My Hockey Alpha by Eve Above Story PDF

Nina The airport was like a blur of faces-tired, eager, impatient. But there was only one I cared about, one that my eyes searched for relentlessly as I stood by the front door, waiting.

It was Sunday evening, and Enzo was set to be here at any minute now. Truthfully, I had gotten so impatient waiting at hthat I showed up at the airport half an hour ago, as if it would somehow make him land faster.

But I was past the point in our relationship of being scared to seem too eager or clingy, because I knew that Enzo was probably pacing the airplane like a caged animal, too.

When I finally caught sight of Enzo's tall, muscular form walking through the arrivals gate, pulling his suitcase behind him, my heart leapt as though we hadn't seen each other in months.

"Enzo!" I pushed through the crowd, running up to him. The world seemed to fade away as his arms enveloped me, drawinginto the sanctuary of his embrace.

He chuckled and lifted me, twirlingaround once before gently settingback down and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I breathed in deeply, the familiar scent of him groundinginstantly.

"I missed you," he whispered into my hair.

too," I replied, my voice muffled against the fabric of his coat. "So much." It was funny to me, knowing how much we missed each other after just a couple of days without one another. But at the stime, it filledwith a sense of dread. What would it be like when we had to spend months apart, only seeing each other once in a while? In a way, I hoped that we wouldn't get too used to it, either. It terrifiedto think that we would get accustomed to being apart, and that eventually our reunions would feel mundane.

Eventually, Enzo and I pulled apart and made our way out to the truck.

The evening sky was brushed with hues of orange and pink as we drove hfrom the airport. Enzo looked weary but content, his eyes occasionally meeting mine with a quiet kind of happiness.

Our house welcomed us back with its warm interior and the scent of lavender from a candle that I had been burning, fillingwith a sense of comfort. And, unbeknownst to Enzo, I had ordered food from his favorite place in town; it was set to arrive soon, and I was excited to see the grin on his face when it did.

"So, how was your weekend?" Enzo asked, settling down on the sofa and stretching his legs out on the ottoman in front of him.

I looked at him, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity, and felt a lump form in my throat. I could tell him about the hospital visit, about the tests and what they meant for us and for our future.

But one glance at his face, relaxed and open, madechange my mind. The news could wait, at least for another night. Tonight was for us, for the simplicity of being together without the weight of what was coming next.

"We'll get to that later," I said, deciding to detract from myself. "I'd rather hear about your weekend first. How was the hockey team? Did you whip them into shape?" A spark ignited in Enzo's eyes as though his exhaustion suddenly and completely faded away. "Oh, man, I don't even know where to start," he said. "They need a lot of work. But they're all good kids with a lot of potential, and they're passionate about hockey. I'm excited to really get to work with them." I watched him as he spoke, his hands animated, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. It was infectious to see him so passionate about something, to see a man who was so genuinely excited about his job. Seeing him like this made it impossible not to smile.

"That's wonderful, Enzo," I said. "I'm so happy for you." "Oh, and on the flight back," he continued, oblivious to my internal emotional rollercoaster, "I was jotting down sideas in my notebook. We're going to need to do sfundraising for new equipment and maybe an away gor two. I was thinking of asking Lori if she would be interested in designing st-shirts to sell. You think she'd go for it?" "Lori would probably love that," I said, grinning at the thought of my best friend having the chance to showcase her artwork. "You should talk to her." For a while, Enzo kept gushing about his trip-the team, their personalities, their shortcomings, funny things that happened, the meals, everything. I listened intently to each and every word, genuinely excited for him.

And yet, as I looked at him, his face illuminated with the soft glow from the table lamp, my heart ached in a way couldn't even begin to describe.

He was so incredibly happy, his dreams slowly taking shape in front of him, and I was terrified that the news I had to share would throw a wrench into the life that was finally coming to fruition.

Enzo was practically bursting with ideas and projects for the future-a future that, whether he knew it or not, was on the verge of changing if I dropped this bomb on him. Did I even want to tell him now? Or would it be best to keep it to myself, to go through with my original plan for the abortion, no matter how much it hurt? As though sensing my inner turmoil, Enzo's eyes met mine with a tinge of concern. "You okay, Nina? You look far away." "Yeah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm good." "You sure?" I nodded, forcing a gentle smile as I reached over to give his hand a squeeze. "I'm sure." The glow of the bedside lamp cast soft golden beams onto the sheets, onto Enzo's skin, into the depths of his warm brown eyes. The world beyond this room seemed inconsequential, like everything could wait for us.

"I love you..."

Enzo moved above me, my legs wrapped around him as though he would somehow sheets barer Them covered us, allowing the dim lamplight and the glow of the moon to illuminate our bodies. I shivered as he ran his lips along my breasts, moaning against that full sensation of him being inside of me.

As I gently raked my fingernails across his back, I thought to myself that I needed this, to be intimate with him, even though we had only been apart for a couple of days. But suddenly, as Enzo thrust in just a little too deep, a cramp overwhelmed me.

I winced, pulling away abruptly.

"Nina? What's wrong?" His eyes met mine, concern overcoming the previous warmth of his face.

I opened my mouth to speak but hesitated, my eyes dropping to where our hands were entwined on the bed sheet.

I had planned to tell him tomorrow, to sit him down and unwrap this tangled news with care. Part ofhad even planned not to tell him at all, to go against my better judgment and deal with this in secret.

But now, looking into his eyes, waiting to tell him just seemed like another layer of deceit.

"I have news, Enzo," I finally said, sitting up with a sigh. "I was going to ཌ wait t until tomorrow to tell you, but I might as well tell you now."