It feels like a beginning.
“I want to kiss you so badly,” Bryce whispers. “But not until I get a toothbrush and enough mouthwash to fix whatever the hell that garlic massacre was.”
He steps back a little, like it physically hurts him.
“You'll be at the game tomorrow?” he asks. His voice is hope wrapped in nerves.
I nod. “Front row.”
His whole body relaxes. His shoulders drop. His mouth curves.
“Then I’m winning for you.” He hugs me, turns toward the door, pauses, looks back with that crooked smile that ruins me. “And after that… don’t make plans.”
He leaves.
My knees give out.
I sink onto the couch, clutching a pillow, smiling like an idiot.
And if Bryce Blackhorn thinks I’m surviving “don’t make plans” with my sanity intact, he’s out of his damn mind.
Still, I go to bed smiling like someone who absolutelyismaking plans. Hot, sexy plans. Even if I pretend I’m not.
Sanity didn’t just leave my brain, she muttered “good luck with that” on her way out the door.
Chapter twenty
Bryce
“Blackhorn, stop looking at the glass like you’re trying to telepathically undress someone and finish your damn warmup.”
Dex’s chirp ricochets across the ice just as my skate blade almost catches an edge. Almost. Because Annabelle Hacker is sitting behind our bench, bundled in a black coat, hair shining under the arena lights, smiling at something Gabriel’s daughter just handed her.
My entire ribcage tries to exit my body.
I force my focus back to the puck. Miss it by two inches.
Eli howls. “HE’S DOWN BAD. GET A CAMERA ON HIM. DOCUMENT THIS FOR SCIENCE.”
I flip him off. The crowd cheers. Nashville loves a good hostile gesture.
Annabelle laughs behind the glass, and I swear the temperature of this entire building spikes ten degrees.
We head to the bench as warmups end. I try…TRY… not to look at her again.
I fail instantly.
***
The first period starts with me playing like I downed six shots of espresso and chased it with adrenaline. Every time I step on the ice, I know exactly where she is. I feel her. That’s not a normal thing to admit, but screw normal. My life derailed the second she started "following" me around.
I win the first faceoff clean. Rip the puck to Dex. He sends it back. I drive forward, shoulders tight, stick ready.
Shot.
Block.
Rebound.
