Page 29

CAM

I was glad to put Trev’s mind at ease. He deserved to know how much his kids loved him and how little Bryan and Tim were succeeding at undermining him (because if that wasn’t what they were doing, I was the fucking Pope).

But there was something about the interaction that left me a little… uncomfortable.

Not the conversation itself. That had been fine.

The issue was when he’d been walking out to join me. My phone screen had picked up his reflection, and I’d taken that moment to shamelessly ogle him…

Which had given me the opportunity to realize he was looking at me strangely. And to notice how he quickly looked away before he sat down to talk with me.

It wasn’t the first time that had happened since I’d moved in, and it was… weird.

It was especially weird when I thought about how sometimes he’d see me before or after a game, and he’d pause like he was…

I don’t know, surprised to see me? He knew I’d be there, though.

Or like something about seeing me threw him off-balance?

I couldn’t figure it out, and though I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, I wasn’t sure I liked it.

I was probably reading way too much into it because I was used to Daniel.

I’d spent a lot of time seriously on edge around him because a sidelong glance could mean he was getting ready to tell me I’d pissed him off somehow.

Or avoiding looking at me usually meant there was a fight brewing.

About what, I wouldn’t have a clue until he finally blew up at me.

I’d just have to walk on eggshells and worry myself sick until he finally told me if I’d loaded the dishwasher wrong, hadn’t been putting out enough, or had committed some cardinal sin I didn’t even know would bother him.

That was probably it. I had no idea why Trev looked at me the way he did, or why he sometimes seemed startled to see me even though he knew I was there. I couldn’t explain it.

But my twitchiness about it probably had a lot more to do with Daniel than with Trev. Which meant it wasn’t fair to get annoyed with Trev or be suspicious.

Brushing off those thoughts as best I could, I threw on a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt, and came back downstairs to join him in the kitchen.

He was topping off a travel mug with coffee, and when he met my gaze with a smile, there was a hint of telltale redness in his eyes.

That honestly didn’t surprise me since we’d been getting into some tough emotional territory earlier.

A few times, he’d looked like he was ready to lose it right then and there; that he’d made it into the house was probably a small miracle.

That was why I’d tossed in a joke to give him a chance to collect himself—I knew him well enough to pick up that he’d been fighting hard to keep his emotions from spilling over.

I didn’t acknowledge any of that out loud. He’d be embarrassed if he knew I’d caught on that he’d probably been crying earlier.

I hated that, but he was probably still raw, and any assurances that “dude, guys can cry—we all do” wouldn’t help much.

So, I just pretended not to notice.

“You heading out?” I asked.

Nodding, he screwed the lid onto his mug. “Yeah, in a minute. And I’ll be back in time for dinner if you want to eat together. We’re reviewing film after practice, though, so I’ll be at the training facility for a while.”

“Cool. We’ll figure something out. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Me neither.” He sipped his coffee. “There’s like five games on tonight if you want to watch one.”

“Hell yeah. Who’s playing?”

“Um…” Trev took out his phone and frowned as he scrolled something on the screen. “Let’s see… Houston at San Jose, New York at Seattle, Vancouver at Montreal, Detroit at—ooh, Detroit’s playing Atlanta. That’s guaranteed to be a fun game.”

“Oh yeah? They rivals or something?”

“They’ve knocked each other out of the playoffs every year for the past five years. Detroit’s beaten them three times. Atlanta’s swept them twice.” He grimaced. “Things get heated when they meet up.”

I whistled. “I bet. Sounds like fun!”

“Perfect.” He put his phone in the island beside his coffee. “Maybe we can indulge in a pizza or something while we watch.”

“Ooh, sign me up.” I chuckled and gestured over my shoulder toward the basement stairs. “I’ll just put in an extra half hour in the gym so I don’t feel guilty about it.”

Something flickered across his face, but before I could parse it, he cleared his throat and said, “I don’t think you really need to feel guilty, do you?”

“No. And I encourage my clients not to because…” I waved a hand.

“Toxic relationships with food and exercise and all that.” With a quiet laugh, I added, “But I also know how quickly and easily I’ll slide into eating less-than-healthy and being lazy at the gym, so…

” I half-shrugged. “I just try to stay on top of it.”

“Fair enough. I have to do that during the off season.”

“You? Really?” It took all I had not to rake my eyes up and down his gorgeous body. Even in a hoodie and track pants, he was still lean and smoking hot.

He laughed softly. “We burn like two thousand calories per game, and that doesn’t include practice and off-ice workouts.

So it’s really, really easy to get into the habit of ‘eh, I can eat whatever the fuck I want because I’ll be burning it off later.

’ I try to eat the way I’m supposed to, but not gonna lie: by the end of the season—especially the end of the playoffs—I’m definitely slacking. ”

“With all the traveling you do? I’m not surprised.”

“Oh, it’s not just traveling.” He sipped his coffee again. “I just get lazy.” He flashed me a grin that had no business making my spine tingle. “With a personal trainer living with me, maybe I’ll stay on top of things.”

“As we both order pizza tonight.”

“Eh.” He shrugged.

I chuckled. We’d be fine. I really did encourage my clients to cultivate healthy relationships with food and exercise, and it didn’t do anyone any good to obsess over it.

Treating food as a reward and exercise as a punishment was a recipe for disaster.

But I was pretty sure we could find some balance between eating and working out during his off season.

I leaned against the island. “So, you said you’re doing film review today? What do you guys even do for that? Just watch your old games or something?”

“We do that, but mostly, we’re watching the team we’ll be playing next. Which, in this case, is Salt Lake City.” He grimaced. “They’ve got one of the best power plays in the League, and there’s already rumors that their goalie will get the netminder MVP award.”

“Whoa. So… tough team to play against.”

“Very.” Then he snickered. “One of my teammates—Hoes? He does voices while we’re watching them sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

Grinning, Trev nodded. “Drives our video coach nuts, but it’s kind of hard for him to tell Hoes to knock it off when even he’s laughing so hard he can’t speak.”

“So, even at this level, you’re all still just a bunch of kids who goof off in class.”

He quirked his lips, then shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“No wonder you love it so much.”

“Guilty.”

We both laughed. After a moment, though, he sobered, and he met my gaze. “By the way—thanks. For what you said…” He tilted his head to indicate the deck outside. “I’ve been having a really tough time. About everything with the kids. So… I needed to hear that.”

I smiled. “Any time. I think anyone would be a mess right now. Playing tug-of-war with your ex over your kids…” I wrinkled my nose. “That’s going to fuck with anyone’s head, you know?”

Letting his shoulders drop, he sighed. “Yeah. Because no matter what we do, they’re stuck in the middle. I’m just glad they don’t resent me as much as they probably should.”

“Trev.” I shook my head. “They don’t, and they shouldn’t. Yeah, they might have some complicated feelings about the divorce, especially as they get older, but I think they can see as well as anyone that you’re doing the best you can.”

“God, I hope so,” he whispered.

I couldn’t handle seeing him that upset, so I stepped closer and hugged him. As I pulled him in tight, I said, “Trust me. They love you. And no parent is perfect, you know?” I stroked his hair. “You’re doing fine.”

Trev sighed heavily and held me against him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” After a long moment, I loosened my embrace, and we pulled apart.

And whatever I was going to say next—because I’d had something on the tip if my tongue—fell away when I met those familiar, stunning brown eyes.

Holy shit, you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

When I recovered from my two-second mental record-scratch, I realized…

He’d locked eyes with me too. And he’d tensed as if he’d been startled. Or his own train of thought had derailed.

My heart was beating hard, and with my chest still touching his, I had to wonder if he could feel it. Or if his was doing the same.

Was he…

Were we…

His eyes flicked to my mouth, that subtle gesture flooding my brain with memories of our past life, and holy shit, I wanted one of us to work up the courage to lean in and?—

An alarm on his phone screamed to life.

We jumped apart, both gasping. He snatched the phone off the kitchen island and swore under his breath as he silenced it.

“Damn it,” he whispered. Then he met my gaze with apologetic eyes. “I, uh… I have to go.”

“Right. Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Don’t be late for practice.”

“I won’t.” He laughed, and was I imagining how nervous he sounded? “Uh… dinner and watching a game when I get back?”

“Sure. Yeah. Sounds great.”

He flashed me a quick smile. Then he left the kitchen.

I let out a breath, both frustrated and relieved that the moment had passed. Just as my heartrate was starting to tick down, though, I noticed Trev’s travel mug on the island.

“Shit!” I grabbed it and jogged toward the door.