Page 37 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

THIRTY-FOUR

“Did you spend the night with him? Did you kiss him? Or more?!” Victoria’s voice rises as she rapid-fires questions, barely managing to stay upright on her skates. That doesn’t stop her from launching into what’s apparently a game of twenty questions.

“Vicky, focus!” my brother calls out.

She’s with Ryan and Helm. I’m with Dom, Summer, and River. Since they’ve got two professional hockey players, we get an extra “player” to even it out. It only feels fair because Helm’s acting more like another ref than a player.

Victoria scowls in his direction. She’s supposed to be trying to steal the puck from me along the boards, but her effort is halfhearted at best.

“No, I didn’t spend the night with him.” Lying is harder than I thought it’d be.

“I’m calling it. You’re going to be the first to have sex with him.”

The first does something weird to my stomach. A sharp twist of emotion. First, because it implies he’s going to sleep with the other women. Which, of course he is. That’s literally the whole point of the suite dates in the final week.

But also, because Dominic would be my actual first. And I still haven’t told him about my experience in that arena. Or lack thereof.

“No, we didn’t kiss,” I add, continuing the string of dishonesty.

“Ugh. He’s so weird, right?” she mutters, irritation fueling her attempt to take the puck.

“He’s not weird.” I defend him before I can think it through. Again.

She eyes me, interest piqued. “I thought of all the girls, you’d agree with me—given your history and all.”

I don’t think I’m ever going to live down my initial dislike for Dom.

“It’s just, I’ve never seen a season where the lead is such a prude. Not even a kiss?” She digs again for the puck.

“He’s not a prude.” I have firsthand knowledge of that now.

No. Do not think about last night.

“Whatever,” she scoffs, losing an edge.

I manage to take possession of the puck and move away from the boards. Breaking away isn’t hard with her skating still being shaky at best.

I have the puck on my stick and I’m skating into the zone… Which zone? Not a clue. My interest in hockey extends about as far as enjoying the rush of the crowd at a live game and whatever Ryan has explained, filtered through my very limited retention.

But I do have the advantage of being decent on skates.

When Ryan showed an interest in hockey, our parents signed me up for skating lessons, too. I can’t say much stuck, but it does feel a bit like riding a bike. Once you get over the fear of immediately falling on your ass, the movements come like second nature.

The guys aren’t contributing much to the game, acting more like coaches… if coaches laughed constantly at how terrible you are. They’re technically playing with us, but mostly so stray pucks don’t ricochet halfway across the rink.

Without them, we’d probably be here for decades before anyone managed to score. Thanks to them, and the goalies laughing too hard to stop the shots, the score is 2–1. Our team is up by one.

I pass the blue line, heading toward the goal, hoping to stretch the lead.

That’s when Victoria, with Summer gripping her hips and propelling her forward, comes barreling up on my left.

Summer gives Victoria a hard shove—no, really, she launches her like a human cannonball—and I have zero chance of dodging the hit.

“What are you doing? You’re on my tea?—”

My shout cuts off as I go down. Hard. Slamming into the boards before crumpling to the ice with Victoria sprawled on top of me.

My first thought: ow.

Followed closely by: Dominic’s going to go full mother hen and ruin all my hard work at playing it cool.

Victoria scrambles back until she’s sitting on the ice with her skates stretched out in front of her. “I’m sorry. We got overzealous. Are you okay?”

I don’t get a chance to answer before a spray of ice hits me. Dom comes to a hard stop and immediately falls to his knees. “Are you okay?”

Summer is right behind him, asking the same.

Dom doesn’t wait for a response; his hands move over me in quick, clinical sweeps, searching for signs of injury.

“Did you hit your head?” He taps unnecessarily at my helmet.

“No.” I bat his hand away. “I’m fine. Really.”

Summer helps Victoria up as another pair of skates glides over. Ryan’s voice comes from my left. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” I tell Ryan, and cut Dom a look he doesn’t catch. He’s too busy checking me, holding my hands and rotating my wrists.

Ryan isn’t nearly as concerned. He nods once and extends a hand. “Here. Let me help you up.”

I try to pull free, but Dom stands and scoops me up before I can react. “I got her,” he says, already skating toward the bench, carrying me bridal style.

Over his shoulder, I catch Ryan trailing behind us, his expression somewhere between amused and uncomfortable.

What did they talk about this morning?

Did Dom tell him the truth about us? His truth or mine?

Did Ryan approve? Did he forbid it? Give him an ultimatum? Threaten him? I can’t see Ryan doing that, but what if he said something that made Dom reconsider?

No. He wasn’t exactly subtle this morning when he greeted me—smiling like he didn’t care who saw.

I look up at Dom, lowering my voice. “How did it go this morning? The talk about us .”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I like that. Us .”

He reaches the exit, his skates clomping against the rubber floor. “It was good.”

Well, that leaves lots of room for interpretation, but at least it sounds vaguely promising.

Dom sets me on the bench and crouches to unlace my skates, but before he can say anything else, Ryan steps up behind him.

I press my lips together, the questions still clawing at my throat.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Ryan asks. “Do you think she broke her ankle? I’m pretty sure she’s good.”

Dom blinks. Once. Twice. Then, finally, he looks up at Ryan, chuckles, and rises to his full height.

“Do we have to put you on injured reserve?” Ryan jokes.

“No, I’m good.” I stand and immediately wobble. One skate’s still loose, thanks to the overprotective man hovering nearby, looking a little lost.

Okay, so we haven’t exactly mastered the whole nonverbal communication thing.

“I’ll lace that back up.” Dom kneels again and pats his thigh.

I prop up my foot, and he tightens the laces so much that by the time he’s done, my other skate feels loose by comparison.

I switch feet, and he raises a brow.

“This one feels loose now,” I explain.

We share a smile before a pointed throat-clearing cuts through the moment.

Dom taps my now-tight skate and stands.

“We’ll meet you out there,” Ryan tells him.

I give Dom a subtle nod, and he skates back onto the ice. The game carries on without us.

Apparently, it’s my turn in the hot seat.

What’s the tactic that always works on those crime shows Hannah watches? Plead insanity? I could probably make a solid case. Evade? That seems like the safer bet.

“What’s going on between you guys?” Ryan drops onto the bench beside me.

“Didn’t Dom tell you?”

“Dom? Since when do you have a nickname for him?”

“Dominic,” I correct with a mock sigh. “Is that better?”

When evasion fails, snark never does.

But Ryan’s not biting. His frown deepens. “Do you like him?”

He says it like it’s such a ridiculous idea. Like I’ve announced I’m moving to Mars.

“Yup.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve called him the worst more times than I can count.”

“Well, opinions can change.”

“Mia.” His tone softens, but it still carries that older-brother edge that makes me feel twelve again. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

I wave it off like it’s no big deal, like I’m not already in deeper than I meant to be. I don’t look at him when I say, “I won’t.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of a requirement when you’re dating someone… trying to date someone.”

“As he’s also dating other women,” he adds, like I need the reminder.

He studies me for a long second, his mouth pressed flat.

“I know he talks about wanting to settle down, but I’m not sure I can see that happening. He likes the idea of love, but the reality? I’m not sure. I don’t want you getting wrapped up in all of this.” He gestures toward the cameras, which I’d all but forgotten were there.

He pauses, thinking it through, then adds, “He does seem… different, but be careful, okay?”

Knowing Ryan, he’ll feel responsible if this doesn’t work out, and nothing I say will ease it. So I nod, even though I don’t agree with my brother’s assessment. Not anymore.

A month ago, Dom didn’t exactly scream long-term. He was charming and reckless and beautiful in that maddening way that made me want to kiss him and strangle him.

But now?

Now I’ve seen more than just the act he puts on. I’ve seen how he shows up for people. How he listens. How hard he tries, especially with me.

He’s still infuriating, but he’s also steady, in ways I didn’t expect.

I don’t think he’d ever purposely hurt me. But that doesn’t mean this is simple.

There are cameras and schedules and confessionals designed to twist everything into something shinier or messier.

It complicates things. I’m counting on the next week in Hawaii to ground me like travel always has.

Exploring new places. Moving. That’s when I feel my best. Hopefully it’ll be enough to balance out everything else.

When I signed up for the show, I thought I was getting a free vacation. I didn’t expect a travel partner.

I definitely didn’t expect him .