I open my mouth, but he lifts a brow.
“Come on.You’ve seen the strategy decks.Hockey’snewgolden couple.You, the reformed captain.Her, the heart-of-gold country girl.It’s PR crack.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw.“She doesn’t even know they’ve got her in it.”
“Then you’d better tell her before someone else does.”
I nod, but the thought of her eyes when she finds out… I can’t.Not yet.Not until I figure out how to make it sound less ugly.
Dante squeezes my shoulder.“If she means something to you.If the lovee-dovee shit is real and not an act.Don’t let them turn that into content.”
He walks away, and anger bubbles up first that he would even insinuate that my relationship with Tessa is fake, then the guilt pushes it aside.
I’m supposed to stay in the city tonight, early skate, meetings, but I can’t shake the pull.
I decide not to fight it and go.Headlights slicing through the dark stretch of highway between the city and Hawthorne Ridge.Every kilometre feels like shedding another layer of noise until it’s just me, the hum of the tires, and the lure of having her next to me tonight.
When I reach her driveway, the porch light is on.
She opens the door, hair in a loose braid, hoodie drowning her frame.Barefoot.Soft.Real.Her.
“Nate?What are you doing here?”
“I missed you.”
She blinks, surprised.“You have practice at six.”
“I’ll drive back before sunrise.I just… needed to see you.Is that okay?”
The corners of her mouth soften.“Yeah.Of course it’s okay.”
I step inside.The house smells like lemon, cedar, and her shampoo.I hook a finger under her chin and kiss her once, slow, until I feel the last of the day drain out of me.
Her hands slide under my shirt, palms flat against my ribs.Warm and steady.
“I love that you just show up,” she whispers.
“Can’t help it.”I breathe her in.“Everything feels wrong until I’m with you.”
She smiles, small and knowing.“You sound tired.”
“I am.”
“Then let's go to bed.”
The bedroom’s half-lit, the moon spilling pale light across her sheets.
When she curls against me, something inside me loosens, the coil of control I hold for the team, for the cameras, for the world.I brush her braid over her shoulder and kiss the back of her neck.
“You smell like summer,” I murmur.
“You smell like the rink.”
I laugh softly.“That bad?”
“Not bad.Just… you.”
Her laughter fades when my hand slips under her shirt, tracing the line of her stomach, up to where her breath catches.
