Page 60 of Make Me Yours

How could I forget about the hit he took last night?

He’s throwing me off so much, I’m not thinking straight.

And that’s never happened to me before.

I search his face. “How are you feeling?”

He takes a moment before answering. “I’ve got a slight headache and some soreness. Nothing a little time won’t fix.”

“Good. I’m glad.” I pause, then admit, “You really scared me.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

I nod. “I know. Guess it’s an occupational hazard.”

He smirks.

When the eggs are done, we move around each other with quiet familiarity, piling plates and refilling coffee. It’s almost easy to forget that I woke up in his bed, practically naked, our bodies tangled up in the sheets. Or how scared I am that our relationship might be changing.

But then he offers me a mug, and our fingers brush. That’s all it takes for everything to slam back into me. It would be impossible not to notice the way Steele looks at me now is different. Like he sees more than his friend standing before him.

I take a sip of coffee, trying to hide the fact that I’m unraveling all over again.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asks.

I nod, even though the answer is more complicated than that. “Yeah. Just tired.”

His eyes remain on me for a beat longer than necessary. “Really? I slept the best I have in years.”

The truth is that I did too.

Pressed next to Steele’s strong body?

How could I not?

Although, there’s no way I’m about to admit that.

Instead of responding, I lower myself onto the stool beside him and push a bite of eggs around my plate. The silence between us stretches, strangely comfortable, until his phone buzzes on the counter.

He picks it up, brows pulling together as he scans the screen. “It’s Coach. He wants me to swing by the arena and check in with the team doc this morning.”

I glance up, concern flickering through me. “Should I drive you?”

His gaze lifts to mine and lingers before he smiles. “Nah. Stay here. I’ll grab a ride.”

The words are simple. Easy. But the way he says them is like he’s not just thinking about himself. He’s thinking about me.As if he somehow understands that I might need the quiet more than he needs the company.

A part of me wants to go with and make sure he’s okay. To be near him in a way that doesn’t feel purely platonic anymore.

But another part, the one still rattled from everything that’s shifted between us, knows a little space might be exactly what I need to figure out what the hell is happening before it all spirals out of control.

“Okay.”

After a few more bites of breakfast, he stands and carries his plate to the sink. “I’m gonna shower and head out.”

I nod. “Sounds good.”

He pauses at the threshold of the kitchen as a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Unless you’d like to offer your assistance again?”