Yearn For Me: A Hockey Romance (The Banks Sisters Book 2) Read online

  Dane is good at the silent, strong thing.

  “Don’t you have to go to practice?”My voice is muffled but he knows what I said. I think.

  “Have to be there at 10, I’ve got a little time.” He murmurs, stroking my back. I feel like such a child, but it feels so nice. “Are you done or do you want me to tuck you in too?”

  I pull away, scowling. “You’re the worst.”

  He winks. Damn long eyelashes. “Your tears make me uncomfortable. How much of an ass do I have to be to take you straight to annoyance?”

  “I hate you a little.” I narrow my eyes, turning to the island and grabbing a chocolate chip cookie. I stuff it in my mouth and he stares at me, unimpressed.

  “Only a little? Should I tell you about the girl I kicked out this morning whose name I still can’t remember?” He pulls me away from the counter when I start to reach for another cookie and I pout.

  There’s so many. Another won’t hurt.

  “Why am I friends with you?” I sit next to him on the couch and he pops my legs over his lap, grabbing the throw blanket from the back of my couch and spreading it over our legs.

  “You’re the one who kept petting my biceps that night, then insisted I give you my number and snapchat you pictures of my arms.”

  I feel myself redden, thinking back on that night.

  Freakin’ Mickey and her brownies.

  How was I supposed to know they weren’t just regular triple chocolate brownies? They tasted exactly the same! I’d never had pot in my life.

  Imagine my surprise when I woke up the next morning with blurry memories from drinking and apparently really potent weed.

  “You had zero shame at sending me pictures though.”

  He shrugs, patting my leg.

  “I have great arms.”

  “So, the chick from last night? Distract me from the fact that my life has no purpose for the next 6 months.” I take a deep breath, but I think I’ve got all the tears out.

  God, I’m going to look like a puffer-fish later.

  “Met her at The End Zone, took her home, the rest is history.”

  “Did she blow you?”

  “If you’d seen my dick, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.” He smirks, and I shake my head, ignoring the bait.

  Thankfully my resolve is legendary.

  “I liked it better when you did the whole I’m too hot to communicate thing.”

  “That wasn’t a thing, I don’t like to waste words.”

  “Well, your statement is still false because if I remember correctly, the last one said something about blowjobs being offensive to feminism.”

  Kind of crazy to me since I always felt like I had all the power whenever I gave blowjobs.

  It’s been awhile since I’ve felt that though, since the guy I’m seeing doesn’t like them. He doesn’t like giving oral either, but I can’t really complain since he’s not a hypocrite about getting it.

  “I actually liked her…whenever she stopped talking.” He muses. “Have you told Asshole about today yet? Maybe he’ll actually take you out now.”

  Even the thought of my…boyfriend? I don’t know, it’s still early and we haven’t exactly had the DTR talk.

  Even mentioning him, Dane’s entire face looks set in stone.

  “I left him a message because he was unavailable. Why don’t you like him? I thought you two got along fine when you met.”

  “We spoke maybe 10 words to each other and I wanted to punch him in the throat.”

  “That’s violent.” I wince. “He’s a good guy.”

  “I don’t trust men that don’t give oral. Hell, the fact that he doesn’t like blowjobs baffles me. Oh, and he’s a little bitch for his I just want to keep things private a little longer rhetoric.” He smiles, the look in his eye predatory. “I’d gladly rock his shit if we were on the ice.”

  I glance at my watch, making sure he isn’t staying longer than he should just to keep me company. I ignore the comment about Michael being a little bitch.

  I try to ignore a lot of things involving Dane, hard as that is.

  I’m completely fine with Michael not wanting to go public with our relationship yet.

  Most of the time.

  “How are you more mad about our bedroom activities than I am? How exactly does that work?” I ask.

  “You’d be mad about it too if someone had done it correctly.” I tilt my head to the side, crossing my arms.

  The man has all the nerve in the world.

  “Maybe I just don’t like…all of that. That’s completely normal, you know.”

  “I’m sure it is. That’s fine…for other women who haven’t drunkenly confessed how much they wish their boyfriend would get more intimately acquainted.” He widens his eyes in faux innocence and my jaw drops.

  “That’s a lie.” I snatch my legs off his lap.

  “I don’t need to lie. I can’t make this stuff up. Drunk Keyra is my third favorite, next to Protective Keyra. Business Keyra is good, but scarier.”

  “And the first favorite?” I can’t believe I said that, but I’m still curious.

  “Regular Keyra of course, Baby-cakes.” He stands. “You’re not gonna cry again, are you? Because I’ve gotta go and I can’t hold you.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come over and hold me.” I punch his arm, walking him towards the door.

  Then I remember all the cookies. I rush back to the kitchen and pull out the largest Tupperware container I have and start dumping cookies into it.

  I thrust it at him, and at the last second, give him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what? You’re coming to our game tonight right?” I nod, and his lips lift in his quirky little side grin, and I watch him walk down the hallway and to the elevator.

  I close my door and lean back against it, sighing.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been more infatuated in my life, and I have no idea what to do to make it go away.

  4

  Dane

  We do about a 20 to 30 minute morning skate to get the blood flowing, keep things sharp.

  Once that’s done, I have lunch with the guys then head back home for a bit and get an hour and a half to two hours nap time in.

  I do almost the same thing every game day. Get up from my nap, grab a snack, shower and throw on my suit then head to the rink.

  The difference today was Keyra was the one having a meltdown for once.

  Usually, she’s handling everyone else’s.

  I’ve got about 2 and a half hours before the game when I get to the rink.

  I tape my sticks from mid-blade to toe. I always put my equipment on from left to right.

  We go over video and review the other team’s players and their systems, their tendencies and spend the rest of the time warming up.

  When that puck drops, that’s when shit gets real. Hell, it’s real the moment I step into the arena but when you’re watching that face-off happen…raring to go…waiting for the moment that puck hits the ice and play starts…

  The only thing going through my mind is what to do next. You’re trying to keep a good mix of making a decision in the moment and staying ahead of the opposing players.

  It’s war on this ice. Everyone’s just out here trying to do their best.

  All the skating from red line to red line drills, or goal line to goal line.

  The practicing my transition skating, pivoting by using my skate edges and transferring my center of gravity.

  Making sure I practice crisp passes from the goal line to the winger on the boards or the center, cutting down the circle for support to help the break out.

  It’s all for this. For this feeling.

  We’re in OT and no one has scored. We’ve got a little over 14 minutes to go.

  It’s been fucking grueling but we’re pushing, playing hard as ever because nobody wants to watch the playback and realize they were basically sitting on their asses.

  I’
ve always been considered a playmaker.

  Sometimes I don’t have the best shot, so I need to find something that works for me.

  I like passing the puck, I like setting up teammates and it just developed into my game.

  In practice, I try to pass from different angles, backhand, forehand, add some sauce. I always just try to work on it.

  I like passing with my backhand, and there's a reason for that. Mostly for me, it's just a matter of changing the angle.

  A lot of times guys try and take your pass away on your forehand, so if you try and get it on your backhand, it's going to change the angle of the puck and change the angle of where your teammate is.

  In fact, it changes the distance, too. Whether it's five inches or four inches, you change the angle by bringing it to your backhand.

  I feel comfortable on my backhand, so I like using it.

  I've also gotten very comfortable with the stick I use and it helps with my passing. I have a pretty straight curve. There's not much of a curve to it, so I think it helps a little bit.

  But with sticks and blades, it's just a matter of getting used to it.

  I'm used to my blade now, I like using it, so for me, my game and my ability to pass- it's perfect.

  I try to position myself in the right spots and make nice plays to set up my teammates, but by now it's more of a thing that just comes with regularity.

  My vision has always been one of my strengths, too. It's always been a big part of my game.

  I have the gift, I guess, to see the ice pretty well and it's nice to have that.

  When you’re at ice level, things are really chaotic. Everything’s moving so fast around you. Maybe there’re ruts in the ice. Maybe there’s a defenseman stepping up on you, or you’re getting hacked from behind. You’re looking down at the puck in your periphery. You’re trying to process where your teammates are. And you’re trying to do all this at full-speed.

  It makes it a lot easier for my passing, to find seams or to find the open guy.

  Lately, that guy has been Leo.

  It's nice passing to Leo. Sometimes you get him the puck in a normal spot where maybe other guys wouldn't be able to make too much out of it, but he seems to make stuff happen out of nothing.

  I like passing the puck to him, I like looking for him. Leo gets results.

  If you play with him, that's what you have to do. You have to get him the puck and you have to understand when he wants the puck and when he doesn't want the puck.

  Luckily for us, with 3 minutes left in OT… he wants the puck.

  I get down low below the goal line and make a pass Grundel because it’s the only way I can see to get it close to Leo. As soon as the puck is sliding out to Grundel, Leo’s already shifting his hips and going to the spot at the back post, going for the one-timer.

  Fucking score.

  Everyone immediately rushes Leo, tired but happy and cheering.

  That’s why when it goes from celebrating to Leo skating by the Leaf’s bench and two seconds later, they’re shoving and hopping the divider…I don’t question it, I just head into the fray.

  This is my team, and you don’t sit on the sidelines for your team.

  5

  Keyra

  “Holy shit.” I breathe, staring at the all- out brawl happening on the ice.

  Kaija and I look at each other in disbelief, looking around at the cheering, rowdy fans and back at the group of grown ass men acting like they’re in the bar fight of their lives.

  One second, we got off a shot and scored as the game ended…the next, chaos.

  Shit moves way too quickly for me to keep up sometimes.

  “I go to get one drink and they lose their minds?” Mickey holds a beer in her hand, mouth gaping.

  Fights? Sure. FULL TEAM BRAWLS??! That’s a whole different ball game I haven’t seen.

  The refs are trying to settle everyone and pull them apart, but they’re having a hard time and I feel bad for them. Hockey players are tough fuckers.

  “This is old-time hockey right here. Bench clearing brawls? Rare now.” A man behind us in a New York Kings hat, a dark tee and a navy blue jacket speaks up, nodding at the glass. “The good stuff.”

  I beg to differ, I hate seeing the guys fight. Especially because I know them, that makes it even worse.

  Goddamn hockey.

  It’s not the first fight of the game, but it’s definitely the craziest. Whistles are blowing everywhere and MSG is basically shaking with how loud the fans are being.

  I can’t see where our boys are in the fray, just glimpses here and there but I send up a little prayer that they keep everything intact.

  “You look real worried, girlie. One of those your beau?” I’d forgotten about the man and I glance up and to the side again, not really caring for the tone of his voice. He’s also giving me creeper vibes, and I can’t fully see his eyes under the brim of his cap.

  “Friends.” I murmur back, sliding a little closer to Mickey and Kaija. They’ve moved a little further down to see.

  The man either doesn’t take the hint or is oblivious and sticks his hands in his pocket, raising his voice a little more.

  “My son’s down there.” He tips his chin to the ice, his mouth doing something that doesn’t quite look like a smile. “#62”

  “That’s really nice.” The words fly out of my mouth automatically, politely. Then I realize whose number he’s said.

  That’s the number on Dane’s jersey.

  I look back at the ice where everyone’s breaking up and heading towards the locker rooms, and when I glance back, the man is already exiting his aisle.

  I don’t know what to think.

  Dane told me his father was dead.

  “Next round’s on me!” Everyone cheers and Leo takes drink orders and heads to the bar with Harlan.

  A few of the other players are scattered around Pour House, playing pool and celebrating their win.

  I can’t stop thinking about that man.

  Just because he said it, doesn’t mean it’s true.

  I, of all people, know that.

  “You’re quiet. Not thinking about work, are you?” Kaija hands me a peach brew and it’s the only one I drink. Perks of your sister owning the bar, she even keeps your obscure favorites around.

  “Work? Why would I think about work? I’m not allowed back there.” I scoff, and she laughs, though I’m not amused.

  “Dad told us he was going to do it. We knew if anyone asked you to leave or gave you a heads up, you would’ve given even more push-back.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, leaning her elbows on the table. “You deserve a very extended vacation.”

  “What if I don’t want a very extended vacation?” Luckily I already got all of my more volatile emotions out and I don’t feel any more tears welling up. Today was the first time I truly cried in…well…almost ever.

  “Personally, I think you should open a bakery.” Harlan comes up, setting a tray of drinks down on the table and kissing Kaija on the cheek. “Those snickerdoodles you gave Dane? Melted in my mouth.”

  “Baking is my fun activity.” I wrinkle my nose, shaking my head. “If I make it into something I do all the time and for profit, it becomes more stressful.”

  “So what are you thinking? You could travel…you could have a wild, passionate fling…you could join a nudist colony and be free 24/7…” I purse my lips. Kaija’s face is actually serious like those are viable options for this forced vacation.

  I don’t do wild.

  “Wild just means reckless. I don’t do reckless. I was looking for a few openings today wi—.”

  “Bitch.” Kaija slams down her drink and I blink hard, taken aback. “You are not taking another job. Fucking relax!”

  “Your language is rude.” I sniff, taking a sip of my beer and sighing. I groan and lay my forehead on the table. “I just want to work, why is that so bad? What’s wrong with wanting to be doing something?”

  “There’s nothing w
rong with it when you can separate yourself from it. Honestly, Keyra, I think it’s become a crutch. A way for you to have an excuse for not devoting time to anything else because you’re so busy with everyone else.” My sister’s voice is matter-of-fact. She’s got it all figured out, this one.

  “You go and get into one great relationship and now you want to nitpick my life?”

  “You’ve been nitpicking my life for years.” She shoots back, shaking her head. “I’m nitpicking because work doesn’t keep you warm at night, and neither does Michael.”

  “That’s the exact reason heaters and blankets were invented.” I deadpan, my eyes moving over everyone and finding Dane’s dark head at the edge of the room.

  “I think it’s hella weird that Michael is basically Casper. Why haven’t I met him and Dane has?”

  “Dane meeting him was a coincidence.” I murmur, distracted. Looks like Dane’s found his next one-night stand.

  She’s a curly-haired brunette who used a little too much self-tanner. It’s winter, lady. Nobodies natural tan is that good unless you were born with it.

  Well shit.

  I blink. Damn, I’m usually not so bitchy. Towards women I don’t know, that is.

  Everyone else is free game.

  Kai told me before that Dane used to be much more reserved and didn’t care for hookups, but in the past few months, I guess something’s changed.

  I tear my eyes away from the cozy pair, ignoring the pang it sends through me.

  That would be a reckless decision. He’s too close to everything, there are too many ways we could go wrong and then everyone would take sides. That’s not something I’m willing to put into motion.

  I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and pull it out, putting up a finger to Kaija before she can berate me again. “It’s Michael.”

  “Ask him if he prefers being called secretive or full-of-shit.” I shoot her my middle finger as I walk away towards the bathrooms for a little more quiet.

  “Hey, I thought y—.”

  “Where are you right now?” He cuts me off, and I pull back for a second, staring at the phone.