Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance by Jami Davenport (classic novels to read .txt) 📕

Paxton: Can we meet tonight?

“It’s him. He wants to meet.” I grinned at Kaitlyn, unable to contain my joy at hearing from him.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about. That boy is crazy about you.” Kaitlyn smiled, as if she considered me too dense to have seen the obvious.

Me: Sure, my place or yours?

Paxton: The Biscuit would be best.

My heart nose-dived. I wasn’t getting such a good feeling about this. “He wants to meet at the Biscuit?”

“The Biscuit? What the fuck? That’s—” Kaitlyn stopped when she saw the stricken look on my face.

“Nowhere to make up,” I finished for her. “He’s breaking things off completely.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do, and so do you. I can see it on your face.”

“I’m sorry, Omi. I really am.”

“I need to go.” I sniffled and choked back a sob. I had to find a private place to break down, and this wasn’t it. I hurried to the door and rushed down the hall.

“I’ll be available if you need to talk. Doesn’t matter how late it is,” Kaitlyn called after me.

I ran all the way to the dorm, tears streaming down my face, ignoring the curious stares as I streaked by. I took the stairs rather than the elevator and didn’t stop running until I was safely inside my dorm room. I threw myself down on the bed and cried until my eyes were devoid of tears and my throat was dry and scratchy.

An hour later, I showered and put on my makeup. I opted for skinny jeans and a tight blouse, which I buttoned to show a good amount of cleavage. A wicked part of me wanted to show him what he’d be missing if he ended it. Petty, but also gave me a measure of control over my fate.

I’d make this easy on him, except for the cleavage view. I’d suggest we break up before he did. If he jumped at the suggestion, I’d have my answer. If he fought for us, I’d also have my answer.

Paxton was being pulled in all directions, and I wasn’t helping matters any. If you loved someone, you sacrificed for them. I’d never sacrificed for anyone before. Tonight, I’d give Pax the ultimate gift. I’d set him free and see if he wanted freedom or me.

On my way out the door, I grabbed the ice skates he’d bought me. No matter what happened, I wasn’t wearing those damn things.

Paxton was sitting at a private table when I walked in. He looked up, and his gaze went right to my breasts, clearly showcased by my blouse. He swallowed and raised his eyes to my face. I glanced at the hockey table, relieved to find it empty of hockey players. The last thing I wanted was an audience witnessing whatever happened.

Determined, I strode toward him. His eyes followed me, but his expression gave nothing away except for the firm set of his jaw. I dropped into the chair across from him.

“I took the liberty of buying you a beer. I hope it’s not warm. I’ve been here awhile.” He pushed the beer across the table toward me.

“Thank you,” I said primly and took a sip. I needed alcohol to get through the night. I raised my head and met his gaze with determination. He wore his game face, one of grit and conviction, but not revealing much else.

“Naomi, I—”

“Paxton, I—” We both spoke at the same time.

He chuckled nervously and gripped his beer glass. “You first.”

I didn’t wait for a second invitation. I’d get this over with. If things fell to pieces, I’d return to the privacy of my dorm room, wallow in my grief, and have another ugly cry.

The man was so freaking gorgeous, and I drank in his face, memorizing the curves and contours, the little laugh lines in the corners of his deep blue eyes, the furrow in his brow when he was being super-serious, that short, neatly trimmed beard, which had abraded my sensitive skin in the sexiest manner on so many occasions.

“Go ahead,” he prompted.

I cleared my throat, heaved a big sigh, and barreled ahead. “Paxton, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now, and I don’t want to add to it. Maybe it’s best we go our separate ways. Take care of business first. Relationships can wait.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled sadly at me. “I was going to suggest the same thing.”

My heart sank so low it was drowning in sorrow somewhere in the depths of my stomach. He wasn’t going to fight for me—for us. If anything, he was relieved. I had my answer, and it wasn’t the one I wanted, but nevertheless, at least it was an answer.

“It’s for the best,” I said, surprising myself at how calm and reasonable I sounded considering my inner turmoil.

“That doesn’t mean that, down the road, we might not meet again.”

“Of course it doesn’t. In a few years, when your career is established, and I’m—” I trailed off, not sure how to finish my statement. I didn’t know where I’d be, but I was ninety-nine percent sure my location wouldn’t be Seattle.

“Sure. We don’t know what the future holds. I’m sorry.” He took my hands in his. “These last few months with you were some of the best of my life. I’m going to miss you.”

“We can still hang out. We won’t be dating, but that shouldn’t stop us from being friends.”

“Yeah, of course we’re still friends.” I heard the reluctance in his voice.

“By the way, my internship ends in a few weeks. I won’t be traveling with the team after break. That’ll make this easier.”

He nodded, still wearing his game face, not giving me a glimpse into how he was feeling or what he was thinking.

“Well, I have studying to do.” I pushed back my chair and stood. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I was struck by a lightning bolt of clarity. Was I doing the