuck you better than he ever did for real.”
This book is absolute sex-crazed trash
I love getting on my knees for women.
I make a mental note never to call her baby, and glance at the knives. She's got serrated blades. Nice. Those could slice through dick skin like butter.
I JUST BURST OUT LAUGHING I AM LOSING MY MIND
“Let’s start with limits. Is there anything you don’t want me doing?”
That’s the woman who shoved her tongue down my throat in the bar. Is she Nina’s sister? Our eyes meet, and her brows come together, but there’s no sign of recognition. Does she really not remember that night? How drunk was she?
MEREDITH TRAPP... wtf
I tug her closer to me, feeling this protective urge to show this asshole exactly what he’s missing. His loss. I’ve got her in my arms now.
Dammit. This woman. No. Not woman—girl.
Um, excuse me, she's still a woman?
I mistakenly trusted him. He mistakenly thought I was fragile.
Secrets are fun, but they’re destined to be kept, never shared, and I refuse to be caged by a relationship. I want someone who loves me so much that they shout about my successes in the grocery store checkout line while ringing up avocados.
Maybe I shouldn’t have believed everything online.
Ma'am... all of his actions so far have said otherwise... Use your brain.
We're off today, every last one of us, and we have been ever since I ended things with a certain woman, no—girl. The girl I can’t get out of my head.
SHE'S LITERALLY AN ADULT! GROW UP, AND GET OVER YOURSELF!
He scrolls through my texts. “Don’t worry, I won’t look at your nudes. I’ve already seen your mutant cock, anyway. I don’t need a repeat.” “What’s wrong with your cock, Tremblay?” someone shouts in the locker room. “You haven’t seen it?” Cruz scrolls my phone. “It’s girthy as fuck.”
Some straight men are gayer than the gays.
“Don’t let Micah get to you. I’ve seen you play. You don’t need a good luck charm to win. You got this, Rhode.”
“You’re icebound.” “What? Icebound?” “Yeah. Means you’re bound by the rituals of the hockey gods like us, so you have to watch all our games. We need our good luck charm to keep winning.”
I want to speak my mind, be bold, and try my damn hardest not to let anxiety, or anyone, control me. Rhode Tremblay, included.
“No, I made these, except for the only good one of the ballsack that says I’m Nuts About You. My mom did that. She’s got the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old boy.”
Weird for a mother to make that for her son, but okay...
The only thing her memory haunts me with is a curse of anxiety because my child brain couldn’t process death.
“Oh. Yeah, that one’s easy. I felt like my life was a mess and I needed some more permanent luck. It hasn’t worked out that way.” “Not sure about that. I feel pretty lucky that I met you,” he blurts.
I like that tattoos are an outward sign of a person’s soul. I can’t change my appearance, but I feel like tattoos are a way to show people the parts of me that I want to be seen.”
“Did I tell you about the suction on this girl’s mouth from the other night? Unreal. I clogged up her vocal cords, but she kept on going like a fucking plunger.”
*Eye roll*
I try not to frown at the fact that she sort of called Patty adorable. He is, but fuck, I don’t want Nina thinking that about my friends.
Omg grow UPPPPPPPPP
We spend the next hour cooking, and Nina keeps laughing at every fucking thing Cruz says, even though none of it’s funny.
Real.
I shove the bottle back in the drawer.
Though I get it as someone with anxiety, she could've just taken a pill to go, just in case she'll need it later (which is EXACTLY what will happen.)
The slowest swallow in the history of swallows makes its way down his throat.
...no.
“Thanks,” he grunts. He doesn’t add anything else.
Rhode literally needs to get his head out of his ass..
“I don’t feel strong,” she mutters. “Most of the time it feels like I’m constantly climbing out of this mental ditch while everyone around me is walking up mountains of success, but I’m still stuck, always ending up in the same place no matter how hard I try. I hate it.” I stuff my hands in my pockets, so I don’t do something stupid like pull her into my chest and never let her go. “Not everyone can climb up a mountain. That takes a hell of a lot more strength if you ask me.”
So what if she’s twenty-two? Age doesn’t matter. I’m making this a bigger deal than it needs to be.
DUH YOU DIMWAD
