James. That’s what Lincoln said his name was.
“I have her mom’s camera.” Handing it to James, I crouch down beside the cutie, placing my arm around her shoulder and smile brightly. I notice Bayleigh is watching me, a similar smile on her face.
“Say cheese.” James snaps the picture and hands the phone back to me.
“Thank you, man. Oh wait, do you have a marker I can borrow for a second?”
He signs something to Bayleigh, and she hands me a marker before her hands start moving rapidly.
“Bayleigh said you can borrow it, but you have to give it back. It's her favorite.”
“Well, then I'll move closer to her so she knows I’m not going to steal it. I’m Milton, by the way.” I can’t help but wink as I step over to her.
I sign the girl's stick, and hand it back to her, before returning the marker to Bayleigh.
“Here you go.”
James translates for me, and while it should feel weird, having someone relay everything I say, it doesn’t. Instead, it feels natural.
“This is going to be a long day. I already feel like my hand is about to fall off from all the autographs and handshakes. I’m terrible at signing but great at catching flying pucks,” I joke awkwardly.
Her hands start moving quickly, and James laughs.
“She said you might not want it to fall off, especially since the Scorpions need you. As for the signing, it takes time to learn,” James tells me. My eyebrow raises in confusion. “She can read lips if you speak clearly and where she can see your mouth.”
“Good to know. Well, I need to get this sweetheart back to her mom and return to my table.” I walk away, but as I go, I take another look over my shoulder at her.
An hour later, I’m on the ice while we put on a demonstration for those in attendance. I decided at the last minute to add a chance for the fans to try their hand at scoring a goal againstme. If I’d known the cockiest teenagers on the face of the planet would be here today, I’d have thought twice about it.
Karma hits me—literally. A teenage boy, sporting a Kraken jersey, fires a puck that ricochets off the post and nails me square in the wrist. Typically, it wouldn’t have bothered me as badly, but today I’m not wearing my pads.
I can hear everyone calling out, asking if I’m okay, and I just wave it off.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, lifting my hand in the air, making a show of moving it around.
When I glance to the left, I see Bayleigh’s already crossing the ice. She crouches beside me and gently checks my hand for swelling. Her touch is soft and gentle, her expression matching. Bayleigh takes my non-injured hand in hers and and a tingle runs up my spine. I’ve never felt something like this before and I’m afraid if I let go I never will again. She gives a gentle tug og my hand, urging me forward, leading me off the ice. I try to resist, but the little firecracker isn’t taking no for an answer.
She guides me over to the benches and rushes to the first aid stand set up just to the right of it, returning with an ice pack in her hand. She fusses about making sure it’s securely on my wrist. The moment she leans in, her scent hits me—green tea and mint wrapping around me, cool and clean, grounding.James steps up beside us, taking off his jacket and placing it under my hand to elevate it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Benton across the rink, jaw tight, watching our every move. James notices too and snickers quietly. “You’re gonna get her in trouble,” he teases, voice low.
I can’t help but smirk, though I’m suddenly hyperaware of those Lennox eyes burning holes through me.
While Bayleigh ices my wrist, I take hold of her chin, tilting her head up so she can see me talk. “Lincoln’s been happy sincehe met you. He’s always on the phone messaging you with a silly grin on his face.”
Her hands still, as a look of surprise flickers across her face. James starts to translate, but she shakes her head—she caught every word of what I said. A small, proud smile tugs at her lips, and I can’t help grinning.
“Guess he’s serious about you,” I say, half-teasing, half-sincere. “I bet he’ll even start learning sign language, just so he can speak to you without someone interpreting. No offense, James.”
She rolls her eyes, cheeks flushing, and keeps tending to my wrist. I let her do it for a little while longer, liking the way her hands feel on my skin.
Eventually, James leads her back over to the Krakens’ table where I see a pissed-off big brother waiting. I give him a wave and head over to Korbin.
“Not you too,” he mumbles.
“What?” I question him.
“Falling for the enemy.”
