“Oh, okay,” he said, still holding her gaze. “Are you sure you want to move on?”
Chewing her lip, she didn’t allow her gaze to avert. She didn’t want to move on, but she had to. Or she would lose it. She stayed locked with Liam’s sweet gaze and slowly nodded. “I am. I want to be with someone who wants what I want.”
“Completely understandable. Thank you for being honest with me,” he said before leaning over and kissing the side of her mouth. “And it’s fine that you don’t love me yet. Just means I have to work hard to get you to fall for me,” he whispered against her mouth, his blue eyes burning into hers. He then pressed his thin lips to hers and she instantly missed the feel of hair. The smell of the coconut oil that Jordie used for his beard. She missed him. When Liam pulled back, he held her chin by his thumb, his eyes searching his, and she hoped she didn’t look as pained as she felt. And as she stared into his eyes, she begged the sparks to fly. The fireworks to burst or, hell, anything. Something.
But she felt nothing for Liam.
And everything for Jordie.
Jordie watched as Jim poked and prodded at his knee, his brow up in his hairline as he bent it one way and then another. “You feel good?” he asked and Jordie nodded.
“Great.”
“Good, it looks great, and you’ve been really dedicated these last six weeks.”
Jordie smiled. “Ready to go home,” was his answer, and Jim nodded as he slowly laid his leg down.
“Good, ’cause I have paperwork saying you are released from me,” he said, reaching for a stack of papers and handing them to Jordie. “You look good, son, hoping that it stays that way. You’ve done very well. I’m proud of you; you’re a completely different person than the one I met nine months ago.”
Yeah, he was sober and healthy.
That could definitely change a person.
“I feel great. Ready to hit the ice with my boys back home,” Jordie said, hopping off the table without even a cringe. He really did feel brand-spanking-new.
“Just stay clean, Jordie, and healthy. If it hurts, nurse it. Don’t try to hide it because you want to keep playing.”
“Gotcha,” Jordie agreed with a nod. “Won’t happen.”
“And stay away from the bottle.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Will do.”
Jim held his gaze for a little longer and then nodded. “I believe in you, son. Now, believe in yourself.”
He then turned and left the room with no other words. Jordie and Jim didn’t always get along, mostly because Jordie was a selfish, drunken bastard—Jim’s words, of course. But the last two weeks had been good. They were clicking and had developed a certain kind of respect between them. He would miss the old coot, but he was ready to go home.
Heading outside to go back to his cabin he had rented for his belongings, he called Karson first. He needed to call to get an airline ticket, but his excitement had to be shared with his best buddy.
“Hey, bro, what’s up?” Karson asked, breathing hard into the phone.
Jordie grinned, almost bouncing as he made his way to the car. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“Been cleared! Coming home!”
“No shit! That’s awesome, bro!”
“I know,” he said, letting out a long breath. “Longer than I wanted, but I’m excited to get home, start training with you guys.”
“For sure, just in time too. Camp starts Monday. Must have been meant to be. Get clean and healthy; come home right in time to show off.”
“I know,” he said, getting in and starting the car he had rented. “Praying I can keep up. I’ve only been on the ice for the last two weeks.”
And oh, how perfect it had been. Jordie couldn’t help himself, he’d found himself face first in the ice, just to smell it. He’d wanted to immerse himself in it, become one with it. He had missed it so much. He’d stayed out for hours, skating and just playing around. While guitar playing had helped with not wanting to drink, when he was on the ice, alcohol was nowhere in his mind. It was only him, the ice, his stick, and the puck. It was perfect.