“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey,” I echo, trying not to smile, and fail.
We fall into rhythm: five minutes of easy pedaling, no resistance. Then quad sets, banded knee extensions, balance work on the pad. I keep my tone even, my hands steady, every movement precise.
“You’re relying on the brace less,” I note.
“Feels stronger,” he says, breath even.
When I have him stretch, he holds my gaze a second too long. I glance toward the closed door. No one yet. My hand brushes his knee as I smooth the brace strap, and his fingers find mine—quick, instinctive.
The touch sends a shimmer of heat up my arm, goosebumps rising in its wake.
“Charlie,” he murmurs.
It’s reckless, but I let him lift my face up to his. His mouth is warm, steady, tasting faintly of mint and something darker. The kiss is soft but hits like a jolt.
I can’t stop the small, breathless smile that follows. My heart’s pounding, and I whisper, “I didn’t see that listed as part of protocol.”
He almost smiles. “Maybe it should be.”
“Meetings, weights, media. The usual circus,” he says, but there’s a spark behind his eyes now, a quiet pulse of energy that wasn’t there before.
“You’ve missed it,” I say.
“Yeah,” he admits softly. “Missed the noise. The routine. The guys. Feels good to be back in it.”
I nod, warmth spreading through my chest. For all his gruff edges, there’s pride in his voice, and something softer too.
Before I can stop myself, I glance at the closed door, then rise onto my toes and kiss him—quick, sure, tasting like trouble and relief in the same breath.
His breath catches, just barely, and that almost-smile of his returns, the one that feels like it’s just for me.
A half hour later, after Declan heads out to meetings and I’m back restocking bands, I hear a familiar sound behind me.
“Hey, superstar.”
I turn to see David leaning against the doorframe, headset around his neck, a half-empty coffee in hand.
“You’ve been hard to track down,” he says. “Dan said you’ve been everywhere today.”
I shrug. “Vic’s on skate duty, Dan’s handling pre-game checks, and someone has to keep Torres from wrapping his wrist like a mummy.”
David huffs a laugh. “Poor kid’s superstition is off the charts. Half the team’s been copying him.”
“Tell them to stop before I run out of tape.”
He grins. “I’ll add it to the agenda.”
I roll my eyes, but grin. “How’s Erin and Maya?”
“They’re good. Maya’s still talking about that duet with Sophie. Erin says you’re the favorite aunt again.”
“I’ll take my victories where I can,” I say, but my chest warms anyway.
He nods toward my tablet. “How’s the workload?”
“Busy. Controlled chaos. Just how I like it.”
