As I followed a drop of water, I found myself asking, “What do your tattoos say?”
Finley glanced down at his chest as if he’d forgotten he even had tattoos. He pressed his hand to his ribs, right over the cursive writing. “This is advice Jiro gave us all the time:Fall down seven times and get up eight. He wanted me to know that it didn’t matter how many times I fell, as long as I kept getting up. As long as I kept fighting.”
That statement hit me hard. My knees were weak by how real it felt. “And the other one?” I managed to rasp.
His eyes never left mine. “Well, I have two more now, but I’ll leave the third for another time. The second is a hockey quote:Leave it all on the ice. It has multiple meanings for me, but mostly it’s the way hockey was my therapy and salvation.”
I loved that one too but was slightly distracted by a search for the third tattoo. Wherever it was, it was either very small, on his back, or hidden beneath the towel.
Finley chuckled as he shook his head and turned to enter his wardrobe, reemerging a minute later dressed in jeans and an oldhockey jersey. “Would you like to do something with me today, before the barbeque?” he asked.
My nod was enthusiastic as I really wasn’t ready to give up our bonding time. “Yes, I’d love to. If you don’t think the guys will need our help.”
“Nah, Hunt already messaged and said that we should keep hanging out for a few hours.”
With a muffled snort, I said, “We might need to change his chat name toCupidat this rate.”
It was fairly adorable the ways our big, growly entitled alpha kept his pack safe. We couldn’t have asked for a better leader of our quintet.
Finley grimaced. “You might need to make that suggestion. You’re the only one Hunter won’t kill over a cute nickname.”
Now, didn’t that just make a girl feel a tiny bit special.
“So, what do you want to do today?”
Finley’s slow smile had sparks firing through me. “Dress warm and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Well, that worked wonders in distracting me, and I was excited by this plan, whatever it was. As long as we kept hanging out, I’d be happy.
“Okay! I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Ten minutes later we were in Finley’s big truck, heading out of the compound. A few family members waved as they hauled chairs and tables around, and I was doubly excited for the event after our outing.
Finley controlled the big truck with ease, and I was extra comfortable in the nicely heated seats. When he casually reached out to take my hand, I flinched, taken by surprise. Despite my reaction, he didn’t pull away. Instead he threaded our fingers together, his huge, callused palm sliding against my own. Every part of my body clenched, right down to my toes in warm socks and furred boots.
I’d dressed similarly to Finley, in jeans, with layers of shirt, sweater, and one of his hoodies over the top. As I’d guessed earlier, it was icy today.
When he turned onto the road that led to his hockey stadium, I settled back, enjoying the silent but relaxed ride. There was no music or distractions, just the two of us, with Finley’s thumb tracing a path over my palm.
“You have a calm soul,” he said, with a contented rumble. “I’ve searched for calm my entire existence.”
“Me too,” I admitted, before we fell silent again to enjoy said calm.
When the rink came into view, Finley pulled into a spot near the players’ entrance, and before I could open my door, he was there helping me out. When the breeze cut through my hoodie, I tried not to shiver. Finley grabbed a sports bag from the back and looped his arm over my shoulders, his heat chasing away the chill.
“Come on, darlin’, let’s play some hockey.”
We ended up in the locker room, and I wasn’t surprised to find them fancy and clean, the same teal, gold, and white of their jerseys filling the walls in stripes and logos.
The Wolves were the top team in the league, which meant plenty of money to keep everything in peak condition for the players and spectators.
“You know I can’t skate, right?” I said, feeling the need to put that out there. “I don’t even mind just watching you. You’re kind of magic on the ice.”
“I’m going to teach you to skate,” he said as he pulled a gorgeous pair of white skates from the bag. “This is the gift I had in my room for you. I think I mentioned that this morning when I stumbled in from the bar.” A slight pink tinged his cheeks while I gawked at the shiny, pretty skates.
Finley nudged me down onto the bench and knelt before me to remove my boots. His hands were gentle as he slid the skates on my feet, focusing as he laced them up. “This should be the right size,” he murmured, checking everything closely.
“They feel perfect,” I assured him, having no idea if that was true or not as this was my first time wearing a pair of skates.
