And I can't touch her.
Emma immediately drags her off to talk to the other wives and girlfriends. Chase finds me at the bar.
"You good?" he asks.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You keep staring at Maya."
My stomach drops. "I'm not?—"
"You are. And you've been weird around her for weeks." He orders a beer. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. I'm just making sure she's okay."
"Right." He doesn't sound convinced. "Well, whatever it is, be careful. Emma's pregnant and emotional. The last thing she needs is drama."
"There's no drama."
Another lie to add to the collection.
The party progresses. I make my rounds, talking to teammates and their partners, playing the captain role. I stop to chat with Jenkins and his girlfriend. Then Reeves ropes me into some chaotic game with his family.
Across the room, Maya's laughing with Emma and some of the other women. She's relaxed, happy, more herself than I've seen her in months.
But I can't go over there, can't stand next to her, can't touch the small of her back or pull her close or do any of the things I want to do.
Someone bumps into her, one of our rookies, apologizing profusely. Maya smiles and waves it off. The kid's blushing, clearly a little starstruck by the pretty woman.
Jealousy burns hot in my chest. I have no right to feel it. We're not together. She's not mine.
Except she is in every way that matters. She just doesn't know it.
I grab another beer and head outside. The cold air hits my face, sharp and clearing. The bar's patio is empty; everyone is inside where it's warm.
I lean against the railing and stare at the Hartford skyline: lights twinkling in windows, snow starting to fall in soft flakes.
This is torture. Being this close to her, wanting her this badly, and not being able to show it.
The door opens behind me. Maya steps out, arms wrapped around herself against the cold.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah. I just needed air. It's loud in there."
She moves to stand beside me, not close enough to touch.
But I can smell her. It's the combination of her shampoo and the lotion she uses, and something that's just Maya. It's intoxicating, makes me want to close the distance between us, bury my face in her neck, and breathe her in until I'm drunk on it.
The snow catches in her dark curls, each flake melting the moment it touches her. She's so beautiful it physically hurts to look at her.
"Are you having fun?" I ask, voice rougher than I intend.
"I am, actually. Your teammates are nice. Their partners are welcoming." She pauses. "Thank you for this. For everything. I know having me around complicates things."
"You don't complicate anything."
