Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance Jami Davenport (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📖

loud laughter reached us, and we both glanced at him. When she turned back to me, I didn’t see the longing in her eyes I used to see when Patrick was in the room.

“You seem down,” she said, reading me like a book in that way she always had.

“A little,” I admitted. The reason I was down had more to do with her than anything, though my crappy relationship with my twin was second in line.

“What’s up?” She snagged one of the wings the waitress had just delivered to our table. Holding my breath, I watched as she nibbled the meat off the bones and sucked on her messy fingers. OMG. I was dying inside. Flashes of how well she sucked a certain part of my anatomy dominated my thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Her concern was palpable, and I rushed to make excuses.

“Patrick and I had an ugly scene at practice today. The entire team saw it.”

“I’m sorry.” She meant those words. She hated seeing Patrick and me at each other’s throats. So did I. I also hated not seeing more of her, especially in less clothes.

I nodded and took a long pull on my beer. “If all this shit keeps up much longer, I’m going to be an alcoholic. I seem to be drinking to dull the pain.”

Naomi’s smile was kind and caring, giving me false hope I couldn’t afford to feel. Did I dare believe she was looking at me the way she used to look at Patrick?

“Pax, hang in there. Don’t go back to old habits.” She patted my arm. “You’ve got this. I watch. I see. Your timing is off by a fraction. Once you take care of that fraction, no one will be able to tell you from Patrick. Hell, I think you might be a better player.”

I choked on my beer with it almost coming out my nose. She was making shit up to help me feel better, and it was working. My head hurt as I struggled to come to terms with who I was on and off the ice. Breaking out of your carefully constructed belief system sucked and was way harder work than I’d ever anticipated. The physical work I dealt with just fine. It was the mental aspect that threw me more often than not.

“Dad always says it’s ninety percent mental when you get to the professional level,” Naomi added.

“So does Coach.”

“Does that apply to you and your skating?”

“I don’t have the physical ability and never will. My balance sucks.” She shot back almost defensively making me sorry I’d asked the question.

“I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

“Thanks, I know you mean well, but I’ll pass. I suck at skating. I’m my dad’s biggest failure.”

“Now who needs an attitude adjustment?”

“I won’t deny that. I’m a realist. My dad wanted a boy, and he got a clumsy, uncoordinated girl.”

“He should be proud of you. You’re smart and bright and beautiful.”

She blushed and squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

We were quiet for a long moment as we were both lost in thought. Naomi spoke first.

“Do you miss her?”

I blinked, confused. “Miss who?”

“Your mom.”

Just this one mention of my mom caused a vise to close over my heart and my throat to close up. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet. Naomi waited patiently for me to gather my wits about me. “She was always there for Patrick and me, always positive and encouraging. She was loyal to a fault. She put up with our dad and all his issues, always painting a cheerful face on everything. Dad hated that I was closer to her than to him.”

“I can understand why you would be. He’d be hard to be close to.”

“Do you know what he said to me after she died?”

“What?”

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. I’d never mentioned this to anyone but Patrick. “He said maybe now I wouldn’t be such a mama’s boy.”

Naomi’s mouth dropped open. “What an insensitive thing to say to a little boy who’s grieving.” She grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

“I thought for the longest time her death was somehow my fault because I’d displeased my dad, and as a result, I lost her forever.”

Her gray eyes met mine, but I didn’t see pity there. I saw understanding and sympathy. I gripped her hand, gaining a measure of comfort from the closeness.

“What about you? Do you miss your mom?” It was a stupid question, but I wanted to remove the focus from me. I also wanted to hear from her. I didn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t pull away.

“Horribly. You’d think all these years later, it’d get better, but there are times it hurts as much as the night it happened. I’ll never forget our nanny opening the door to the policeman. Dad was playing somewhere. I heard the words he uttered as he told her about the accident.”

“I get it. Worst night ever.” I did get it. We’d both lost our moms under similar circumstances.

“Every time there’s a knock at the door after eleven at night, I get sick inside.”

“Me, too, and I miss the sound of her voice and her laughter.”

“We have to embrace the good memories, Pax, because that’s all we have.”

I shook my head and smiled. “No, it’s not all we have. We’re both a piece of our mothers. They live inside us. We have to remember that. I like to think that she’s watching over me like a guardian angel.”

“I’d like to think that, too.”

We smiled at each other, and I didn’t feel so alone anymore. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

“So am I. I’m glad we found our way back to each other.”

“I missed our talks.” She leaned into me and gave me a hug. I hugged her back, and over her shoulder, I caught Patrick watching me with a frown on his face.

To hell with him. He didn’t have a claim when it came to Naomi. She’d been my friend first,