Page 70 of Heartbreak Hockey

It works and he relaxes. A gorgeous smile warms his face.

“So, how did you get injured?” I say, changing the subject.

“Tripping. Ovitiken’s stick. I landed hard on my right knee. Nothing’s torn, thank God, but there’s enough damage to require physical therapy and rest.”

We spend the rest of our meal catching up and it’s nice. Like reuniting with an old friend. I try on the idea of leaving with him at the end of the season. Yeah, I know he’s being all caveman and domineering, but I love that shit. Sometimes I think I’m weird for liking what I like, but it’s just the way I am. There’s no stopping it, so why not embrace it as safely as I can?

Rhett takes me back to the hotel and insists on walking me to the door of the building.

“Will Mercy be bent out of shape if I kiss you?”

Oh yeah. The reaction might be fun, but this is the wrong night for that. “I’ll be bent out of shape. Not happening, Rhett.”

He scowls. “You telling me what to do ends at the end of the season too. I’ve had about all I can take of your flippant tongue for the night.”

Good God. “Goodnight, Rhett. Hope your knee feels better.”

There’s a huff and then he moves closer, not touching, but the want of touching permeates the air. The Tom Ford cologne is strong in my nostrils. “I’m sorry. Thinking about you with him when I can’t have you angers me. I’m being a jealous, possessive prick.”

“And I fucking love jealous, possessive pricks, but there’s an art to it,” I realize as I say it. “Settle for a hug?”

“If that’s all I get.” He’s pouting. It’s pretty funny, actually.

He wraps his massive arms around me and settled within them it’s as safe as it ever was, but that note of different rings out again. Can’t put my finger on it other than to say it’s different. It’s like looking at the same picture in new lighting.

“Thanks for the hot dogs. Night, Rhett.”

“Night, sunshine.”

I head inside, checking my phone as I go. More messages in the family group chat—okay, I really should check those—and several from Mercy.

“Why aren’t you on the bus?”

He waited on the bus for me? I thought for sure he’d taken an Uber back to the hotel. I don’t get it though, the guys would have had to tell him I wasn’t going to be taking the bus to the hotel. Ah, they probably thought it better not to tell him I was with Rhett and leave that wonderful honor to me.

There are more messages.

“Don’t you think you should tell me where you’re going to be, considering our arrangement?”

And then.

“Okay, I see my mistake. I didn’t make it a rule, well now it is. You need to tell me where you’re going to be, Leslie.”

Dammit.Leslie. I can hear the way he’s typed that and it’s not a good “Leslie”.

“I know I was the one who walked out, but I was upset. I’m sorry. I planned on talking to you once I’d calmed down. Even if you don’t want to talk to me, can you tell me that you’re okay?”

I’m such a dick. I worried him.

“Neither Alderchuck will tell me where you are. They assure me you’re okay, and if you’re not, I’m knocking their heads together.”

I laugh. That would be fun to see. The rest of it’s not fun. I hop in the elevator and go straight to the top where Mercy’s staying. I knock on the door, and he answers right away as if he was close by. He’s in full gear—boots and jacket—like he was about to leave.

“Oh, Jack. Thank God.”

Merc yanks me inside by the lapels of my leather jacket and pins me to the wall first with his hands and then with a kiss.

There’s nothing missing from anything Mercy’s got. The hollow I felt when I was with Rhett is gone. In fact, there’s something extra with Merc. Special. A secret between us.