Page 19

NINETEEN

LEXI

There’s nothing I love more than kicking men’s asses and watching them cry.

Especially when they think they’re the superior species.

None of the DC Stars guys have the toxic masculinity that sometimes finds its way to my classes when a group of dudes who have never tried Pilates think they can outlast the women who I’ve been working with for years, but it’s still fun to make professional athletes hurt for an hour during a good workout.

An invitation to Maverick and Emmy’s place for pizza means they’re not too mad at me, and I kick off my shoes in their foyer next to a ridiculous pair of bright yellow sneakers that have to belong to Ethan.

“I’m getting pepperoni and cheese,” Maverick announces over the sound of video games being played on the big-screen television in the living room. “Anyone want something different?”

“Sounds good, Cap,” Grant yells.

“Put some food in me, Mavvy,” Connor adds.

“I wish the rest of the girls were here,” Piper says after pulling me into the kitchen away from all the boys and handing me a bottle of water from the fridge. “It’s always more fun when we’re together.”

“Same. But Emmy is traveling. Maven and Madeline have kids. We’ll always come second to them,” I say.

“I’m okay with that, because they’re cute as hell, and I love being an aunt.” Piper stands on her toes and peeks over my shoulder. “Speaking of cute as hell, I saw Riley eyeing you during our class.”

“That wasn’t a subtle segue at all.” I snort and twist the cap off my water, kicking myself for leaving my reusable bottle at the studio. “And I’m sure he was eyeing me. It’s part of the routine when I give directions on the moves we’re doing.”

“He was eye fucking you.”

“Stop.” I laugh and throw the cap at her. “He was not.”

“Guess I must’ve imagined him looking at your ass then.”

“He was in the back of the room. How the hell would you have even seen that?”

“I see everything,” she says slyly. “Even Liam picked up on it, and that’s saying something. You know he never wants to get involved in people’s personal business. He’d rather gouge his eyes out than talk about someone’s relationship.”

“Such a charmer, that goalie.”

As much as I want to deny Piper’s claim, I’m not oblivious.

I could feel attention on me this afternoon. It went beyond the usual awareness I experience while teaching a class. It was intentional. Like I was being watched for a reason, and I’m not surprised it was Riley.

It seems like he’s always watching me these days. I’ll glance across the tunnel where we’re standing during the game and see his gaze flick away from me and back to the ice. In our rehab sessions, he looks my way between stretches. There’s a small smile. The dip of his chin to his chest, as if he’s embarrassed he got caught, but then he does it again.

I don’t mind.

It’s nice to be looked at, especially by him, and it’s not because I can’t get the image of him shirtless with those damn sweatpants out of my head.

His attitude shift is encouraging. Minus the four-game trip we just wrapped up that took us away from DC for a week, Riley and I have been spending time together. We’ve been texting here and there—mostly progress reports about his exercises while I was out of town—and it’s fun to know I finally have his attention after trying for weeks to get it.

“Riley and I are friends.” I move to the cabinets and grab a stack of plates to use for the pizza. “And working together. That’s all that’s happening between us.”

“That was a very neutral answer.” Piper hands me a mountain of napkins. “Did his crush magically disappear?”

Crush .

That word makes me want to blush because when was the last time someone had a crush on me?

And when did it start to make me feel giddy?

I bite on my bottom lip to stop a smile from forming, feigning nonchalance. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Are you two gossiping in here? I love a good gab session with the girls.” Grant strolls into the kitchen and grins. “I want to know what you’re talking about. Unless it’s who has the biggest dick on the team. I can tell you the answer is?—”

“Unprofessional. And not in front of ladies.” I flick his ear. “I’ll tell you what we’re gossiping about if you tell us what’s in that notebook you carry around. You’ve been holding onto it for a year.”

“It’s not important,” Grant rushes to say. “Only women’s numbers. I got hoes in every area code, you know?”

He can’t lie to save his life.

I haven’t seen Grant with a woman in months. He’s not sneaking anyone back to his room at away games. I’m not sure he’s thrown a puck to a female fan since the season started, and he’s so protective of the black leather notepad he pulls out now and then, I’m starting to wonder if he’s keeping nuclear codes in there.

Whatever he’s hiding, it must be important. He doesn’t let it out of his sight.

“Not a good enough answer to hear our gossip.” I stick out my tongue and head back to the living room with the plates.

The guys are spread out throughout Maverick and Emmy’s house. Some are playing video games. Others are sitting on the couch and talking. Ethan is shirtless—again—and asking Connor to count his abs, and I shake my head. When I spot Riley outside on the terrace, I slip away from everyone and the conversations they’re having.

Some fresh air sounds nice.

So does his company.

I pull open the large glass door that leads to the paved patio and shut it behind me. He turns at the noise, his chin on his shoulder as he looks at me.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.” I shiver at the early evening breeze, wishing now I brought my jacket with me. The sweat from class has dried, and I’m suddenly missing the warm fall weather. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“Just needed a minute. You know how the guys get. My social tolerance is less than what it used to be, and I don’t want to snap at someone for being loud because I’m pissed off at everything these days.”

“Do you want to be alone?” I walk over and stand next to him. “I understand wanting some space.”

“No. You don’t piss me off.”

“What a relief.” I smile up at him. “You did great in class today. How are you feeling? Any pain I should be aware of?”

“Better than I thought I’d feel. I know we’ve been meeting every day, but it was nice to push my body in a different way. It almost made me feel like I was part of the team again, and I haven’t experienced that since our Cup win.”

“Nothing like some torture exercises to bring people closer together.”

“And me getting my head out of my ass. I’ve been pushing the guys away, but today was a reminder that they’re my brothers.” Riley leans back from his hips and reaches for his leg, seemingly adjusting something with his prosthetic. “I can push them all I want. They’re not going anywhere.”

“They really aren’t, Riley.” I put my hand on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “None of us are.”

“It’s taken me a while to understand that, but I finally do.”

“I’m glad.” I shiver and pull my hand away so I can wrap my arms around my body. “Hell. I didn’t know the nice afternoon was going to turn into a frigid night. The temperature must’ve dropped, like, twenty degrees.”

“Hang on.” Riley takes off his glasses and tugs his sweatshirt over his head. His shirt gets stuck in the unclothing process, the thin cotton material crawling up his stomach and showing off bare skin. “I’m not cold.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want to?—”

“I wasn’t asking, Lexi. Arms up, please,” he says, and the hint of authority behind his voice has me nodding. It has my slowly lifting my arms above my head and exhaling in relief as he guides the fleece over my shoulders and down my torso. His fingers graze across my stomach when he fixes the pocket in the front, and I’m instantly warmer. I don’t know if it’s from the added layer or his touch. “There we go.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, laughing when he tugs on the drawstrings near my neck to tighten the hood. The move makes me step closer to him, but I don’t mind. Not when he moves his touch to my elbow to keep me upright. “I’m only accepting this because I like hoodies. The ones that don’t belong to me in particular.”

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

“No.” I bury my nose in the fabric. The scent of coffee and soap tickles my nose, and I do my best to hide my inhale. “I like to do things for myself. Accepting help is hard for me.”

“And watching you freeze to death is hard for me. We both can’t be winners tonight, and I don’t like to lose. Keep it for as long as you’d like,” Riley tells me.

“I’ll get you back one of these days,” I huff, my words all bark, no bite. “Are you excited to join the team at our away game next week?” Riley pivots his body so he’s facing me, and I mirror his pose. Our eyes lock, and there’s hesitation behind his gaze. “What’s wrong, Mitchy?”

“Can I tell you something that might make me an absolute asshole?”

“You could never be an asshole. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“There’s still resentment when I watch the guys play,” he says. “It’s not the same anger I had at the beginning of the season, but I’m not fully happy for them.”

“I think that’s a normal psychological reaction. They’re doing something you can’t do— yet —and it dredges up jealousy that they’re out there and you’re not.”

“That’s exactly what my therapist told me. He says traveling will be good for me. I’ve moved onto the testing stage of grief, apparently. Go me.”

“Yeah? What does the testing stage include?” I ask.

“Experimenting with new ways to cope and adjusting to what happened to me. Finding a new normal. A bunch of other zen bullshit I don’t buy into.”

Riley shrugs. He reaches my way, and for half a second, I think he’s about to touch my cheek. Oh, god . Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to? That’s not something I’ve ever considered before but now I am. What is happening? Why is—he changes direction at the last minute, dusting something off my shoulder instead, and the twinge of disappointment that flashes through me almost makes me pause.

“But fuck it,” Riley continues. “He’s getting paid. I’m getting a checkmark in the box next to the things I’m supposed to do. Everyone wins.”

“There are going to be lots of exciting things on the trip. You have the Florida sunshine. The guys on ELCs complaining about having a roommate even though they’re twenty-one. Oh . You can’t forget the food on the charter plane.”

“You have to be joking.”

“I’m serious!” I swat at him. I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. “Those cookies the flight attendants hand out are heavenly . I mentioned how much I liked them, and the new girl working our flights this season gave me a box to take home with me. I’ve been eating them for days.”

“I’ll give you the Florida sunshine, but it’s going to be awkward as hell to watch a game in an arena that’s not ours. At home, I know everyone. I can stand in the tunnel and not feel like some creep who’s lurking and staring at the athletes. In Miami, people aren’t going to know who the hell I am.”

“You could put on gear and sit on the bench,” I suggest. “As long as you’re fully dressed, you’re allowed to be there.”

“A skate that fits my prosthetic foot? I’m not sure that exists,” he says.

“We’ll figure something out.” I look him up and down, trying to see if I can spot any goosebumps after his chivalrous act of undressing benefited me, but probably didn’t benefit him. My eyes home in on his pocket, an odd shape pressing against the fabric of his gym shorts. “What the hell is that?”

“What’s what?” Riley glances down. He snorts and reaches into his left pocket. “A lime.”

“Do you regularly carry fruit around with you?”

“No.” He tosses it in the air, catches it, and switches it to his other hand. “I wasn’t sure Maverick had any. I stopped at the store on the way over.”

“You—” I blink. It feels like I’m missing the punchline of a joke. “I’m confused.”

“You mentioned you liked limes in your drink. Didn’t know if that only applied to cocktails or all forms of fluid.”

“When did I mention that?”

“June,” he says simply, and he leaves it at that.

I stare at him. For a second, it feels like the world tilts on its axis, because what the fuck do you mean he brought me a lime because he remembered an offhanded comment I made months ago? And— god . Come to think of it, it was the night we were all out celebrating The Cup. The night he lost his leg. The night his entire life changed.

What is he doing remembering my drink preferences?

“Oh.” I swallow, not sure what else to say. My heart is somewhere near my throat because it’s trying to escape my body. My skin is prickly with awareness. What the actual fuck is this unknown feeling coursing through me? “Right.”

Gratitude, I think.

Awareness of a man doing something nice for me because he wants to, not because he wants to sleep with me.

Friendship that differs from what I have with the girls.

Riley wraps his fingers around my wrist and slowly turns my hand face up. His thumb brushes along the vein on the inside of my wrist before he lets go and sets the lime in the center of my palm.

“Which is it?” he asks.

“Which is what?”

“The lime preference. Is it in all drinks? Cocktails only?”

“You really want to know?”

“Mhm.” Riley leans in, invading my space, and I don’t do anything to make him leave. “I really do. Won’t be able to sleep tonight until you tell me, actually.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” I grip the lime and bring it to my chest, my eyes on his. “I like it in all my drinks. I have a bottle of lime juice I keep in my fridge, but it’s not as good as the real thing. Always slips my mind when I’m at the store.”

“I can be your lime guy.” He tosses me a coy smile. “If you want.”

“I like the sound of that.” I smile and slip the lime in my pocket. “Thank you, Mitchy.”

“You’re welcome.” Riley tugs on the drawstrings again, and I inhale sharply. “Are you warm enough?”

I’m way past warm.

My body is a goddamn inferno.

“Yeah,” I say. Piper waves at me through the doors, and I hold up a hand to tell her I’ll be right there. “I’m great. Fine. Dandy.”

“You told me you were hard to impress. How am I doing?” he asks, and a laugh rattles out of me.

“I’m on my way to being impressed.”

“Good.” He looks up at the moon. His dimple pops, and gosh is he pretty. “Patience is a virtue. I’ll get there one day.”

“I can’t wait to see you try,” I say, and I sure as hell mean it.