Caged (Gold Hockey Book 11) by Elise Faber (romantic love story reading TXT) 📕

ice for him, it had been his backward crossovers, specifically him not putting weight on the proper edge on his left foot. She’d pulled that out of nowhere, had picked and prodded and drilled the shit out of him until he’d fixed that bad habit. It had taken the entire fucking summer, but he’d managed, thanks to this woman’s bulldog tendencies.

And now, she was focused on Dani. On him and Dani.

Things were off. He was moping. Dani was hurt, and Fanny had seen that pain. Which meant it wouldn’t be long until the rest of the team would notice.

He’d be getting wooing advice from Kevin, who’d managed to snare PR-Rebecca. Gabe, who was the Gold’s head trainer and with Nutritionist Rebecca and really good at asking for forgiveness, would give him a multitude of tips, all while prescribing uncomfortable TENS therapy and/or a pressure point massage as punishment for Ethan’s wrongdoings. And Brit would be all over it, enlisting Max and Blue and Coop to enact revenge.

That wasn’t even including Blane, Stefan—their former captain and Brit’s hubby, Mike, Liam, and Logan.

They’d all have an opinion over his mistakes, would drag him over the coals with one breath, and with the next, they’d want to help him fix his fuck up.

It would be awful.

It would be fucking great.

Because they were family, and they cared.

Ethan just . . . he already had put enough pressure on his own shoulders to try to fix things with Dani. The full-court press of the entire team would probably work against him, make it even harder.

Either that or he was worried that she really didn’t love him, wouldn’t ever find her way there, and she was just looking for some fun, exploring her attraction to a semi-good-looking guy with a decent job, some smarts, and a nice body. Maybe she didn’t actually like what was beneath the surface.

Maybe she didn’t see the same future he did.

And perhaps that was the biggest mindfuck of all. Because he wasn’t the type of man to back down from what he wanted.

The degree was difficult with his job and travel. He was making it happen. It might have taken longer than planned, but he’d done it. His parents didn’t want him to help them when his father had been let go from his job a few years back. He’d paid off their house, refused to accept any repayment when they’d sold it after his parents had both gotten jobs at a different university. He wasn’t the most talented guy in the league (not by a long shot). But he’d put his fucking head down and worked to make a place for himself on the special teams. He’d found a way to be valuable and content without trying to be a superstar—not that he had the skill for it.

And that wasn’t self-deprecation.

It was reality.

So he was living the fucking dream, feeling fulfilled in his work, in his life . . . well, in most parts of his life.

Because he couldn’t make Dani love him. No matter how much he wanted her to.

“Earth to Ethan,” Fanny said lightly.

“I’m working,” he muttered, squeezing his pen.

“Thinking about Dani. Thinking about how to fix your fuck up.”

“Fanny,” he warned.

“Ethan,” she warned back.

He sighed. “I love her,” he said. “But she doesn’t love me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I can’t make her. Even though I really want to.”

Fanny’s mouth fell open, but he had to give her credit; she recovered quickly. “Ethan, that’s—”

“Don’t.”

“That woman has come alive since you’ve started dating. She likes you. She loves you.” Fanny squeezed his hand. “She may not be ready to say it yet, but have no doubt that her heart beats for yours.”

The pain in him lessoned, the edges of the gaping wound closing slowly. “I still need to find a way for her to forgive me for pushing.”

She snorted. “You’re a man. Men push.”

“That doesn’t make it—” He broke off when her lips twitched. “Hilarious. I should make you do skating drills.”

“I’d kill your puny little skating drills.” She narrowed her eyes, lips twitching again, and more of that painful, caused-by-his-own-hand wound closed. “Dani is a good person. She’s clearly crazy about you. So just be patient but persistent, and”—she leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper—“for the record, she loves Hot Tamales.”

“What if she doesn’t love me?”

Fanny smacked him on the arm. Hard.

The woman was stronger than she appeared, but her tone was even more fierce. “You are a fucking catch, Ethan Korhonen, and if you don’t believe that, look inside yourself and imagine how you’d feel if Dani thought that she wasn’t worthy of your love.”

His jaw clenched as reality struck home.

How could he expect Dani to see herself as he saw her—wonderful, beautiful inside and out, smart, funny, incredibly strong—if he continued to view himself as never quite measuring up?

She nudged him. “Exactly. So put that derision and self-doubt to bed once and for all, woman up, and love her with every bit of your soul.”

Fanny was out of the seat and walking down the aisle before he could summon any words, the reality of her words hitting him hard enough to momentarily freeze his lungs.

Because he finally understood.

Self-deprecating took on a different tact when it was laced with self-loathing, when it was used as a joke, but one with a painful center. He stared down at the tray table, knowing that it had begun long ago when he’d overheard one of his father’s colleagues telling another colleague that Ethan’s parents must be “so disappointed” to not have an “intellectual child.”

Because he’d played hockey.

Because he hadn’t taken to piano or Math Club. He hadn’t had the patience to want to join the debate team.

He loved learning, but only what he found interesting.

Because outside of that, he’d loved even more to move—to be on the ice, to feel the cool air on his face, the joy of a teammate scoring or connecting a sweet pass, the terror when a player was streaking back