If You Need Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

“You and Hemi grew up in the Muskokas, right?” Tristan Stiles, who plays right wing for the Terror, asks. He’s dating Rix Madden, his best friend Flip Madden’s younger sister. Flip is also our teammate.

We’re at the Watering Hole, our favorite local pub. The owners love us, and the people who frequent the place mostly treat us like we’re just regular folk. It’s a lot easier in the offseason, although having won the finals this year makes us more popular than usual.

“We’re on Lake Vernon. It’s in a small town a couple hours north of here. Although it’s become a popular retirement location, so it’s growing.” People will buy a piece of property on the lake and spend their spring, summer, and fall in the quiet there, then defect to warmer climates during the coldest months.

That Flip and Tristan were also born and raised in Ontario and play for an Ontario team is pretty rare. We all started our careers playing in other provinces or states, but there’s something special about being able to play for our home team.

“Do you still talk to any of the people you grew up with?” Flip asks.

I shrug. “Sure. When I visit my family, I’ll message to see if my high school buddies are around.” Some of my friends went straight into a job, often working with their dads’ small businesses in construction or landscaping. Small-town life can be like that. People like the familiarity of faces and the comfort that comes with a tight-knit community.

I went away to university, though mostly to play hockey and not because I’m an academic genius, and I also spent a couple of summers at the Hockey Academy. That’s where I met Tristan and Flip, as well as Flip’s archnemesis, Connor Grace, who plays for New York. We clocked a lot of hours on the ice, and it didn’t leave much time for socializing outside of my teammates. The guys I play with have become like family over the years. They’re my support system, along with my family back home.

I’m looking forward to seeing old classmates again this summer. It’s nice to hang out with people who knew me before the hockey fame. Although back then, I was the best player on the team, and that came with its own notoriety.

Regardless, I can see myself wanting to settle back in Huntsville when I retire from the league. I’ve already invested in a piece of property on the lake. It’s the perfect place to raise kids and get a couple of rescue dogs. But I’ve got years left in this career, and I plan to enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

“What was Hemi like growing up?” Tristan asks.

“The same as she is now. She was president of the debate team and the student council, and she ran the social justice and diversity and equity committee. She had a small group of friends she hung around with.” Hemi has always been an intense, passionate person. She’s all-in, one-hundred-and-ten percent, one-hundred-and-ten percent of the time. That’s what makes her such a force in her role with the Terror. She’s pretty amazing. But in the land of teenagers, being the smart, nerdy girl who didn’t back down and always stood up for what she believed in, even if it went against the grain—especially then—didn’t always win her points with the popular crowd. Which I was part of.

“That best friend of hers sounded like a real piece of work,” Ash notes as he sips his pop.

“Brooklyn was more like a frenemy than an actual best friend.”

“Who’s Brooklyn?” Tristan asks.

Ash gives him the abridged version of the conversation we had in Willy’s office.

Tristan’s brow pulls together. “Why does Hemi even want to go?”

I glance over at Willy. She’s sitting with the girls in one of the big round booths, laughing and smiling. She looks gorgeous, as usual. “She probably wants to prove she’s above all the bullshit. Willy doesn’t shy away from uncomfortable situations. Never show weakness is her motto.” The anxiety boner last week was a new low in our relationship. I can’t believe I pulled her into the bathroom with me and my hard-on. I’m surprised she didn’t freak out more.

I doubt she’d be impressed with me if she knew how many times I’ve accidentally imagined her angry, sultry voice in my ear during my morning shower-and-whack-off routine.

“That explains why she wants a date for this thing,” Hollis says.

“Yeah, maybe don’t ever mention Brooklyn or Sean in front of her.” My feelings of loathing for them have only grown over the years. Sean was a pompous douche, and Brooklyn was a nasty piece of work. She would talk shit about Willy behind her back. And what they did to Willy at the end…it was unforgivable. Just as unforgivable as what I did. It was one of those instances in which I unwittingly wielded my popularity as a weapon, and Willy got hurt as a result. That was the last thing I’d wanted to happen. She didn’t come to prom because of it.

“It’s too bad she’s so opposed to driving up with you,” Flip says.

He has no idea he’s poking at wounds. Both hers and mine. Of all my fuckups—and there have been many—this is the one I wish I could take back the most.

I force a smile and gulp my drink. “We have a few weeks. She might change her mind.” Wilder things have happened.

“Good luck with that,” Tristan says.

“Thanks.”

Willy and me attending our reunion together would be a great way to put Brooklyn and Sean in their place and keep her safe from their assholery. They’ve been posting relentlessly in the reunion group about how excited they are to celebrate their engagement with everyone. I already despised those two. My tolerance for their bullshit has only diminished with this new development.

“As much as I’d love to stay here all night, Aurora and I are meeting Roman at the pool in an hour,” Hollis says.

“Shilps and I are going to the movies,” Ashish announces.

“Bea and I are staying in.” Tristan rubs his mouth to hide a smile as he looks at his girlfriend.

Flip ignores him. “It’s chess night with Dred. She always kicks my ass.”

Ah, yes. Dred. Flip’s neighbor, member of Willy’s Badass Babe Brigade, and the one woman Flip truly has a completely platonic relationship with. He calls her his other “little sister.”

We settle the tab, and all the paired-up people link hands and head out.

Willy hugs Shilpa and excuses herself to the bathroom. She doesn’t even look in my direction. It’s not surprising. Her disdain for me is warranted.

Ashish arches an expectant brow. “You coming?”

“I’ll just finish this.” I hold up my half-full whiskey on the rocks. I’m probably four drinks in. “And make sure Willy gets to her car.” Then I’ll call a ride for me.

Shilpa hides a smile in Ash’s biceps. I pretend I don’t see her and also that I’m not this transparent.

He claps me on the shoulder. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I take a seat at the bar and scroll through my phone while I finish my drink. My Willy radar goes off a minute later. She’s halfway between me and the bathroom, talking to some guy.

The dude is gym fit with shoulders and biceps that pop, probably because he’s half flexing. All white-toothed smile and fancy clothes, he exudes confidence. He’ll need it with someone powerful like Willy. She could chew most men up and spit them out.

Her eyes dart my way briefly. I have a PhD in Willy’s body language, and based on her panicked expression and the way she’s crossing her arms, she’s desperate to escape. That’s rare for her. She’s usually calm, cool, and collected—apart from when she’s dealing with me.

I down the rest of my drink, slide out of the booth, roll my shoulders back, and head straight for her. As I get closer, I pick up some of their conversation. Her voice is pitchy; it’s the same tone as her voice memos after I tell her I’m running behind for a promo op. She believes I do it on purpose, but typically it’s a result of unfortunately timed boners.

Her eyes flare at my approach. “Dallas.” Her smile is manic as her hand closes around my forearm and she pulls me to her side.

“Here he is! This is him.” Her nails dig into my arm.

My dick is instantly rock solid. “Here I am.”

“Dallas, this is Bert. Bert, this is Dallas. My boyfriend.”

I’m already shocked that she’s willingly touching me, so I’m pretty sure I imagined the words my boyfriend. I look down at her, waiting for the punchline, but her smile is wide, and there’s real fear swimming in her eyes, as though she expects me to do something to embarrass her. Like deny it.

What she doesn’t realize is that I’ve been waiting a decade for this very moment. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. She’s tall. Nearly six feet of curvy, perfect woman. “Luckiest man alive.” I barely have to bend at all as I press my lips to her temple. She always smells like summer. This is the best moment of my entire life. “Bert, it’s nice to meet you.” I extend my hand. My smile feels like it could split my face in two.

He takes it, grudgingly. “Dr. Bert Cleaver.”

“Seriously?” I ask. Whiskey lips have no filter.

“Yeah. I’m a cardiologist.”

“Huh. Good for you.” Why does Willy know a cardiologist? Is she having heart problems? Does all my bullshit cause her too much stress? She’s definitely been stressed lately. More than usual.

“Thanks.” His eyes move between us suspiciously. “How long have you two been a thing?”

“Oh, it’s new. Very new. We just made it official.” She looks up at me, imploring.

I jump in with both feet. “I can’t tell you how awesome it was when she finally said yes to being my girlfriend.” I kiss her temple again. Her nails dig into my ribs. My dick rejoices. “Gotta be honest, I’ve been trying for years to get the girl. And now, here we finally are.”

“Wow. That’s…” Bert swallows compulsively and smiles woodenly. “Well, I guess you turning me down for dinner makes sense.”

I plaster a smile on my face. “How do you two know each other?”

“We went out a couple of times,” Willy says.

“Four times. We went out four times,” Bert clarifies.

“Four times. Right.” Willy’s cheek brushes my chest.

I hug her tighter to my side.

“Your dating profile is still active,” Bert states.

“I need to take that down.” Her voice rises three octaves.

I smile and stroke her cheek, tipping her chin up so I can kiss the end of her nose. “Always keeping me on my toes.”

“That’s me. The toe keeper.”

Yeah. Willy’s freaking out.

“Hey, Bert, can you take a picture? For posterity’s sake? It’s life changing when the woman of your dreams agrees to be your girlfriend. I don’t have enough pictures of us together, you know?” I pass him my phone, not giving him the chance to say no.

“Uh, sure. Okay,” he says.

I move to stand behind Willy and wrap my arms around her, nuzzling through all her long, wavy hair so I can rest my chin on her shoulder and press my cheek to hers. I’m in heaven.

“Oh my God, is that your dick poking me in the ass?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Probably. Every part of me is super excited.” I can’t help myself. I kiss her cheek. “Smile for the camera, honey.”

Her nails bite into my forearms, sharp stings that make my entire body sing with absolute fucking delight. Bert takes a bunch of pictures. I switch up the pose and wrap Willy’s arms around my waist. Now my hard-on is inconveniently pressed against her stomach. I rest my chin on top of her head and smile my face off while Bert snaps several more pictures and Willy’s talon nails dig into my back.

Bert passes me my phone.

“Thanks, man.” I clap him on the shoulder. “You’re the best. Can I buy you a beer?” I turn to Willy.

She shakes her head. “Oh, we don’t need to do that.”

“Sweetness, honeycakes, yes we do.” Fake or not, this is a big moment, and I plan to celebrate the hell out of it. More whiskey will not do. Wilhelmina trusted me enough to let me help her out of a bad situation. It’s huge progress. I call over to the bartender. “Marianna, a bottle of your finest champagne. Wills and I need to toast being madly in love. Isn’t that right, angel?” I hug her to my side. “And a beer for Dr. Bert. You’re probably an ultra-light-beer guy, right? Keeping the carbs down?” I point to his flat stomach.

“Oh, thanks, but I, uh…I should go back to the bar.” Bert thumbs over his shoulder and then gives us the thumbs-up. “Congratulations. Wilhelmina’s an amazing woman. You’re a lucky guy.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

Bert fucks off. I turn back to Marianna, who holds up a bottle of prosecco. “We don’t have champagne, but we have this.”

“Perfect. Pop that baby.”

“You don’t need to do that, Marianna. Dallas is kidding.” Willy tries to push my hand off her shoulder.

I squeeze tighter because Bert can still see us. “Isn’t she so cute? She’s just so damn cute, being all shy about how in love we are.” I hold out my free hand as I approach the bar. “You can just pass me the bottle and the glasses. I’ll do the honors. We’ll tuck ourselves into the cozy table.”

Marianna hands me the prosecco and two wineglasses. I guide Willy to the back corner and pull out a chair. She crosses her arms and glances at the bar, the stools are empty. “Bert is gone. You can stop the charade.”

I pop the cork. “Who says it’s a charade?”

Ever since I was traded to Toronto and Willy came on board, I’ve had to face my biggest fuckup, day in and day out. And I’ve fucked up a lot in my lifetime. But today is a new beginning. Today, she let me help her and didn’t tell me to eat my own dick.

She rolls her big, beautiful brown eyes. They’re the color of extra-dark maple syrup. Her lashes are thick and long, and her eyebrows are expressive and sharply contoured. And then there’s her mouth. Good God, those lips were made for kissing. Among other, less appropriate things. But definitely for kissing.

“Ugh.” She covers my face with her hand. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s weird.”

I cover her hand with mine and barely resist the urge to kiss her knuckles as I remove it. I would not put it past her to lay me out. So I hold back.

Instead, I pour two glasses of prosecco. “Went on four dates with Dr. Bert, huh?”

“Three of them were coffee. One of them was drinks.”

“I was right about the beer, wasn’t I?”

She rolls her eyes. “Close. Vodka and club soda. I’ve been trying to shake him for a couple of weeks, but he’s not great at taking a hint.” I try to hand her a glass. “What are you doing?”

“Celebrating. What does it look like?” I hold up both glasses.

She gives me another one of her looks that makes me hard.

I clink the glasses together. “To progress in our relationship.”

Gracefully, she gets up from the table. “Thanks for the save. If you rub it in my face, I’ll put you on kids’ camp check in with the aggressive parents every year for the rest of your career.” She spins, hair furling in a glorious wave, hips swaying as she heads for the door.

“Honey, what about the prosecco?”

“Enjoy the headache tomorrow.” She pushes through the door and disappears down the street.

I would chase after her if I wasn’t already half in the bag and also fairly convinced she would cause me bodily harm.

I polish off the bottle of prosecco and take an Uber home. There, I get out the good scotch and pour myself a glass. Drunkenly, I wish I could make Willy my date to our reunion. I could pose as her boyfriend. I’d prove that I’m not just the asshole prom king who lucked into being good at hockey.

While I drink my scotch, I scroll through my photos. My smile is so wide I can feel it stretching my cheeks. In most of them Willy looks stiff. But in one of them she’s smiling.

She’s so damn beautiful with those expressive eyes and that stunning smile. I hold my phone to my chest and close my eyes. Drinking a bottle of prosecco after four whiskeys and following it up with scotch definitely wasn’t my best plan.

Maybe I can convince Wills to be my date after all.

And hopefully I’ll figure out how to keep her, too.