I wish I could leave it in the car. The anger. The noise. The headlines. But it follows me up the stairs.
The moment I step inside, the warmth of her place hits me—garlic and herbs, the low hum of music, the soft clutter of her kind of order. She looks up from the counter and smiles, but it falters when she sees my face.
“Rough day?” she asks.
“Something like that.” I drop my gear bag too hard, the thud echoing through the apartment. She jumps slightly, and guilt flashes sharp in my gut. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine,” she says, but her voice is careful now, quiet. “You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I yank open the fridge and grab a bottle of water. The cap cracks in my hand as I twist it. “Same shit, different day.”
She wipes her hands on a towel, watching me. “You sure? Because your ‘same day’ face looks like it’s about to start a bar fight.”
That gets a bitter laugh out of me. “They were talking about me again. On the panel. Stats, attitude, whatever. Apparently I’m not just slumping—I’m a headline.”
Her expression softens. “Leo…”
“I know it’s stupid. It’s noise. Coach says ignore it, the guys say ignore it. But every time I close my eyes, it’s there. That word.Distraction.” My jaw tightens. “They think I’m off my game because of where I’m living. Because of you.”
She blinks. “Because of me?”
“I didn’t mean it like—” I stop, exhale, drag a hand through my hair. “It’s not you. It’s just—everything. The flood, the constant cameras. I can’t breathe without someone making a story out of it.”
Sage doesn’t flinch. She steps closer, eyes steady. “You’re allowed to be human, Leo. You don’t have to play goddamn perfect all the time.”
Her words are soft, but they hit like a body check. I look at her, really look, and the pressure in my chest shifts—turns into something else entirely. Something dangerous.
She doesn’t know what she does to me when she looks at me like that.
For a moment, all I can do is stare at her. The kitchen light halos around her hair, and the scent of whatever she was cooking clings to the air—warm, grounding. She’s the calm I can never seem to hold onto, the one thing that feels real when everything else is static.
“I don’t want to talk about hockey anymore,” I say, voice low. “Not tonight.”
She studies me for a heartbeat, then nods. “Okay. Then don’t.”
Her hand moves toward the stove, reaching for a pan to check on, but before she can, I catch her wrist.
“Leo—” she starts, but I shake my head. I don’t even know what I’m doing until I’ve already stepped closer. The distance between us shrinks until there’s nothing left but heat.
She tilts her chin up, breath hitching. “You’re wound so tight, you’re going to break.”
“Maybe I need to,” I murmur.
Her lips part just slightly, and that’s all it takes. The dam cracks. I kiss her hard enough that the world falls away.
The pan hisses behind us, forgotten. Her fingers twist into my shirt, dragging me closer. Every ounce of frustration, doubt, and anger burns through me, turning into something raw and hungry.
Sage gasps against my mouth when I back her against the counter. I pause, searching her eyes for any hint of hesitation—but all I see is the same need reflected back. The same ache.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers.
“Probably,” I say. Then kiss her again anyway.
The kiss deepens, sharp and breathless. Her laugh breaks between us—a sound that’s part surrender, part defiance. I kiss Sage like I am trying to set her skin on fire, my hands begin gripping her hips as I press her against the cool granite counter. Her legs wrap around my waist, locking me in, and I grind against her, feeling her heat through the thin fabric of her leggings. Her moans are muffled by my mouth, but I taste her desperation, her need mirroring my own. I tore my lips from hers, trailing kisses down her neck, nipping at the sensitive spot where her pulse flutters wildly.
“Leo,” she gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. “You’re going to break me.”
“Good,” I growl, my hands sliding up her thighs, pushing her leggings down. She kicks them off, her bare skin electric against mine. I step back just enough to yank my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Her eyes rake over my chest, her breath catching as I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pull them down with deliberate slowness. Her pussy was already glistening, wet and ready for me, and I groan, my cock throbbing in anticipation.
