Page 13

Chloe

We head to the room they have set up for us and make our way over to where Aiden and Sebastian are sitting.

“How are the lovebirds doing?” Seb asks when we sit.

“Are you going to call us that every time you see us?” I ask quietly.

He pretends to think about it a moment.

“Yep.” He takes several bites of food.

Gunner turns to me.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” I stand up and push my chair in and head over to the hot bar.

I make my way down the line, picking foods that I hope won’t make me sick.

Once I’m settled at the table, I open a dairy tablet and throw it down before I start my food.

Gunner joins me a moment later and puts a glass of ice water down in front of me.

“Is that good or did you want something else?”

“Water’s good. Thanks.” I take a bite and then look up.

“What?” Aiden, Rico, and Sebastian are all watching us.

Sebastian grins.

“Ah. Young love.”

I shake my head and go back to eating.

Thankfully, things settle back into our norm.

It’s not actually the first time I’ve eaten with these guys.

I’ve done it many times over the years, just not as Gunner’s fiancé.

I finish eating before the guys are done and put my napkin down next to my plate.

“I’m going to get some photos.” Gunner nods and keeps eating.

I make my way around the room taking photos and videos to throw on the team socials later.

“Chloe,” Zac calls out when I get to his table.

“Come sit with us.”

“I’m good. Thanks. Smile.” I snap a few photos.

“Yeah, sit with us,” Dylan says, sliding out a chair for me.

“We want to know if our captain is treating you well.”

“He is.”

Zac sits back in his chair.

“Just how did you guys end up engaged so fast? I mean we’ve all known how cap feels about you, but engaged?” He frowns.

I measure my words carefully.

I knew this would probably happen at some point.

“It’s not fast, Zac. Gunner and I have worked together for four years.”

“Yeah, remember she threw herself at him the first day?” Dylan jokes.

I feel my face instantly heat up, and I stand to my feet.

He’s just repeating what he’s heard; he wasn’t even on the team back then.

“She what?” one of the rookies asks.

“She asked Cap out the first day of her job here.”

“What?”

“No way!”

“She was a puck bunny?”

“Hey, leave her be,” Zac snaps at them.

“That’s Cap’s girl you’re talking about.”

Mortification sweeps through me, and I take an unsteady step backwards, right into a hard chest.

I feel a hand ghost my spine before Gunner steps past me and puts both hands on the table and levels a look around the table.

The laughter dies instantly.

“I am only going to say this once, so listen up. Chloe is mine. You don’t talk about her, and you certainly don’t make fun of her. What happens between us is just that...between us. You have a problem with Chloe…you have a problem with me, and you don’t want to have a problem with me.”

I notice that it’s gone quiet around the entire room, and I want to die of embarrassment.

I keep my head up, like none of this bothers me.

Gunner stands up and looks at each of them.

“Sorry, Chloe,” Zac says, meeting my eye.

I acknowledge his words with a nod.

Gunner turns around and takes my hand in his and leads me back to our table.

Right before we get there, I tug on his hand.

He turns to look at me.

“I’m going to head back to the room.”

“Soon, I promise. But don’t let them see you leave yet, like they got to you.” His words are low and earnest, and I see the value of them.

He squeezes my hand and then pulls my chair out for me.

“Don’t worry, Chloe, we’ll get them back during practice,” Sebastian says.

“Rookies,” Rico says, grinning.

“They gotta learn.”

Thankfully, Gunner finishes just a few minutes later and stands up.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

We make our way towards the door, but before we get there, Coach waves us over.

“You get it handled?” he asks.

“Yes,” Gunner says.

Coach looks at me.

“Sorry, Chloe. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s fine.”

I step away while they talk briefly about the game tomorrow, and then we make our way out of the room.

Gunner’s quiet, so I stay the same as we make our way through the lobby and into the elevator.

There’s a hotel staff member in the elevator with us, so we continue in silence.

When we get to our room, Gunner opens it and lets me go through first.

“Hey,” he says before I get two feet from him.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. They shouldn’t have said any of that.”

I grimace.

“How much did you hear?”

He crosses his arms over his massive chest.

“Enough.”

I cringe.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, and it won’t happen again.”

“Thanks.” He walks away, and I want to stay quiet.

I really do.

“Did you tell everybody?”

He turns back to me.

“What?”

I forge on.

“Did you tell everybody about it after it happened? Was it like a huge team joke how I asked you out my first day of work?”

“No.” His voice is sharp.

“I didn’t tell anybody about it, Chloe.”

I can’t believe I’m bringing this up four years later, but I’m still burning from embarrassment from tonight.

So even though this is against rule number five, I have to know.

“Then how does everybody know?”

“Simmons saw what went down that day,” he says quietly.

“He told everybody before I even made it to the locker room.”

Simmons played with the Green Thunder only for two years; his second year was the year I started working for the team.

“Oh.”

“I canned the talk as soon as I heard, but it was too late. Everybody knew.”

“And now, it’s a great joke. It’s fine; it really is. I was young and stupid.”

“Because you asked me out.”

I look up at him.

“What?” I ask in confusion.

“You were young and stupid because you asked me out. Now you know better. Right?” His words have a harsh edge to them.

“What do you mean?”

He palms the back of his neck.

“Never mind. I need to go do a few things; I’ll be back. Lock the door behind me.” He’s out of the room a moment later, leaving me to stare after him.

I really don’t want to think about any of this anymore, and I have work to do.

So, I do what I do best.

.

.

work.

I block out the world around me and zone in.

Gunner’s still not back when I decide I can’t stay awake a moment later.

I head into the bathroom and take a shower and then change into my silk shorts and tank top set.

Thankfully, it’s this one and not one of my nighties I packed.

It doesn’t take me long to get ready for bed.

Before I leave the bathroom, I listen for Gunner.

When I’m pretty certain he’s not in the room, I open the bathroom door and make a beeline for the bed.

I throw the covers over me and then still my racing heart.

I make sure I’m as far to the side of the bed as I can possibly be.

And then I close my eyes and try to sleep and wonder how in the world I landed myself in the spot where I now have to share a bed with the man I’ve been avoiding for four years.

I wake up and know instantly I’m going to be sick.

I don’t even glance at the clock as I stand up and make my way on shaky legs to the bathroom.

I close the door and manage to throw on the light switch before I hit my knees beside the toilet.

My stomach cramps hard, and I spend the next few minutes alternating between going to the bathroom and throwing up.

.

.

and regretting all my life’s choices.

And then the door opens, and I think I might die.

Thankfully, I’m currently hovering over the toilet and not sitting on it.

The cramping hasn’t completely eased, and I rock back and forth with my hands on my stomach.

He doesn’t say a word, but I feel him pull my hair out of the way and put a cool cloth on my neck.

I can’t even lift my head or manage a thank you, because I’m so sick.

I want to tell him to leave, but I can’t get the words out.

“You don’t need to be here; you need to sleep,” I manage to finally get out at some point.

He doesn’t say anything, and I keep my head down on my arms.

I’m not sure how much time passes before I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Can I help you back to bed?” I really want to, but I’m afraid I might get sick again.

But I know I don’t want to stay on the bathroom floor all night.

Sometimes, the cramping will ease if I can just lay down and rest.

“Yes,” I manage to whisper.

I push my head up from the toilet and try to push off the toilet.

Strong arms come around me and help me stand.

“Want me to carry you?” he asks.

“No.” I would forever be mortified.

He keeps a steady hand on my elbow and helps me back to bed.

As soon as I lay down, I curl into a ball and close my eyes and will my stomach to relax.

I hear Gunner moving around, and then the lights go out.

“Wake me up if you get sick again.”

“Okay,” I say softly.

I feel the bed shift, and then it goes still.

I’m too sick to dwell on the fact that he’s in bed now with me.

Instead, I try to think of the most pleasant thoughts I can think of and just completely let my stomach relax.

When it still doesn’t calm down after a little while, I push back the covers and try to find my purse in the dark.

The light comes on, and I blink; but it helps me find my purse.

“Thank you. Sorry.” I dig out my bottle of ibuprofen and use the water bottle on my nightstand to throw them back.

I crawl back into bed a moment later, and he turns the light out again.

It takes at least thirty minutes before my stomach starts to relax and then I’m finally able to sleep.

I wake to the sound of my alarm blaring.

I quickly grab my phone and shut it off.

I roll onto my back and fling my arm over my eyes and still when I hear a grunt.

It all comes rushing back.

I’m in a bed.

With Gunner.

.

.

and I threw up during the night, and I’m pretty sure I just hit him with my arm.

“ Sorry,” I whisper.

I don’t look at him; I can’t.

I try to think through my choices.

“Are you feeling better?” His voice is so low, it practically rumbles the bed.

Don’t think about his sexy, morning voice.

Be professional.

“ Yes.”

“Good.”

“Uh, do you want to use the bathroom first or do you want me to?”

“You can if you want; I’m going to lay here a few more minutes.”

I don’t wait a moment longer.

I slip out of bed, grab my bag, and make a beeline to the bathroom.

.

.

all without looking at the male in bed.

When I get to the bathroom, I go to work on getting ready for the day.

It doesn’t take me long; I’m used to these road trips.

Twenty minutes later, my hair is straightened and pulled back into a bun, my makeup is done, and I’m dressed in Gunner’s jersey, my black pencil skirt, and heels.

When I open the bathroom door, he’s still in bed; so, I try to be quiet as I move around the room.

“Why were you sick during the night? Was it something you ate?”

His voice startles me mainly because I thought he was still asleep.

“I think I got dairy somewhere. I get really sick like that if I get dairy. I’m sorry I kept you up.”

I keep my back to him as I pack my bag.

“You told me the list of foods you can’t eat, but you didn’t tell me you could get so sick,” he says from much closer.

I make the mistake of turning around.