Page 36

Penn

T he bed feels too empty.

Which is ridiculous considering I fell asleep with Mila tucked against me, her body soft and warm in my arms like it belonged there. Like she’s belonged here all along.

But now? Cold sheets. Quiet house.

Something’s not right.

I push up, scrub a hand over my face, and glance at the clock. Early—barely five thirty. We’ve got wheels up for Chicago in a few hours, and I was hoping for one last morning with her curled against me before I had to go be a hockey player instead of… whatever the hell I am now.

A man wrecked over a woman, apparently.

I get up, pull on a pair of sweats, and start moving through the house.

It doesn’t take long before I see the faint glow of a bathroom light spilling under the door of the guest bathroom.

The softest sound comes next—water running, then the unmistakable scrape of someone shifting against the tile floor.

My gut twists as I knock lightly. “Mila?”

Her response is faint. “In here.”

I push the door open and find her lying on the floor by the toilet, knees drawn up, a towel bundled under her head. She looks pale. Clammy. And so damn small.

“What the hell?” I crouch beside her, my hand instinctively going to her forehead. Cool. No fever. But her skin has that too-pale look I don’t like one bit.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she whispers, wincing. “I’ve been sick all night.”

Guilt hits me hard. “Jesus, Mila. You should’ve gotten me up.”

She manages a weak smile. “You’ve got a game and needed sleep. I didn’t want to wake you with my vomiting, so I came in here instead of your bathroom.”

That’s incredibly sweet and stupid at the same time, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I slide an arm under her knees and another behind her back. She doesn’t protest when I lift her off the floor, which tells me all I need to know about how shitty she feels.

I carry her straight back to our bed while her arms wrap around my neck and her head rests on my shoulder.

“You’re not going to Chicago like this,” I say firmly, lying her down and pulling the comforter over her.

“I’ll be fine,” she murmurs, trying for a smile but not really pulling it off. “I think it might be food poisoning or something.”

“Bad shrimp,” I mutter, because that’s what she had for dinner. Fucking scampi. I shake my head, already running through options. I glance at my watch. “You need to see a doctor. Maybe we can get you in and out of an urgent care—”

She reaches for my wrist, her fingers cool against my skin. “I don’t need a doctor. I need sleep. Maybe some ginger ale and crackers.”

I hesitate. Every instinct is screaming at me that something else needs to be done. I’ve never had to care for someone like this and I’m frustrated that I’ve got to leave for Chicago soon. Could I miss the game?

No, that’s fucking stupid too. The team is counting on me.

But so is Mila.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit gruffly.

Her brow furrows. “Do what?”

“This.” I gesture helplessly between us. “Be a good boyfriend. Take care of someone. Worry like this.”

Something cracks in her expression—soft and sweet all at once. “You’re doing just fine, Penn. But honestly, I don’t need you hovering. I don’t need a doctor. Just some rest and to let my stomach settle.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, my hand on her hip. I study her face and those beautiful eyes that I’ll never get tired of looking at. “Stay with me,” I say impulsively.

Mila frowns in confusion. “But… I am staying with you.”

I shake my head. “I mean permanently. Stay here in Pittsburgh. Don’t go back to Florida when this is all over.”

Her eyes widen and I’m relieved to see pure joy over my offer. “Move here permanently, huh?”

“Forever,” I say, heart pounding harder than it does on the ice. This is fucking huge, but I mean it to the depths of my soul.

The tiniest sheen of tears glistens in her eyes. “Penn…” Her voice breaks a little. “That’s all I want. To stay with you when this is all done.”

I’ve never felt such relief before, as if all my problems have just been solved and all the puzzle pieces are complete. I lean down, press my forehead to hers. “Once we handle this shit with Jace, I’m going to give you the best damn life.”

Her throat works around a swallow. “I already have it.”

I exhale, brushing a hand through her hair. “Best fucking thing that ever happened to me was you walking into my life and wrecking it.”

She laughs—a watery, beautiful sound. “Me too.”

I kiss her temple, then push off the bed. “Okay… ginger ale, crackers, garbage can by the bed. You’re clearly not able to go to the game, so I’m gonna call Jameson, let them know agents need to stay here with you while I’m gone.”

“Sounds good,” she says, curling deeper into the blanket like she’s exhausted.

“I’ll be right back.”

The first order of business is calling Malik. He answers on the first ring and I let him know Mila’s sick. “I’ll get another group of agents over there.”

“No,” I say brusquely, rifling through the pantry for crackers. “Just have the ones who were going to Chicago stay here with her. I don’t need the protection.”

“Are you sure?” Malik asks.

“Yeah. I’ll be surrounded by the team and besides, Jace is focused on Mila right now. I’m not in any danger.”

He doesn’t argue with me. “I’m on it,” he says and disconnects.

I move through the kitchen, grabbing everything Mila asked for, bringing it back like I’m some damn rookie nurse. But I’d do it a thousand times over for her.

When I set the tray on the bedside table, Mila reaches for my hand. “Thank you.”

I smile and squeeze her fingers. “You need to text Willa,” I tell her. She’s a doctor, after all. “Let her know what’s going on. If you get worse, she’s the one you call. I’ll be on a plane, but she can get to you faster than anyone.”

“I will,” she promises.

Reluctantly, I glance at the time. “I’ve got to hop in the shower and get packed. Malik is sending agents over and they’ll be here soon.”

“Okay,” she says weakly, and I can’t help but touch her cheek one more time. Cool and fortunately dry. Yeah… probably just food poisoning.

I bend over, press my lips to her forehead. I gotta go but this doesn’t seem right. Leaving her in this state feels like leaving a piece of me behind.

“I’ll text when I land,” I say. “And I’ll be back tonight.”

She smiles, soft and sleepy. “Go win a game.”

I bend down again and gently kiss the top of her head. “Stay in bed. Rest. And when I get back, we’re gonna start building that forever.”

I don’t wait for an answer. I already know what I’m playing for.