The driver pulled away from the curb, and each second of silence between them felt like the clang of a grandfather clock.
“Do you need water?” Tyler opened a mini fridge near the floor.
“No, I’m good.” She looked out the window, her hands clasped in her lap. This was going to be torture.
"Look, Emma, about what happened—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her words were clipped, her tone cool and distant. “I’m here to network, that’s it.”
Tyler clenched his jaw and rubbed his hand over his chest, as if that would ease the pressure there.She wouldn’t turn her face from the damn window.“Then I’ll do the talking. I’m sorry for—”
“You already apologized.”
“I apologized for keeping the baskets, but not for breaking the rules, soI’m sorry. Again”
Emma didn’t answer. The collar of her wool coat was flipped up on one side, and he wanted to reach out and fix it. He was so focused on holding his hands in place, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from spewing out.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “I texted and never heard back, and every time I tried to talk to you—” His throat tightened, and he swallowed.What the hell was wrong with him?It felt like every one of his ribs was curling inward and pinching his lungs.
He unzipped his sweater. “Then you were standing there in that hell-hole of a closet with your hair all . . . and that sweater—” Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, Emma had turned from the window.
She pinned him with a steely gaze. “Are you saying you find me attractive, Bowen?”
Tyler coughed a laugh and reached for his bottle of water already sitting in the cupholder. Relief flooded through him. He didn’t for one second believe she’d forgiven him, but this was something. “Don’t pretend you don’t know the effect you have onmen, Emma.”
Her lips twitched, recognizing her own words from that night they’d sat in his truck outside her apartment building.
Tyler’s stomach lurched.Holy. Hell.Had he ever paid that much attention to someone? He barely remembered what he had for breakfast on any given day, but when it came to Emma, he had every minute detail seared into his head.
He’d kissed her in the storage room not because he found herattractive, but because heneeded to. Because if he didn’t touch her, his body was going to split at the seams and smoulder.
Did he—? Was this—?
Tyler took another long swig from his water and reclined, staring at the upholstered ceiling.Shit.Blood rushed in his ears thinking about practice the night before.
Sean handed him his mitt in the locker room as he was getting dressed. “You left this. After the game.”
Tyler dropped his hockey bag. “I was just about to run out to my truck. Thanks, man.”
Sean turned, then hesitated. “I went to stop it by your house and Brett said you were at work.” Tyler frowned, wondering why Brett hadn’t said anything, or why Sean hadn’t left the mitt at the house. “I was curious to see the property—Emma’s been talking about how busy she’s been at work.”
Tyler’s heart sank like a stone in his chest. Had Sean come to the house? Tyler hadn’t seen him and he still had his mitt, which meant—
“I saw you. With Emma.”
Tyler’s throat went dry. What was he supposed to say to that? “No, Sean, you have it all wrong. I’m only pretending to screw your sister, not actually doing it.”
“Emma’s better than the other women you’ve been with, you know that, right?” Sean asked, still not turning fully to look at him. Tyler swallowed hard. “She dated that asshat Alex Turner who used to play for C-Biscuit, I don’t expect you to know him, but he was a raging narcissist. Messed with her head. Made her feel like shit and then love bombed her until she was convinced she couldn’t live without him. Tossed her in the trash and then reeled her back in.”
Sean looked up, his eyes hard. “I was there the night she finally stood up to him—the night she left.” His jaw worked, and he drew a tight breath. “I don’t know what this is for you, if it’s a bloody challenge or distraction, but I think we both know she doesn’t need more of this.” Sean motioned between the two of them.
Tyler clenched his jaw, and Sean rubbed a hand over his buzzed head.
“I don’t think you’re a narcissist, and I know I’m not any damn better than you, so this isn’t me passing judgement—” The door swung open, and Ryan, Fly, and Suraj bustled in chortling about something.
Sean dropped his eyes, nodded once, then stalked back to the other side of the room.
Message received, loud and clear. He would’ve been pissed if Sean hadn’t been half-right. Emma was better than him, and he knew exactly what she wanted. Something he didn’t know how to give anyone. But as of five seconds ago, he knew this wasn’t a challenge or distraction for him. That realization felt like a cheap shot slamming him against the boards.
