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

away but not before I caught something in his eyes that looked like regret. Panic rose inside me. I’d been dreading this moment ever since he’d had that discussion with the Sockeyes. I’d been in denial regarding how he’d act on their suggestions, but now I realized how wrong I most likely was. Hockey had been Paxton’s life since he’d been old enough to skate. He had to take them seriously. I admired his relentless dedication to his chosen career, and I’d never stand in the way of his success. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.

Searching for a distraction to bring the conversation back to something more positive, I pulled the small package from my pocket and handed it to him. “This is for you.”

He turned the small brown paper bag over in his large hand. “What is it?”

“Look and see.”

I watched as he pulled the rose-colored crystal from the sack and looked questioningly at me. I’d bought the rock partially as a joke between him and me.

“It’s rose quartz. I thought you could put it on the chain with your other crystal.”

“What does it represent?” He rolled the stone around in his palm, examining it.

“It’s to help restore harmony in your relationships and also encourages self-worth. I thought you could use it because…you…Patrick.”

He nodded slowly, took off his necklace, and added it to the chain. He pulled the chain over his head and tucked it under his sweatshirt. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I’d left out the part about that stone representing love and healing in relationships. I wasn’t sure how he’d take that right now. He met my gaze, and his smile was laced with sadness. My mouth grew dry, and my throat closed up. Something was horribly wrong.

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk privately,” he said, cementing my fears with his words.

“Okay.” My heart pounded in my chest, and my stomach lurched. Fear about our future bombarded me with doubt. Our relationship was so new and so fragile. We hadn’t had time to build a solid foundation able to weather any storm. I didn’t know if such a possibility would ever be afforded to us.

I didn’t feel so good and hoped my face didn’t reflect my fears. Whatever Paxton said, I had to believe we’d get through this. Prematurely, I’d spent part of the weekend researching possible colleges in Seattle to finish my degree, even secretly started the transfer process to see if I’d lose any credits or not.

I’d been a fool to put this much stock into our relationship.

He put his coat on, and I followed his lead. Waving to the people at the hockey table, we walked outside into the chilly night.

“Over here,” he suggested. The Biscuit had outside seating not used in the winter, but a few chairs were scattered about for smokers. Currently, no one was occupying them. I wiped one off with my sleeve and sat down. Hugging myself in a protective gesture he’d assume was because of the cold, I watched and waited for whatever came next.

Paxton pulled a chair across from me instead of next to me. Not a good sign.

“What’s going on?” I asked, wanting to get this over with.

“I’m conflicted.” He stared at his hands and wrung them in his lap. “I’m worried about my game, especially after this weekend. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what the Sockeyes said to me.”

“Wise words. You’re on the cusp of your professional career.”

He lifted his head, giving me a great view of blue eyes filled with conflict and indecision. “I don’t know what to do. You’re my rock, yet I feel torn. I don’t know how much I can put into a relationship right now. Doing something halfway hasn’t been my style, nor is it fair to you.”

I stayed quiet, afraid I’d choke if I tried to speak. I’d never dealt with real heartbreak before other than the death of my mother, and what I was feeling now came close to that. We’d only been dating a short time, but we’d been friends for a few years. The dread ripped at my insides, and I hugged myself tighter.

I couldn’t lose him right after I’d finally realized how much he mattered.

Pax was the one, and I think I’d always loved him, even if I hadn’t admitted to it before.

Yes, I loved him. A moment like this should be sung from the rooftops and celebrated. Instead, fear weighed me down and settled in the pit of my stomach.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I choked on a strangled sob and dabbed at the corners of my eyes with a napkin. I would not cry. I was stronger than that.

“I don’t want to, but there’s so much going on, and I’m torn in different directions. I feel guilty not spending enough time with you, not studying like I should, and not concentrating all my efforts on hockey. Something has to give.”

“And you think it has to be us?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I need to concentrate on school and hockey.”

“Let’s slow down. We don’t have to spend every spare minute together. We do have finals coming up in two weeks, and so much is going on all at once.” He wasn’t breaking up. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, desperate to keep him in my life in some capacity.

“Yeah, I won’t be able to spend much time with you.”

“Let’s not worry about us right now. We don’t have to be joined at the hip. You take care of business. I’ll be here when things have evened out. You take care of you. Don’t worry about me.”

Denying my problems had been my MO since my mom had died. I’d dwelled in a dream world where life was exactly what I wanted it to be. I worked hard on not overthinking things or giving concerns too much power in my life. As a result, I’d become irresponsible and wasted a lot of my high school years partying. Glossing over and burying problems was a