Page 9 of Make Me Yours

She belongs with me.

Tome.

The last time she had “big news” to share, I damn near had a heart attack.

I was convinced he’d proposed.

Instead, she’d gotten a promotion at work.

It was a relief.

But that fear hasn’t gone anywhere.

Knox McNichols claps me on the back with a gloved hand. “Cheer up, fucker. We won tonight.”

I grunt in response.

There isn’t much that comes before hockey.

Lilah’s the exception.

The second I step into the locker room, I yank off my gloves and toss them onto the bench as I reach for my cell. My pulse kicks up as my fingers tighten around the slim device and I unlock the home screen.

There’s not a single message or missed call from her.

With a frown, I check my inbox.

Still nothing.

“What the fuck?” I mutter before firing off a text.

Me:

Where are you?

I strip off my jersey, grab a towel, and check again.

Nada.

Me:

Everything okay?

No response.

My jaw clenches, and I force myself to breathe through the unease clawing at my ribs.

Me:

Lilah. Call me. You’re starting to scare me.

I swear to God, when I finally get my hands on that woman, I’ll spank her damn ass. I groan as an image of bending her over my lap and smacking the rounded curve of her bottom shoves its way into my brain. The last place I need to pop wood is in the locker room with a bunch of naked dudes.

I’d never hear the end of it.

Jaxon Wilder watches me with a slow-growing smirk.

“Damn,” he drawls, kicking back against his stall. “I didn’t realize you were so whipped.”