Page 11 of In My Hockey Era (Must Love Hockey #1)

NOT ALL HEROES WEAR SKATES

Bennett

C hecking my reflection in the mirror one last time, I run a hand over my freshly shaved jaw.

After a thorough shower and some, uh, strategic manscaping, I’m feeling good.

Ready. Tonight is important, and I pulled out all the stops—fresh haircut, nicest button-down I own, I had my SUV detailed earlier and I even made a reservation at that upscale steakhouse downtown. The one with the two-month waitlist.

I even researched the wine list so I could order without sounding like a dumbass. Not that I even know if Lucy is a wine drinker. I guess I’ll find out. I’m kind of surprised she actually said yes to going out with me.

I grab my watch off the dresser and fasten it around my wrist just as my phone buzzes on the nightstand. My stomach tightens. It’s Lucy.

Lucy: Hey, so… I don’t think tonight is a good idea. Had the shift from hell. I might actually be dead inside.

Frowning, I sit down on the edge of my bed. I was looking forward to this, but more than that, I don’t like the sound of her message.

Me: That bad, huh?

A moment passes, and then she replies. I brace myself.

Lucy: Worse. I just want to curl up in a ball and disappear for a while.

I don’t even hesitate. I hit call.

She picks up after a few rings, her voice groggy and miserable. “I was hoping you’d take the hint and let me wallow.”

“Not happening,” I say, leaning back against the headboard. “We can scrap the date, no problem. Whatever you need. But have you eaten?”

A pause. Then a sigh. “Bennett.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Silence stretches between us. Then, quietly, she says, “No.”

I shake my head. “Thought so. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna go take a hot shower, put on some comfy pajamas, and I’ll be there soon with food.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, but her voice has softened.

“I know I don’t have to,” I say. “I want to. I’ll literally just drop your food and go if you want me to. Your personal DoorDash.”

She exhales, long and slow. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

I grin. “I do. But what sounds good? Chinese? Burgers? Thai? Pizza? Sushi?”

A reluctant pause. “A burger. With fries.”

“Done. Go shower. I’ll see you soon.”

I hang up and grab my keys, already pulling up the best burger joint in town on my phone. Because if I can’t take her on the perfect first date, I can at least bring her the perfect meal.

She’s used to grinding it out in a tough industry, and I have a sneaking suspicion she forgets to take care of herself. If I have to be the one to make sure she eats, sleeps, and lets herself have fun for once, then so be it. It’s a role I’m happy to play.

Another text came through while I was waiting in the drive-thru. It was a message from Lucy informing me that if they had milkshakes, she was a strawberry kind of girlie.

I grin at this detail and order the shake.

Me: Cheese on the burger? Or no cheese?

I can’t remember if she told me on the phone.

Lucy: Cheese, obviously. I’m not a monster, Bennett!

I chuckle and order the rest of the food.

Lucy’s apartment complex is quiet when I pull into the lot, streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. I grab the takeout bag from the passenger seat and jog up the stairs, finding her unit number and knocking lightly.

A few seconds later, the door cracks open, and Lucy peers up at me.

Her dark eyes are tired, shadowed with something heavy.

She’s scrubbed clean of makeup, her hair is loose and wavy and she’s wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and a faded Stampede T-shirt that’s about two sizes too big.

She looks… small. Like the weight of the day is still pressing down on her, making her shrink in on herself.

I hold up the takeout bag. “Emergency cheeseburger delivery.”

She exhales a laugh, but it barely makes it past her lips. Then, instead of taking the food and sending me on my way like I expect, she hesitates.

“Do you, um…” Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, and she shifts her weight. “Do you want to come in? You must be hungry too.”

I blink, a little thrown. I was already prepared to drop off the food and head home, not wanting to crowd her. But she’s standing there, looking kind of lost and wrecked, and how the hell am I supposed to say no to that?

“If you’re sure.”

She nods, stepping back to let me in.

Lucy’s apartment is small but warm, cozy in a way that’s completely her.

A deep green couch with a throw blanket slung over the arm.

Overstuffed bookshelves lining the far wall, packed full and barely containing the sheer amount of reading material she’s collected.

String lights glow softly around the window, and a few framed photos sit on a side table—one of her with another woman who must be her best friend, and another of her in her uniform, beaming.

Then, before I can take in anything else, I hear the soft jingle of a collar and a low huff.

A second later, a dog—a big, fluffy white one—comes trotting around the corner, stopping in his tracks when he sees me. His ears perk up, tail flicking.

“Who’s this guy? Is this the famous Max?” I ask, watching as he eyes me with quiet scrutiny.

Lucy finally looks a little lighter when she bends to scratch behind his ear. “This is Max. He’s my rescue. Max, say hi.”

Max doesn’t look totally convinced I’m worthy of a greeting yet, but after a moment of consideration, he sniffs in my direction and lets out a short, approving huff.

“I’ll take it,” I say.

Then he trots over to me with his tail wagging and I bend down to give him a thorough petting.

Lucy sighs and sinks onto the couch, rubbing a hand over her face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be terrible company right now.”

I set the takeout bag on the coffee table along with her milkshake and sit down beside her, leaving enough space so she doesn’t feel crowded. “You’re not.”

She peeks over at me, skeptical. “I just had a shift from hell.”

“I figured.”

She blows out a breath, and for a moment, she looks like she might say more, but instead, she shakes her head. “Thank you for this, seriously. You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

I bump my knee lightly against hers. “Yeah, I did.”

And I think—just for a second—she might actually believe me.

“You want to talk about it?”

At first, I expect her to shoot me down, but her blue eyes swing over to mine.

They’re stormy and filled with unspoken emotions.

I’m not great with emotions, I’ll be the first to admit, but seeing her suffering isn’t an option—I need to fix this—to see her smile and destroy me with her salty quips. I just want Lucy back.

“Car accident. With kids.” She swallows.

“Damn. I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Anything with kids is hard.”

I nod like I know what she’s talking about. A tough day at work for me is… still just a game. There’s no comparison.

I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze. She softens under my touch.

“How about a massage?” I ask. The words are out of my mouth before I can really consider them.

She blinks at me. “What?”

“Turn around,” I murmur. “Just trust me.” I nod toward her back, and after a beat, she hesitates—then sighs and does as I ask, scooting forward slightly.

I set my hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension knotted there, and start working my thumbs into the tight muscles at the base of her neck. She stiffens at first, probably not expecting it, but as I knead at the spots that feel the worst, she melts a little.

A soft, breathy noise slips from her lips, barely audible, but it nearly knocks the wind out of me.

She makes in intelligible sound. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

I chuckle, pressing a little deeper. “Locker room necessity. Hockey is hell on the back.”

“Remind me to thank your trainer,” she mutters, head tipping forward.

And I do my best to ignore the way my pulse picks up at the way she relaxes beneath my hands, at how good it feels to take care of her, even in this small way.

After a few minutes, Lucy looks at me over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she murmurs.

The moment is more intimate than either of us was expecting.

“Sure thing.” I let my hands fall away. “I better feed you while the food’s still warm.”

I dig through the bag and hand her a burger, taking one for myself as well.

Lucy pulls her legs up onto the couch, cradling the burger in both hands like it’s the only thing tethering her to reality right now. She takes a bite, closing her eyes for a second, then lets out a little groan of appreciation.

“Okay,” she says, mouth still half-full. “I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about you. This is amazing.”

I smirk, grabbing a fry from the bag. “Damn. I should’ve known the way to your heart was through takeout.”

“Food is love, Wilder.” She gestures toward her burger. “And right now, this burger is the best relationship I’ve ever been in.”

I chuckle, watching as some of the exhaustion eases from her features. There are still dark smudges under her eyes, but at least she’s eating. At least she’s here, letting me sit next to her instead of shutting me out.

“So,” I say, stealing a fry. “Want to talk about what happened today, or do you need a full mental cleanse?”

She sighs, chewing thoughtfully. “Mostly a cleanse. It was just… one of those shifts. Too much chaos, too many bad calls, and a little too much blood for my taste.”

I nod, deciding not to press. If she wants to tell me more, she will. Instead, I switch gears. “Okay, so mental reset. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to deal with on the job?”

That earns a tiny smile. She leans back, eyes sparking with something lighter. “Weirdest? Oh, there are a lot of contenders, but… one time, I responded to a call about a guy who got a beer bottle stuck in his—”

I hold up a hand. “Wait. Stuck in his—?”

She grins. “Yep. There .”

I groan, covering my face with one hand. “Nope. I’m out. I regret asking.”

“You asked, tough guy,” she teases, popping a fry into her mouth. “And now you have to live with that knowledge.”

I shake my head, laughing, and for a while, we just eat, trading stories, keeping it easy. I don’t need her to lay everything out for me tonight. She looks exhausted enough without me prying.

But she let me in. She let me sit beside her, eat greasy burgers, rub the tension from her shoulders. And somehow, that feels like enough.

“Thanks for this,” she says, setting her burger down on the wrapper and grabbing her milkshake.

She curls her legs on the cushion beside her.

Her feet are bare and her toenails are painted bright blue.

“I’m sure this isn’t at all what you had planned tonight.

” She gestures to my outfit—I’m still dressed in the button down and pair of pressed slacks.

“It’s not, but somehow this is almost better. More real.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I guess it is.”

I don’t know when things shifted. One minute, we were both focused on our burgers, and the next, the food is forgotten, the air between us shifting into something heavier.

Lucy leans back against the couch, her head tipping to the side as she watches me. Her eyes are still shadowed with exhaustion, but there’s something softer there now—something open. She licks a bit of ice cream from her bottom lip, and I swear to you, I forget how to function.

“Thanks for this,” she murmurs. “For coming over.”

“Anytime,” I say, and I mean it.

Her eyes drop to my mouth. Just for a second, but I catch it. And now I’m hyper-aware of everything—the way her knee is brushing against mine, the scent of her shampoo, the way her breath hitches slightly when I shift closer.

I lift a hand, brushing my knuckles along the side of her face, and she leans into the touch before she seems to catch herself.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispers.

I grin. “Probably.”

She exhales a laugh, quiet and breathy, and before she can overthink it, I close the space between us.

Our lips meet, slow and unhurried. She’s warm, soft, and a little hesitant at first—like she wasn’t expecting this, like she’s still deciding whether to give in. I let her set the pace, tilting my head, coaxing, letting her take what she wants.

And then she does.

Her fingers curl in the front of my shirt, pulling me closer. A quiet noise escapes her throat when I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, angling her just how I want. The kiss deepens, heat building between us, and—damn. I’m so screwed.

Hot arousal pulses through my veins. Holy hell, the girl can kiss.

When she finally pulls away, her lips are kiss-swollen, her eyes flickering with something I can’t quite read.

“That... was probably a mistake,” she says, but there’s no conviction in her voice.

I just smirk, pulling her in for another kiss. “Sure, Quinn. Whatever you say.”