“I won’t be,” I concede. “But it doesn’t make it right.”
“And you’re always about doing the right thing?” she challenges.
“No. But I’m trying to do the right thing by you.”
“Why?”
“Because I—” The admission gets stuck in my throat.Because I care about you. Because I want what’s best for you, and there’s no way in hell that could be me.
Lennon slides to the top of the crease so our skates are toe-to-toe. “Because you what? I want to hear you say it so I can stop feeling fucking insane.”
“You’re not the only one feeling that way. Trust me.” I reach out and thumb a lock of her hair, just needing to feel something, and it’s part of her that brings out these new feelings in me. I only allow myself a moment of it though, before I drop it. My body feels a natural pull toward her, leaning in on instinct, and I have to actively make myself pull away. “But we can’t.”
“But—”
I skate back and her face falls at the distance it creates between us. “Let’s get to work,” I say, closing the discussion. She wants to argue, I can see it on her face, but it’s an argument she’s not going to win.
We spend the next two hours working on blocks, taking breaks to watch footage of the teams we’ll face after the break, and some light conditioning. There’s no more conversation about anything outside of hockey. Just the way it should be.
I hand Lennon a water bottle as we skate off the ice and head toward the locker room. “You need a ride?”
“No,” she replies curtly.
“So you drove here today?”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought. I’ll meet you in the parking lot in ten.”
She stomps off to the locker room, and I quickly grab my things from my office before ducking out in the chilly air. I get my car running so it can warm up a bit and watch in the rearview for her to come out. Part of me expects her to slip through the front doors of the rink, just to be stubborn and waste my time waiting for her, but a few minutes later she comes trudging into the lot. She walks to my car as if she’s walking to the gallows, and honestly, the feeling is mutual.
I don’t want to have her sitting next to me, in my space, where I can smell her and be with her but not be able to touch her. To talk to her the way I want to. This is stupid. I should’ve let her walk home.
The thought repulses me though, even if Haulton is a safe campus.
I’m just making sure she’s safe. It’s my job.
Lennon shuts her door with a pointed slam, and I wait for her to buckle her seatbelt before I back out of the lot. The ride is tense, both of us on edge and unsure how to act around each other when we don’t have hockey between us to focus on now that we’ve blurred lines, and I’ve struck new boundaries in their place.
But they don’t stop me from glancing over at her as I wind through the quiet roads leading back to her apartment. Her full lips are downturned and look so fucking biteable that my skin itches with restrained desire. She stares straight ahead the entire way, but I can feel her watching me out of the corner of her eye. She’s not happy with me rejecting the idea that we could be anything but what we are right now, and neither am I.
But it’s what’s best.
I pull up to her building and put my car in park. “No practice tomorrow since it’s New Year’s Eve. I’ll give you the next two days off.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m not doing anything.”
“What?” When I was her age, I was out at the bar until it shut down, and even then, we’d continue the party at one of my teammates’ places.
She shrugs. “Everyone is back home for the holidays. One of the girls from my Communications class is having a party and extended the invite, but I don’t think I’m going to go. I don’t really know anyone else there.” She chews her lip and waits, almost like she expects something from me. But I school my features into cool disinterest, and her shoulders hitch.
She flings her door open and tosses over her shoulder, “Thanks for the ride.”
I wait until she gets inside her building, and then I peel away from the curb, the engine of my car roaring at the sudden gas I give it. I need to get away from her building, from her — far, far, away.
Before I do something else stupid.
The short drive over to my place is agonizingly long. My knuckles are stark white against the dark leather of my steering wheel as I wring my hands around it. The heat becomes too much, and I turn it off, cracking my window a bit. The fresh air is soothing against my face, but only for a moment. Just like it’s distracting, but only temporarily.
