By the time the locker room chaos dies down—showers, chirps, the media gauntlet—I’m striding toward the lot, bag slung over my shoulder, the buzz of the game still in my veins.
Most of the guys peel off toward the family lounge. Jake for Charlie and the kids, Ryan for Claire and Poppy, Eli for Tamara, and Chase for Zoe. I don’t head that way. No reason to. My car’s waiting, the night cool against the back of my neck as I step outside.
And then I see her.
Lulu, leaning against my car, shoulders hunched tight against the chill, grinning like she’s been caught red-handed.
“Can I have a ride, Mr. Miller?”
I nearly combust on the spot. My chest does something stupid, like it’s too full for the ribs holding it.
“Jesus, Lu.” I shift the gear bag and quickly look over my shoulder. “You trying to get me killed?”
Her smirk widens. “Relax. Eli thinks I’m riding with Zoe. Zoe thinks I’m riding with Eli.” She takes a step toward me, trailing her fingertip down my chest. “But I wantedyouto give me a ride.”
I want to kiss her right here in the lot, floodlights be damned, but then I register where she is. “Tallulah. How long have you been out here alone?” My voice comes out harsher than I mean it. “Parking lot’s full of creeps.”
Her smirk falters, but only a little. “The creepiest one out here is you.”
My hand finds her jaw, fingers slipping into her hair, tilting her head until her eyes meet mine. Pretty sky blue shines back at me. “Not funny, Lu. Don’t do that again.”
“Okay,” she whispers, eyes not leaving mine as she leans up higher to my mouth. “Noted.”
I blow out a breath and step back, aware Eli could walk out at any moment. Stepping around her, I yank the passenger door open. “Get in.”
She blinks. “You always this bossy after a win?”
“Only when you’re standing around like bait,” I mutter. “Inside.”
Her smile creeps back as she slides in, tugging the beanie from her head. I shut the door gently behind her before heading around to the driver’s side.
I toss my bag in the back, then climb in, heart hammering like I just skated another shift.
The first few blocks are quiet, headlights slicing through the dark. One hand tightens on the wheel, the other on the console. “Been thinkin’…” My throat feels raw. “You’d look good in my jersey.”
Her head snaps toward me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” My voice is low. “But Eli would lose his shit.”
Her laugh is soft, wistful. “He’d never let me hear the end of it.”
I risk a glance at her, something twisting hard in my chest. “Still worth it.”
There’s silence for a beat, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Wonder if she realizes what I’m saying, if she feels the same way. Her hand drifts, brushing mine where it rests on the console, and I open my mouth, ready to say more, when my car phone rings through the dash.
I hit speaker without thinking.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Two shots on net in the first. Missed coverage on the backcheck in the second. Could’ve been cleaner.” His voice is clipped, surgical. No hello, no congrats, just numbers carved into me.
“Yeah,” I say, jaw tight as Lulu’s wide eyes stare at me. “We won.”
“Because of your goalie. Keep your shifts shorter next time. You’re gassing out.”
There’s no goodbye before the line goes dead, and the silence after is brutal. Even the engine hum feels too loud.
Lulu’s looking down at her hands fisted in her lap. “Logan…”
