I hear the door to the workshop open, but I don’t look up. I know it’s Rory by the tread of his steps and the faint tease of his cologne.
When I do look up, I go still.
I’m not sure what that look on Roe’s face means.
“Rory?”
His blue eyes are intense.
“We need to talk, Gabe.”
Chapter nineteen
Roe Monroe
The Bench Social Media Group
Riley Novak: I don’t want to start anything, but Roe Monroe played like a man on fire tonight. Two goals.Two assists. Thatcher and Jamie were both in the stands.
Ash Patel: You mean the game where Roe pointed to Jamie after the second goal? The kid lit up like a Christmas tree.
Stan Gordon: That wasn’t just a good game. That was NAPH bait. You don’t skate like that unless someone’s watching.
Patti Jensen: Speaking of watching—Thatcher didn’t move the whole third period. Just leaned forward like his life depended on the outcome.
Gabe blinks at me and pushes back from his workbench. Any other time, I would love for him to tell me about the miniature Fox River Falls he’s creating. He doesn’t even try to hide it from me this time.
A while back I came out here looking for him and saw the tub on the workbench with the lid off instead of tucked secretly on the shelf. His work is amazing, but since he never mentioned what he was working on, I didn’t know if I should mention that I saw it. And touched it. And looked through the pieces.
But right now, my heart is hammering too hard for me to think straight about anything other than the call I just had.
I lean my ass against the workbench, nervous energy causing me to shift my phone from one hand to the other.
“What’s wrong, Rory?” he asks, maybe for the second time.
My mouth goes dry.
“I got called up.” I’m not sure how I deliver the words. They seem strange and foreign to even say. I hadn’t expected a call-up at all this season. Not really. Not as much as I had convinced myself I expected it.
Gabe, God bless this amazing man, doesn’t miss a beat. His first, genuine reaction is a huge smile that breaks across his face like the sun itself from behind a storm cloud.
“That’s fantastic. You were phenomenal tonight.”
A breath leaves me. The first I feel I’ve taken in a long minute.
“You thought I was phenomenal?”
“Of course I did.”
I can’t help the smile now. No one is a harder sell on hockey than Thatcher.
“Thing is that I’m supposed to be on a plane.” I look at my watch. “Team plane in less than an hour. Game’s out east, so I’m behind before I start.”
Gabe is moving now, up out of his chair, ready to problem solve. “What do you need?”
I put a hand on his chest, the feel of it warm and inviting to my touch. It pulls me in, begging me to be right here, turning that touch into something more. I’ve never been this addicted to anyone, but I settle for wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close.
“You okay with this?”
