Page 20 of Ruled Out

Jensen continues to stare at my glass and then back up at me. “Can I get you a soda or something?”

I shake my head and then notice the way Zach observes us from the opposite end of the booth. Our captain misses nothing. His fiancée, Luna Johnson, continues to laugh and joke with Felicity and Kate as they talk about her pregnancy, but that couldn’t be further from the mood settling between us guys.

I’m on borrowed time with this team—I know it. These boys are like brothers to me, and Burrows has given me more chances than I deserve.

Ultimately, I know I’ll end up benched or shipped off to the farm team—or worse, traded. I’ve got a reputation for being a locker-room disrupter and a handful to manage, and at only twenty-six, I would be on my third NHL team since barely graduating from college.

Realistically, how many teams would want to take me on?

Realistically, how long have I got before the last decent thing exits my life?

I look back up at Jensen and blow out a long breath, studying the beer in front of me before bringing it to my lips.

CHAPTER NINE

MIA

January is a depressing month. I don’t care how people try to spin it as a “fresh start” or a “new chapter.” I hate it. It’s cold—no, fucking freezing actually—and the days are short and dark.

It’s also the first month I lived without my mom.

So, yeah, January can go fuck itself.

My plan is to live in new-year ignorance and spend the rest of it in class or the library. And that’s where I’m heading back from right now—or at least trying to make it back as I slide along the icy path leading off campus.

It’s past ten p.m., and instantly, I regret not leaving earlier to catch the last bus, even if it’s only a two-minute ride to my dorm. I left my car back in Dallas since I figured getting around a big city like Seattle would be easy enough.

But apparently only if you make the last transport.

“Mia.”

Coming to a skidding stop as my snow boots fight to find a grip, I know without looking that Jessie is behind me, and itbreaks my heart to hear him slur my name in a way that tells me he’s had way too much tonight.

“Mia,” he says again, and I turn to look at him.

Compared to the last time I saw him, he’s dressed differently. He’s wearing his postgame dark blue suit and shoes tonight, but no winter jacket.

“Jessie?”

Despite his state, he looks hot as hell as he leans against a streetlight, wearing a black beanie, his dark blond hair peeking out around the sides.

Somehow, his blue eyes shine tonight, and his rosy cheeks pinken further as he smiles when I walk toward him.

“Hey, Mia,” he says, his eyes casting down my red winter jacket, not stopping until they reach my toes—a little like the tingles his gaze sends through my body.

“W-what are you doing here?” I ask.

I haven’t heard from him in a week—since I walked out of the café and proceeded to sob into my assignment when I got back to the library. Seeing him was the best and the hardest thing for me—perhaps for both of us.

He pushes off the light and closes the few feet remaining between us.

At first, I think he’s going to bring a finger under my chin, demanding all my attention.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches to the side of my head and pulls one of my fluffy black earmuffs away from my ear. He leans in closer, and the warmth of his breath fans my face, intensifying the tingles.

“I wanted to see you. I hope you don’t mind.”

As he pulls back, he smiles down at me, and I can’t help it when I smile back, my knees shaking, but not from the cold.