Page 16

SIXTEEN

The Edmonton crowd roars as soon as the puck lands on my tape. My heart pounds and adrenaline surges through me as I deke around the defenseman. With a quick flick of my wrist, I send the puck flying over the goalie’s blocker side, right where I want it. He slides across the ice, but it’s too late. The puck slams into the back of the net, and the goal light flashes.

I throw my arm up in victory as my teammates rush in, huddling around me in celebration.

“Let’s go, boys!” Fox shouts before we break apart.

In moments like this, everything else fades away. It’s just me and the game I love. A welcome reprieve from these past few days, where every thought has revolved around Hannah and how badly I want to get home. Two away games have never felt so long.

Thankfully, this is our last game, and we’ll be heading back to Chicago tonight. We’ve got one win under our belt, and it looks like we’ll be adding another tonight. My goal puts us ahead by two, and with only eight minutes left on the clock, Edmonton is running out of time to catch up. Minutes later, Fox scores, putting another point on the board for the Saints and all but securing our second win of the road trip.

Most wouldn’t be impressed by a two-win streak, but with how this season is going, it’s practically record-breaking. Our chances of making the playoffs are slim to none. Sure, anything can happen, but turning this season around? I don’t see it.

We’ve only made it to the playoffs once and were eliminated in the first round. Normally, missing the playoffs would sting more, but having the offseason come a little earlier this year doesn’t sound so bad. You didn’t hear that, hockey gods.

Wanting the summer break to arrive sooner might have something to do with my new roommate .

We rush through post-game showers and media, eager to get home. My teammates grumble about the travel schedule, most of them missing their families. Road games have never bothered me, but now, for the first time, they do. Just the thought of seeing Hannah has my leg bouncing restlessly as the plane takes off.

The almost four-hour flight passes, though it feels endless. By the time I’m driving home, the dash reads three a.m. The closer I get, the more my nerves kick in. It’s too early for her to be awake, but I still can’t wait to see her in my space. In our space. Fuck, our sounds good.

Am I going to become a “we” person?

Slow your roll, remember the rule: take baby steps.

“Can you stop shaking the whole damn car with your restless legs, dude?” Fox’s voice reminds me of his presence. I’ve had a one-track mind since stepping off the plane, but now that he’s calling me out, I try to chill out.

“You in a hurry because of your girl? I’ve never seen you this eager to get back,” he adds.

“Yeah, I am. You gonna give me shit?” I raise a brow, glancing over at him.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender.

Twenty minutes later, I park in the garage, grab my bag, and practically shove Fox out of the car. I give him a quick wave as he heads across the yard to his place, while I hurry into mine.

Inside, everything is just as I left it, except for her boots by the back door. The sight brings a stupid smile to my face, but it fades as the silence confirms that Hannah is asleep. I head to the kitchen for a glass of water, but the faint glow from the TV, muted on ESPN, catches my attention. That’s when I see her—curled up on the oversized couch. She must’ve fallen asleep watching my game, and the thought tightens something in my chest.

I crouch beside her. Her hands are tucked under her cheek, lips slightly parted as she breathes deeply. Her blonde hair is a mess, with soft waves falling across her face. Careful not to wake her, I gently brush the strands from her eyes, my fingers threading through the tangles. I can’t bring myself to pull away. She’s so fucking beautiful.

Her thick, dark lashes flutter against her freckle-splattered cheeks, still kissed with color from our time in Florida. My eyes lock onto the tiny freckle just above her cupid’s bow. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about kissing that exact spot. And now, my mind drifts back to our one and only kiss—a kiss I promised to forget, yet it’s still front and center in my mind. I’ve also lost count of the number of times I’ve replayed that kiss as I’ve wrapped my hand around my cock. The familiar sensation of desire courses through my veins. Fuck, now I’m hard.

I must linger too long because when I meet her eyes again, they’re open, peering up at me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What time is it?” Her voice is raspy from sleep.

“A little after three. Go back to sleep.”

She grumbles something I don’t catch and flips onto her other side, giving me a perfect view of her ass. Tight black leggings hug her curves, and her oversized tee has ridden up just enough to reveal the smooth skin of her lower back. Not helping the tightness in my pants. I bite my lip to suppress a groan. It takes all my self-control not to slide in behind her.

“You want me to help you get up to bed?” There’s gravel in my voice that I can’t blame on sleep.

She shakes her head, but I stay put. When it’s clear she’s not planning to move from the couch, and I can’t keep hovering like a creep, I stand, ready to head to bed. Just as I’m about to walk away, she twists, reaching out to grab my hand.

“Cuddle with me,” she says, still sounding half asleep. I freeze, feeling the gentle tug on my arm, silently urging me to lie down. Even knowing my body will regret a night on the couch, I go willingly, powerless to deny her anything she asks for.

I settle in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and breathing in her coconut and vanilla scent. I keep a little space between us, because if our lower bodies touch, there’s no way I’ll be able to control my semi from going fully hard. Just having her in my arms is more than I ever expected today, and I’m going to savor it. Her steady breathing, in and out, soothes me, and before long, mine falls into sync as I drift off to sleep.

As the sun filters through the windows, I slowly blink my eyes open, confused by the warm body nestled next to mine. As consciousness returns, I remember how I ended up here, holding her.

Sleep me didn’t get the memo about keeping distance. I’m still behind her, but the gap between us is non-existent. My body is flush against hers—from the top of her head tucked under my chin to her toes nestled between my calves. I’m sporting morning wood that there’s no hiding. Luckily, she’s still sleeping, so she’s none the wiser.

I tell myself not to, to pull back, but my hips move forward of their own accord, trying to relieve the ache. I stifle the groan threatening to escape as my dick presses tight against her ass.

Because every inch of my body is connected to hers, I feel the exact moment she goes unnaturally stiff, signaling she’s awake… and probably feels my erection pressed against her back. Remembering the last time she felt it and her subsequent freak-out, I jerk back. A bit too aggressively, rolling off the couch and landing flat on my back with an “Umph.” Thankfully, I’ve taken the pillow I was using down with me and quickly use it to cover my still hard dick.

Hannah’s head peeks over the side of the couch, her hair cascading down around her face. “What’re you doing down there?” Her voice is thick with sleep, confusion… and is that amusement?

“All part of my morning routine,” I deadpan. “How do you think I maintain my elite athleticism?”

She lets out a huff of breath, but her lips tip up into a smile. “I would’ve thought hitting the floor that hard would be bad for your back… but what do I know.”

She rolls back onto the couch, and I chuckle as I push myself to my feet.

With a raised brow, she eyes the pillow I realize I’m still clutching to my crotch before meeting my eye in question.

I toss the pillow aside and turn, heading for the stairs. “Going to take a shower,” I call over my shoulder. Her laugh echoes behind me as I quicken my pace up the stairs.

Crisis averted. Sort of.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” I place a mug of tea on the coffee table in front of the couch an hour later.

“Someone’s peppy,” Hannah says, bringing the cup to her lips and blowing at the rising steam.

Yes, that’s what a mind-blowing orgasm, fueled by fantasies of you, does to me. Okay, maybe I did more than just wash up in the shower.

“Are we pretending the pillow incident didn’t happen?” she asks. Her lips tip up around the ceramic mug.

“Yep,” I blurt out, quickly changing the subject. “I was thinking we could do something together today. No practice, so I’m free all day. Want to go out and explore the city?”

She hums in thought, taking another sip of tea. “Remember my ‘Sloth Sundays’?”

How could I forget? Those were some of my favorite days with her back in college. We’d sleep in as late as possible, then spend the rest of the day lounging around. Bingeing movies, tearing through an embarrassing amount of snacks, and laughing until our sides hurt.

It was completely out of character for me, but it was exactly what I needed. A break from the constant grind, from the endless worry that came with chasing my dreams. Back then, I was so consumed by the need to succeed that I neglected anything that didn’t push me closer to my goals—until Hannah came along. She had a way of silencing my restless mind. She still does.

The thought of having her all to myself today, just enjoying each other’s company, feels like exactly what we need. A chance to reset after the awkwardness that’s crept into our normally playful friendship since the kiss.

“What if we have one of those? We have a couple of episodes of You’re The One to catch up on, and I’m sure you’re exhausted with all the travel,” she adds.

“That sounds perfect.” I bring her feet into my lap as I sit next to her on the couch.

“Umm, I wanted to ask you something,” she says, placing her cup of tea on the table and fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

“Anything.”

“Do you mind if Natalie stays here while she’s in town? She’s coming for a work conference thing. We have more than enough bedrooms, or I don’t know… would she stay in your room?”

What the fuck? The only woman I want in my room is sitting right beside me. I try to meet her gaze, but she’s focused on her lap, twirling the ring around her finger. “Of course she can stay. This is as much your place as it is mine. I want you to feel at home here. But why the hell would she stay in my room?” I fail to hide the shock in my voice.

“You know.” She bites her nails.

I take her hands in mine and rest them on my lap. The gesture works, drawing her attention back to me. “No, I really don’t. Can you please explain why because I’m lost?”

She rolls her eyes before responding. “I’m not trying to make this weird, Ryan. I know you guys have a history.”

Okay, now I have no idea what she’s talking about. “What kind of history do you think we have, exactly? We’re friends, but honestly, that’s even pushing it. A friend of a friend? The only reason we’re even friendly is because you’re close with her, and I want your friends to like me. Can you please explain what you’re thinking? Because I’m genuinely confused. I think lines have been crossed somewhere.” I don’t give her a chance to respond as I piece together the implication. “Wait, has Natalie implied something happened between us? If so, I need to call her. What is she thinking? I have no idea why she would say something like that.” I dig around in my pockets for my phone.

Hannah scoots closer and places a hand on my forearm, stopping my movements. “Wait.”

She looks like she’s dreading whatever she’s about to say, her eyes darting back to her hands. “I… When…” I’m not sure she’s going to get it out, but then she lets the words out in a rush, “I heard you. That first night I introduced you guys, and you left together. I heard you with her that night through the walls. Those walls were really thin. I didn’t care. I still don’t care. I just…”

She thinks we slept together? Back in college? More surprising is she’s thought this for years and never thought to ask me, or for that matter, Natalie. What the hell? I brush my thumb across her lips to stop her rambling, then frame her face, tilting her head to meet my eyes.

“I don’t know who you heard that night, but it wasn’t me.”

I remember the night she’s talking about. It was the first one we spent together after she and Knolls got together. The four of us met at a bar near campus. A pit forms in my stomach—just like it did when I saw Hannah with him .

“The night you’re talking about, I dropped her off at your dorm and went home. Nothing ever happened between her and me. Not back then, and not in the years since. How could it? When all I’ve ever wanted—” I cut myself off and shake my head, realizing I almost let the words I’ve kept locked up slip out. Pretty sure that’d break one—or two—of my rules.

Her eyebrows knit together, then smooth out as if she’s pieced together what I meant. I hope she hasn’t. “Because of hockey?” she asks hesitantly.

When I just stare at her, wide-eyed, she clarifies, “You’ve always been focused on your career.” She says it in a way that makes me think she’s waiting for me to refute her… but that can’t be right.

I can only nod, afraid that if I say anything, it’ll either be a lie or a confession of my feelings—and I know she’s not ready for that. “The bottom line is, there’s nothing between Natalie and me.”

She drops her gaze and nods.

Wanting to wipe the look of uncertainty from her face, I pull her into my lap in a tight hug, burying my face in her neck. “Why did you never ask me? Or her?”

She hesitates, and her body tenses slightly in my arms before she speaks. “I guess I just didn’t really want to know. We were friends, and I was with Jace. I mean, it doesn’t matter either way.”

“I like how you said ‘were friends.’ Ya know that’s past tense, right?” I tease.

She laughs and pushes at my shoulder. “I meant we were and are, jerk.”

“Mm-hmm.” I pull her back to me, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. Her body shudders against mine at the brief contact, and it takes everything in me not to follow my instincts. Trying to redeem myself from my earlier near slipup and stick to my not making the first move rule, I put some distance between us.

“Can you promise me something?” I ask, my voice low. “Next time, if something’s bothering you… just talk to me. Even if you think it’s stupid or it shouldn’t matter. Just tell me, okay?”

“I never said it bothered me.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her stubbornness. “Okay, the next time something’s not bothering you, tell me. All right?”

“Fine. I’m gonna take a shower. Then I’ll make us food and we can start slothin’,” she says with a waggle of her brows. All too soon, she’s climbing off my lap.

She comes back an hour later, hair still wet, carrying two plates piled with eggs, toast, and breakfast sausage. I fire up the show, and once we finish eating, we settle in, getting more comfortable on the oversized couch.

Her head rests on my lap, and I’m grateful for the throw pillow between us, hiding my body’s reaction to her proximity. My hand instinctively moves to her hip, my fingers trailing up and down her side before I catch myself and shift my hand to her shoulder instead. Get it together, man.

We’re only halfway through the first episode of You’re The One when I hear the front door open and close. I throw my head back with a sigh at the interruption, knowing there’s only one person who would barge into my house without knocking.

Hannah shifts, looking toward the sound, then back at me. “Who is that?”

I don’t have a chance to answer before Fox enters the room and plops down on the opposite end of the couch.

“Well, hello, lovebirds,” he says smugly.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask.

He scoffs. “I was expecting a warmer welcome. What, you get a girl and already forget about your best friend?”

“Oh, we’re not…” Hannah starts, but her voice drifts off before she finishes the sentence. Fox sports a knowing grin aimed in my direction.

“I doubt you’ll let me forget you.” I raise my brow, gesturing toward him as he casually makes himself at home.

“So, what’re we watching?” He grabs a leftover piece of toast from the coffee table, munching away as he makes himself comfortable. “Oh God, not this shit again.”

“No one is making you stay.” I try to subtly get his attention, flicking my gaze between him and the door, hoping he catches the hint to leave.

“Play the damn show,” he quips. Okay, guess not.

Hannah laughs at our bickering. She’s met Fox in passing a handful of times, but we’ve never been in the same place at the same time long enough for them to develop a friendship. It’s one of those things where she mostly knows him from me talking about him and vice versa.

As we watch Matt, this season’s bachelor, date the twelve remaining contestants, Hannah and I argue over who’s best for him and make predictions about who’ll be sent home. Meanwhile, Fox is unusually quiet in his corner. I can’t remember the last time he stayed silent for this long. He’s usually talking my ear off.

Glancing over, I catch him already watching us. “Why are you so quiet? It’s creeping me out.”

He shrugs. “Not used to having a girl around. I’m thinking about what I’m allowed to say around her.”

“Yeah, um, probably not that. You make it sound like we normally talk about shit that would upset her.”

“Don’t hold back on my account,” she chimes in.

“Honestly, I’m clueless about what upsets women. I don’t know what topics are off-limits since I’ve never had a friend who’s a girl. I don’t have a sister. Hell, I don’t even have a relationship with my mom. Whoa, that went way off course.” He chuckles, but it’s forced. “My point is, I’m outta my depths here.” He looks horrified at the realization that he probably doesn’t know all that much about women outside of the bedroom… and romance books.

I laugh at his discomfort, because that’s what friends do. “How about we set a rule of not talking about your hookups? I don’t want to hear about them anyway, so it’s really a win-win. Everything else is fair game.”

He considers this. “Yeah, okay, but everything else is on the table?”

Given that it’s Fox, and I never know what’ll come out of his mouth, I’m thinking I may have just opened the floodgates. “Yeah…”

“In that case, who’s the brunette with the massive tits? I’d pick her… at least for one night.” He waggles his eyebrows.

I throw my head back, but Hannah’s laugh makes it impossible for me to hold in my own. I’m about to tell Fox he might be pushing his luck, but Hannah beats me to it. Rather than scolding him, she just plays along. “That’s Lara. She has a great body, but she’s kind of nuts.”

“Ah yes, the crazy-to-hot ratio. It’s a delicate balance,” he says seriously.

“How much crazy could I get away with?” Hannah jokes, not missing a beat.

“Even if you were committed, in the loony bin, I’d still—” he starts.

“Dude, don’t finish that thought,” I cut him off and scowl in his direction.

Hannah smiles up at me, probably enjoying driving me insane. At this rate, I might be the one who ends up committed.

We watch another episode. This time, Fox joins in with comments.

When the prompt comes up to play the next episode, Fox looks over at us with a wide grin. “I’m understanding the blue balls, my friend.”

I grind my jaw. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re talking about my balls and not yours.”

“Huh?” Hannah tunes back into the conversation. When she gets into the television-watching zone, the world around her disappears. “What kind of friendship do you guys have that talking about each other’s balls is a topic of discussion?” she adds, sitting up to look between us. When Fox and I are too tongue-tied to come up with an explanation, she huffs and lies back down.

Fox chuckles. I’m glad he finds this amusing. “Don’t worry, man, my balls are good.”

The rest of the afternoon goes on much the same—Hannah and Fox ribbing each other, and me trying to keep Fox in line and failing. By the time we’re caught up on episodes, Fox has successfully forced his way into our You’re The One ritual, declaring that from now on, we have to watch them all together. Still not sure how I feel about that.

As I walk him out, Fox stops on the stoop and turns to me. “I like her. I get it now, and I approve.”

I know he means it as a friend, not that he’s into her. He may be a man whore, but he follows basic bro code, unlike someone I know , and our friendship is solid. I trust that he respects what I have with her. Even if, for now, she’s still just my friend.

“Wasn’t waiting for your approval.”

“Carpool tomorrow?” he asks, unfazed.

“Yep, see ya then.”