Page 14

The guy’s head whipped around to look at me. He didn’t matter. He wanted to take advantage of Shane, and the white rage that filled me at the thought of it was worse than any I’d felt on the ice, even when I was fighting against the worst odds. “Aren’t you getting drinks?”

“It’s late,” I said. “We should probably get some sleep.” Why was he not getting the hint? The guy was a shallow flirt with only one thing on his mind.

Takes one to know one , I thought, and it wasn’t an unfair remark.

“Please?” I said.

Shane’s brow wrinkled for a split second, and he nodded. He looked at Ian. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Let’s stay in touch,” Ian said smoothly. “I’d love to get to know you better while you’re here.”

Oh, sure. You’d love to know him real good , I thought. He was obnoxious.

“Ah, we’re returning to Chicago on Sunday,” Shane said.

“Chicago? I’m there all the time for work. I’ll text you,” he said.

The nerve of this guy!

Shane smiled sweetly as he got up, and Ian took the cue. He followed us a few steps, then said goodbye to Shane and rejoined his redheaded friend at the bar.

We stepped outside, and I scoffed. “Can you believe that guy?”

Shane cocked his head and frowned. “Why? I thought he was sweet.”

“Sweet,” I said with contempt. “Shane, guys like that only want one thing.”

He pressed his lips together. “I, uh…wouldn’t mind getting it over with, to be honest. I don’t get guys swinging by that often, you know?”

“Not with someone like that. Trust me. He’s a player, and he’ll disappear by the time you’ve showered the sweat off,” I growled.

“Huh, I didn’t get that feeling at all,” Shane said. “Um, thanks.”

My fists balled so quickly and tightly that I had to stop walking for a moment.

It was like my muscles were locked. He wasn’t supposed to be thanking me, right?

I thought I was doing the right thing, but being thanked felt like I’d somehow cheated.

“You’ll find a good guy, Shane. And soon, I bet.

You’re way more interesting and attractive than you think. ”

Shane said nothing. We walked on silently, and I felt dirty. I felt so dirty that I craved a hot shower.

Most of my guys were downstairs in the lounge, sitting around, chatting, playing pool and table soccer, but I moved past them to the upper floor and my and Shane’s bedroom. I told Shane I would shower and didn’t wait for a reply.

The bathroom was amazing, and I turned on all of the showerheads at once as soon as I had stripped off my clothes.

Water poured from above and sprayed me from three sides, heating up the bathroom and filling it with a cloud of steam.

My head remained as foggy as it had been at the bar, my vision narrow and mind scattered.

It was only when I dried myself and put on my underwear and an old pair of shorts and stepped into the bedroom that all the fog cleared.

The moment made me think that simplicity was a literal, tangible thing, like an object you placed in your space that filtered out all your doubts and insecurities.

Shane sat in the bed, wearing a T-shirt, his legs covered by the thick duvet, a book open in his lap, and locks of messy hair falling over his glasses to obscure his vision.

He was bathed in the soft glow of the reading lamp on top of his nightstand, and I pressed my hand against the frame of the bathroom door as if to steady myself once the weight lifted off my chest. The lightness of standing here, of simply being , made my knees click.

All the diverging paths fell off. The spur of jealousy that had made me drag him away from someone who’d finally paid him a shred of attention, the relentless attempts to distance myself from him, the fear that I would take him, dismantle him, and never find a way to put him back together, it all dropped away.

Only one way forward remained, and it coiled itself around my waist, my chest, my throat, and my wrists.

It tugged me forward, but I resisted even now, so it tightened around me until it felt like it would suffocate me.

I didn’t know how much this changed things.

I didn’t know if I dared to do anything.

But there were some facts I couldn’t ignore.

No, I wasn’t straight. And yes, I wanted Shane.

Just knowing as much defined me, grounded me in reality rather than letting me float away into the endless, worrisome possibilities.

Shane lifted his gaze off the pages of his book, looking right into my eyes, and I knew I was seen.

Not in the way I’d been dying for all this time, to be seen at my best, my greatest, my handsomest, my strongest, and my most talented.

Not like that at all. He saw the core of me, the very soul which I often doubted existed.

His book lay in his lap, abandoned, and he folded his lips shortly before parting them a little.

I took a step toward the bed, but sleep was a long-forgotten dream. “Shane, I’m sorry,” I said.

His eyebrows lifted hopefully. His entire face lit up. “What for?”

I swallowed the clump of guilt choking me. “I shouldn’t have dragged you away. Ian could have been your first, and I ruined it. It was a stupid mistake.”

For the rest of the night, I wondered what I’d said to wipe away every hint of glimmering hope from his face. His eyes went out like a campfire’s last embers at the crack of dawn. His warmth was extinguished. “That’s okay. He was probably just interested in one thing.”

Shane picked up the book again, and I could see the walls rising around him. He was lost to me.