Page 17

CHAPTER 17

DIXON

B en’s basement is like something out of a family magazine—the kind with pictures of perfect gatherings, where everyone smiles around a platter of chicken wings. The place is massive, with ceilings high enough to keep it from feeling like a cave. There’s a plush sectional in one corner that can seat the entire coaching staff and a few team members to boot, and a wall-mounted TV dominates the room, currently muted with some sports highlights playing in the background.

The centerpiece of the space is a long, worn oak table that looks older than Ben himself. It’s scarred and scratched, the kind of table that’s seen everything from intense poker nights to disastrous craft projects. Tonight, it’s piled with snacks: bowls of chips, platters of cookies, and a suspicious-looking casserole that no one’s dared to touch yet.

A shelf runs the length of one wall, lined with board games in various states of wear. Monopoly boxes with taped corners, decks of cards spilling out of their rubber bands, and a stack of brightly colored charades prompts sit front and center. The rest of the room is littered with mismatched chairs and beanbags, pulled into clusters where small groups are chatting or watching the game currently in progress.

Ben stands near the snack table, holding a clipboard that seems wildly unnecessary for charades but somehow very on-brand for him. His wife, Molly, leans against the sectional, laughing at something Cannon just acted out—a dramatic and over-the-top impression of a penguin.

“Alright, team,” Ben calls, clapping his hands together. “Next round. Let’s see if Dixon’s group can keep from embarrassing themselves.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning as I stand up. “We’re not the ones who guessed ‘fridge’ when the answer was clearly ‘washing machine,’ Coach.”

That earns a laugh from the room, and Ben just shakes his head, muttering something about players who think they’re comedians.

Elle’s perched on one of the barstools by the kitchen nook, her legs crossed, and she’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt that hugs her curves just enough to make it impossible not to look. She’s sipping from a tumbler, watching the chaos around us unfold with a mix of amusement and quiet detachment. It’s the same look she wears at the rink when she’s analyzing plays. Calculating, focused, and a little intimidating, honestly. Except for the fact that I know another side of her now. Not just because of the kissing, but after our texting yesterday, I’m starting to like that side of Elle Carter and I want…no, I need to see it more.

“Alright, Dixon,” Molly says, breaking me out of my thoughts. She waves the next charades card in the air. “You’re up. Let’s see those acting skills.”

I step into the open space in the middle of the room, grabbing the card from her hand. My team is scattered on the sectional, looking equal parts curious and worried. Elle tilts her head, her lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

The card has two words on it, and I groan when I read it.

“You’ve got thirty seconds!” Ben announces, starting the timer on his phone.

With a deep breath, I launch into the most ridiculous attempt at miming “bungee jumping” anyone’s ever seen.

I squat down, pretending to strap myself into some invisible harness, and immediately Campbell lets out a loud snort from the sectional. “What are you doing, bro? It looks like you’re about to poop in the woods.”

I shoot him a glare, then mime pulling on a rope and bouncing on an imaginary ledge.

“Wait!” Sawyer claps his hands together, laughing so hard he nearly topples off the armrest of the couch. “He’s tugging on a bell, like in a clock tower…the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”

“I swear, you’re the worst teammates,” I grumble, now flapping my arms like a lunatic in the universal gesture for ‘falling’. “And his name was Quasimodo, but no, not that.”

Ollie leans forward, squinting at me like I’m an impressionist art exhibit he’s trying to warp his head around. “Skydiving?” he guesses, his voice hopeful.

“No!” I point at him, while mouthing I’m sorry because I shouted my reply, then back to myself, before pretending to fall again.

“He’s a waving inflatable tube man at the car lot!” Campbell cries out, still cracking up.

“No! It’s bungee jumping, you guys!” I shout, flailing one last time before the timer on Ben’s phone goes off.

The room erupts into laughter as I throw my hands in the air in defeat. Ben smirks from the snack table. “Well, I think we’ve all learned something tonight. Dixon’s future in acting is nonexistent.”

“We’ll keep him as our goalie, then.” Campbell slaps me on the back as I plop down next to him on the sectional. “You tried. That was some top-tier nonsense.”

“You sold it alright,” Ollie adds, grinning. “For a second, I thought you were auditioning for Survivor or Bear Grylls.”

“I think that next time, you should mime ‘hockey player.’” Sawyer winks at me. “It’s the only thing you’re actually good at.”

I bark out a laugh despite myself, shaking my head. “Remind me why I hang out with you guys?”

“Because we make you look good,” Campbell jokes with a grin.

“Debatable,” I shoot back.

As the next round starts, I catch myself glancing Elle’s way yet again. She’s still perched on that stool, her tumbler now half-empty, the barest hint of a smile on her lips. She must’ve noticed me watching because she tilts her head slightly, her eyebrow arching in that way that always makes me feel like she’s two steps ahead of me.

I quickly look away, focusing instead on Ben, who’s now miming something that looks suspiciously like a duck having a seizure.

“Focus, Dixon,” Campbell mutters under his breath. “Or you’ll end up acting like that again.”

I shove him lightly, my gaze flicking back to Elle before I can stop myself. She’s talking to Anna now, Ollie’s better half and Ben’s former assistant. Elle’s hands move animatedly, and for a moment, the chaos of the room fades into the background.

Whatever she’s saying makes Anna laugh, and Elle’s face softens into a smile that catches me off guard. It’s not the sharp, calculating expression she usually wears at the rink. It’s warm, easy, real.

“You’re staring,” Sawyer whispers, leaning in close enough for only me to hear. “Dude, you’ve got a crush, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, turning back toward the game.

“Of course he does.” Campbell chuckles. “You can see it when he’s with her.”

“I’m going to hurt one of you.” I wag a finger their way. These two are cousins but were raised as brothers and you can tell. Especially when they attempt to gang up on you. “Not sure which one, but one of you will feel the wrath.”

“The wrath,” Sawyer snorts.

But even as the night rolls on, she becomes the habit I can’t break. I can’t seem to stop my eyes from finding her, like some invisible thread keeps pulling me back.

It feels like we’ve been at this for hours when Ben finally calls time, declaring everyone needs to refill their drinks and stretch before the next round. I head to the fridge for a water, taking my time as the others mill around. The room buzzes with chatter, but my focus shifts when I hear Elle’s voice, smooth and low, cutting through the noise.

She’s standing with Molly near the bar, her hands gesturing as she talks. I grab my water and lean against the counter, pretending not to eavesdrop, even though I am.

“She’s thriving, her hockey skills are insane and she’s staying on top of her schoolwork,” Elle says, smiling as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “If I had to place an order for the perfect child, it would be for Hayden.”

“And she’s helped out with Dixon’s nana, I hear?” Molly asks.

“Nan’s pretty independent, but she and Hayden really hit it off. Dixon says Nan enjoys her company, which, from what I’m learning about Nan, is saying something.”

“Oh yeah, it is,” Molly says, sipping her drink. “It’s hard to find someone who clicks in with this group, but when they click in with our families, too, it’s like the whole situation was heaven-sent.”

“It really is,” Elle agrees softly. “Hayden even volunteered to stay with her tonight so Dixon could come here solo. Not bad for a teenager.”

Molly chuckles. “Sounds like your niece is a good kid.”

“She’s got her moments, but she’s really stepped up a lot the past few months,” Elle says with a hint of pride.

I take a sip of water, forcing myself to look casual, but my chest tightens at the mention of Nan. She’d insisted I come tonight, saying she didn’t need me hovering, but it still feels strange not being the one there for her. Knowing Hayden’s with her, though, takes some of the edge off.

Ben strides into the room, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Hey, Mol, do we still have that set of folding chairs? We need them for the next game.”

“They’re in the garage,” Molly says, setting her glass down.

“I can grab them,” Elle offers immediately, stepping toward the door.

Ben shakes his head. “They’re stacked under the camping gear. Heavy as a box of bricks.”

“I’ll help,” I say, the words out of my mouth before I can think better of them.

Elle’s head snaps in my direction, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if reading my mind. “You don’t have to?—”

“It’s no trouble,” I cut her off, already moving toward the door. “You can’t carry all that on your own.”

Molly smiles. “Thanks, Dixon. It’ll save Ben from knocking something over.”

Ben grunts in acknowledgment, but I barely register it as Elle lets out a resigned sigh and gestures for me to follow her.

“Fine,” she says, her tone filled with faux reluctance. “But don’t slow me down.”

I smirk. The word slow didn’t even come to mind, but now that it’s there...“Not a chance.”

The garage is cool and dimly lit, the scent of sawdust and motor oil lingering in the air. Elle heads toward the shelves at the far end, her boots clicking against the concrete.

“They’re under the tent bags,” she says, pointing to a stack in the corner.

I roll up my sleeves and crouch down, shifting the camping gear out of the way. Elle stands nearby, arms crossed, watching me with a raised brow.

“You know,” I say, glancing up at her, “you could at least pretend to be impressed.”

Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile. “I’ll save my applause for when you don’t drop them on your foot.”

“You know that won’t happen.” I chuckle, pulling out the chairs and hefting them up. “Hockey players have great footwork.”

“I’ve seen your penalty minutes. Footwork’s not exactly your strong suit,” she shoots back, but there’s a flicker of amusement in her eyes now.

I carry the chairs toward the door, and she grabs the door handle, holding it open for me. As I pass by, our shoulders brush, and for a split second, the air between us feels charged.

“Thanks for volunteering to help,” she says, her voice quieter now.

I pause, setting the chairs down just inside the door. Her eyes meet mine, and there’s something unspoken that makes my pulse kick up a notch.

“You’re welcome,” I murmur, taking a step closer. My eyes flick to her head, where the lump was from her near miss a few days ago. “How’re you feeling?”

Her hand starts to go to her temple, but she drops it. “It’s a reflex to want to rub it,” she says with a half-laugh. “I’m better. Not as achy, and I’ve learned to not have the volume up so high on my headphones now.”

“Good. That scared me,” I murmur. “I’d like it if you stayed around for a long time, Heels.”

There’s a subtle grin, and she doesn’t move away. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, her gaze flicking to my mouth and back again. It’s all the permission I need.

Before I can second-guess myself, I reach for her, one hand sliding around her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck. Her breath catches, and then her hands are on my chest, fingers curling into my shirt as I pull her against my chest.

Our mouths crash together, heat and desperation spiraling between us. Her lips are soft, intoxicating, and when she kisses me back, it’s like she’s pouring weeks of tension and unspoken frustration into it.

She tastes like mint and something sweeter, and I can’t get enough. My hand trails down her back, pulling her even closer as I lean her against the wall. Her body fits against mine like it was made for this, like we’ve been building to this moment since we met.

Her fingers tangle in my hair as she tilts her head, deepening the kiss. I groan against her mouth, and she responds by wrapping her arms around my neck, her body arching into mine. I grip her thighs, lifting her easily, and she doesn’t hesitate—her legs wrap around my waist, locking us together in a way that makes my head spin.

“Dixon,” she whispers, her voice breathless and laced with need.

I bury my face in her neck, pressing kisses along her skin as her nails scrape lightly against the back of my neck. My heart’s pounding so hard it’s almost deafening, and all I can think about is her—her scent, her warmth, the way she feels in my arms.

“Am I slowing you down?” I ask with a rasp to my voice, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen, and she’s never looked more beautiful.

The moment is perfect—until it’s shattered by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Uh... should I come back later?”

We both freeze, our heads snapping toward the doorway. Campbell stands there, wide-eyed and holding a bottle of soda, his jaw slack.

“Oh, for the love of—” Elle mutters, scrambling out of my arms. I set her down reluctantly, trying to catch my breath as she smooths her hair and shirt.

“I knew it!” Campbell looks between us, then shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “Not even the slightest bit surprised. I saw this coming a mile away.”

“Campbell,” I start, stepping forward, “you didn’t see anything. Got it?”

His brows shoot up. “Really? Because I think I just saw you two trying to reenact a scene from a movie that’s not exactly PG.”

Elle groans, covering her face with her hands. “This cannot get out, Campbell. I mean it.”

He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Relax. I’m not gonna tell anyone. But you two better figure out what this is, because folks are already feeling your snap, crackle, and pop when you’re on the ice. If sparks like that start flying during charades, someone’s gonna notice.”

I glare at him. “Seriously. Not a word.”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now.”

Elle peeks out from behind her hands, her expression equal parts mortified and grateful. “Thank you.”

Campbell shrugs, pushing off the doorframe. “You owe me.” He wags a finger my way, then towards Elle. “Both of you. I will collect.” With that, he turns and walks away, leaving us alone again.

Elle exhales sharply, her shoulders sagging. “This is trouble, isn’t it?”

I step closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Maybe. But if it is, it’s worth it.”

She looks up at me, her lips curving into a small, hesitant smile. “We’ll see about that.”