Page 27 of Offside and Off-Limits (Love in Maple Falls #2)

CADE

“Good work today, men,” Coach says as we catch our breath after another grueling practice.

“As you know, our first game is next week against the Great Lake Vikings, and we need to be ready. Simpson,” he says with the faintest hint of a grin.

“That lacrosse move you pulled was impressive as heck, but save the highlight reel stuff for when we’re up by five goals, got that? ”

Nate shrugs. “Come on, Coach, you’ve gotta admit that last slapshot was a thing of beauty.”

“It was reckless and selfish. That fancy stuff stays in your back pocket until we've got a comfortable lead. You pull moves like that when the game’s on the line, and you'll be watching the rest of it from the bench.”

“Come on, it was awesome,” he persists, and several of the team scoff.

Coach shoots him a look that could wither at fifty paces. “Pull your head in, son. And do it before next week’s game. Got it?”

“Yes, Coach,” he replies, although I know what he’s thinking because I’ve been there myself when I was young and had a lot to prove. You want to make your name, and you think you’re invincible.

But Nate doesn’t have the rookie excuse. He's got enough ice time under his belt to read the room.I guess some players just don’t get there’s no I in team , no matter how long they’ve been playing.

“Captain, any words?” Coach asks, and Jamie glides over to us.

“Good effort out there today, but we've got some things to clean up before our first game, as Coach says. Bama, that shot selection in the third drill was money. Keep trusting your instincts in tight spaces.”

“Will do,” Carson replies.

“Smith, your positioning on that two-on-one was textbook, but you hesitated on the clear. Don’t think so much, just move the puck.”

“You got it,” Weston replies.

“And Simpson? Coach is right. Pull your head in and be part of the team.”

Nate doesn’t reply. He just gives a half smile that tells me he has no intention of pulling his head in any time soon.

Jamie scans the group, making eye contact with each of us. “We're building something special here in Maple Falls, but it starts with showing up for each other every single day. That's how we earn not only our position in the League, but this town's respect.”

“You got it, Captain!” I say along with a bunch of the guys.

“Excuse me?” a woman says, and I turn, expecting to see Clara.

She’s expected here to film a few of us who volunteered to do another dance—me, of course, and Asher, the shoo-in, but also Clément and Carson this time.

But it isn’t Clara. It’s a young woman, looking nervous, clasping a phone in her hand, dwarfed by a puffer jacket that reaches below her knees.

“What can I do for you, miss?” Coach asks.

“I’m here to film the dance?” She poses it as a question although it’s clearly not one. “I’m Millie. Millie Nelson. I work in the marketing team.”

“Where’s Clara?” I ask, and there’s a murmur among the guys.

“Missing your girlfriend?” Nate jibes.

“Whatever,” I reply with a roll of my eyes.

“Clara’s sick today, so I’m here instead,” Millie says, looking like a nervous rookie who just got called up to face a charging defenseman.

I pull my brows together. Clara’s sick? That can’t be good. I hope it’s not a CFS flare.

“I’ve got a list of players who I’ll be filming, if you could please stay behind? Asher Tremblay, Carson Crane, Cade Lennox, and Clément Rivière,” she says, pronouncing Clément’s name as Clément Rivi-ear.

“You’ve got your instructions. The rest of you, hit the showers. And you need to really bring it at our next practice!” Coach says as the team begins to peel off.

Instead of hanging around, I tell Millie that I’m sorry I can’t film today, and I dash to the locker room to get showered and changed at lightning speed.

A short while later, I’ve got a bunch of fruit and some chicken soup, and I arrive at Clara’s house, and knock on the door.

“Who is it?” I hear Clara call out .

“It’s me, Cade.”

The door opens enough so I can see Clara in a pale T-shirt and pair of black leggings, her pretty blonde hair captured in a messy bun on top of her head, and a plaid blanket thrown around her shoulders.

The sight of her looking so vulnerable squeezes my heart, and I have the urge to collect her in my arms and carry her to her bed, then lay down beside her and hold her close, protecting her from whatever it is that’s made her unwell.

“Hey,” she says, rubbing her eyes.

“I heard you were sick, so I thought I’d bring you some supplies.”

Her features lift into a smile. “That’s so sweet of you. I’m not contagious, if you want to come in? But I warn you, the place is a mess.”

Wild horses could not stop me.

A moment later, we’re in her living room, a homey place with a wooden fireplace, comfy sofas, and evidence of kids all around, with pictures on the walls, a toy box under the window, and Benny’s hockey stick lying on a sofa.

Clara immediately starts to plump cushions, and as I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder it strikes me that I’m falling for a woman I’ve barely even touched, let alone kissed.

The old Cade would be looking at me like I was crazy right about now.

But the old me is gone. Buried. The new me is confident in his feelings for this woman here with me, and I know deep in my heart that she’s the one I want to be with.

“Stop. There’s no need to clean up on my account,” I say softly.

“But you’ve never been here before,” she protests.

“I’m not here for the décor, Triple. Sit. Put your feet up.”

She does as I instruct, and I sit beside her, pulling her feet to rest in my lap.

“What’s wrong? Is it a CFS flair?” I ask gently, my hand on her sock-clad feet .

“I think so. I woke up today feeling like my body was shot-full of lead. I didn’t want to have to call in sick, but I needed to take the day.”

“Dr. Bernice would be proud. You’re managing your energy levels.”

“And Owen would be relieved I’m not superhuman after all.”

“You’re pretty dang superhuman to me,” I say, and her lips lift into a small smile.

“I’m not sure there are all that many superheroes whose strength is being a mom to a couple of kids and trying to hold down a full-time job.”

“There should be. What brought this on? Have you been working too hard?”

“A little,” she replies, and she says it in such a way that makes me wonder if she’s holding something back.

“Is that all?”

She twists her mouth as she plays with her hands.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m just concerned, that’s all.”

“No, I want to. I just needed some time to process it.”

“Is me heating up some chicken soup for you long enough?” I ask, only half joking.

“I think that should do it. But I can manage to heat some soup up. Thanks for bringing it.” She goes to move.

“Stay. Just tell me where the kitchen is and I’ll get this bad boy heated.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

A few minutes later, I have heated up the soup, found a tray, a spoon, and a napkin, and placed it on the coffee table in front of Clara.

“You’re such a thoughtful person,” she says as I resume my position at her side.

“Give the people what they want, that’s what I always say.”

She smiles, her eyes brighter than they were only a few moments ago. “I think I’m just tired out, that’s all. I don’t have that crushing fatigue I’ve suffered with in the past.”

I settle back onto the sofa, lifting her feet onto my lap once more. “That’s good to hear. Tired out we can deal with, right?”

“I also know what brought this on. My ex turned up yesterday.”

“Was it his turn for the kids?”

“No. He wanted to talk with me.” She pulls her lips into a line. “He told me he wants me back.”

My whole body stills. “He wants you back?” I repeat as my throat tightens, thoughts pinging around my brain like balls in a pinball machine.

He’s the kids’ dad.

Clara was in love with him before.

She leans forward and places her hand on my arm. “Cade, I told him I was done.”

Relief floods my veins and my face breaks into a grin. “You had me worried there for a sec, Triple.”

She shakes her head. “Trust me, there’s nothing to worry about. I am well and truly over him, and what’s more, he showed his true colors yesterday.”

I narrow my eyes, my body tensing. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Because if he did?—”

“No. Nothing like that. It turns out, he’d been manipulating me, pretending to be someone else online, someone with whom I had become close.”

A sharp tension coils within me. She’s close to someone online? A man? A man who was in fact her ex?

I’m not quite sure how to feel right now.

“But it was a lie. He’d tried to catfish me to prove that we were meant to be together.”

My jaw clenches as my blood heats in my veins. “He did what ?” I grind out through clenched teeth.

“He pretended to be a man with CFS, someone who needed me to support him on his journey.” She looks down at her hands.

“ At one point, I thought I had feelings for Warrior—that was the name he used. But that was before…? Well, that was before I met you.” As she lifts her gaze to mine once more, I see the sincerity in her big blue eyes, and all the tension, the anger I felt only seconds ago, drains right out of me.

Her features lift into the most beautiful smile, and I know that my time has finally come.

I’m going to tell her how much she means to me.

“Clara,” I begin, my voice hoarse. I shift closer to her, her knees now in my lap. Resting a hand on them, I look into her eyes and say, “I’m totally out of my depth with you."

She swallows hard, and I can see something shift in her expression as she gazes back at me. “You are?” she asks, and there's a note of such vulnerability in her voice that it nearly undoes me completely.

Here I am, a guy who's made a career out of reading plays before they develop, of never getting in deep with anyone, and I can't even figure out how to tell this woman that she’s completely changed my way of thinking, my way of life.

That it’s her I want, and her alone.

“The old me wasn't looking for anything real. I was young and living the carefree, single life. You heard the stories. But I grew tired of it, of never having anything real with anyone. When the opportunity to come to Maple Falls presented itself, I jumped at it as a chance to start afresh, to reinvent myself,” I tell her.

The words are coming easier now, like I've finally found the right play to call.

“Now? I'm older. Wiser. Hopefully.” I can't help but smile at that last part, because let's be honest, wisdom is still a work in progress where I’m concerned. “I hoped over time I might meet someone, someone to laugh with, to connect with, to get deep with.” I take a breath before I say what I’ve wanted to say for some time, ever since I first began to feel it. “Clara. Triple. I've found that in you. As short as it’s been since we met, I’m falling in love with you. Am in love with you. ”

There it is. The words I've been carrying around like a puck I couldn't quite get a clean shot on. Out there in the open.

My heart is hammering, my insides doing a triple axel worthy of Olympic gold

Does she feel it too?

Sure, I know she’s attracted to me. But this goes way beyond that. This is soul deep, like the rocks buried deep within the earth, and finally giving voice to how I feel has me both elated and vulnerable in a way I’ve never experienced before.

Her eyes widen, and for a heartbreaking split second I wonder if I've just made the biggest mistake of my life.

But then she speaks, and her voice is soft and breathless and everything I didn't know I needed to hear. “I'm in love with you, too, Cade.”

And that's it. Game over .

This is Clara finally letting me in, letting her walls down for me, and it’s a thing of beauty.

I reach up and push a stray hair from her cheek, the brush of my fingertips against her soft skin sending electricity coursing down my spine. “You are?”

“Cade,” she murmurs, and the emotion she puts into saying my name spurs me on to cup her chin in my hands, marveling at how small and perfect she feels, her skin soft.

I lean over to her, and when I brush my lips against hers, it's the most tender, heartfelt kiss of my life, full of love and longing for this incredible woman.

She shifts her body closer to me, her hands sliding up my neck and tangling in my hair, and we deepen our kiss as every look, every smile, every second we’ve shared since the day we met melds together to form this very moment, both of us laid bare, showing what we mean to one another.

Her lips are soft, her taste incredible, and I never want this moment to end. Just her and me, locked together in the strength of our shared love for one another .

When finally I pull away, she's looking at me like I've just scored the game-winning goal in overtime. “That was nice.”

“Nice?” I repeat with a chuckle. “I think it was more than nice.” I brush my lips against hers once more to prove my point, and feel her tremble in my arms. “Do you know I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” I murmur into her hair.

“You mean when you called me ‘ma’am?’” she teases, and there's that wit I've fallen for, sharp and perfectly timed, even when she's looking at me like she wants to pull me back down for another kiss.

“Would you forgive me if I kissed you again?” I ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear the words from her lips.

“Only if you kiss me like you really, really mean it,” she replies and my laugh rumbles up from somewhere deep in my chest as I scoop her up onto my lap, pulling her small frame against me and tangling my fingers in her hair.

She closes her eyes and lets out a little whimper. It spurs me on to claim her mouth with mine once more, this time with less tentativeness. This time with less reserve. I kiss her hard and long, and every coherent thought I've ever had flies right out the window.

Because this perfect kiss with Clara Johnson is the only play that matters anymore.