“Ah, yes. The perfect thing to do on a Tuesday afternoon,” she teases. “Fair warning. This place will start buzzing in about fifteen minutes.”
“You’re getting crowds before the season even kicks off?”
“Not quite. The guys have deemed this their ‘home base’ for team bonding or something. Was supposed to be for all the new guys, but the vets started turning up, too.”
“The guys?”
“Voltage.”
Nodding, I push off the barstool. “Then that’s my cue to leave,” I mumble before chugging half of my fresh drink. “Thanks for the drinks.” I slide her a ten-dollar bill for my drinks and make my way to the door. As I open it and step out, I run smack into a brick wall, both crutches clattering to the ground. By a stroke of luck, I find myself in the arms of said wall, the fresh scent of eucalyptus and something warm and clean wrapping around me.
“Oof. Sorry, Katibug. You okay?”
Glancing up, I squint as the change in lighting from the dim bar to the sunny summer day throws off my vision. Not that Ineed to see the man’s face to know whose arms are still holding me in place.
The big burly beast gently pushes hair away from my face before helping me regain my footing. “Kates. You good?”
I realize then he has been trying to draw my attention.
I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs that have taken up residency inside my brain. “No, I mean, yes, I’m good.”
He reaches down and gathers my fallen crutches, depositing them professionally under each arm, the black washcloths and red duct tape on the tops giving them just enough of a Voltage flair.
“You had your appointment today,” he says quietly. “How’d it go?”
“Fine,” I lie and immediately regret it. Silas despises that word. “Sorry. I have to meet up with my mom.” I turn to the side as I try to slip past him, but he hesitates. His gaze is too intent on studying me, that quiet skepticism of his softening into concern.
“Yeah, of course,” he says, voice still low. “I’ll call you later, yeah?”
“Sure.”
I fumble my way down the sidewalk as fast as I can with crutches. Inside, I’m begging him not to call after me, because all it would take is him tilting my chin up to meet his worry-filled gray eyes, and I’d tell him anything he wanted to know.
But that’s the problem, isn’t it?
Silas has always been my safety, my bubble wrap. He protected me from myself, from the press, from face-planting at the rink, but it was always a game to see how many of those little bubbles I could pop before he’d had enough.
I don’t need him to wrap me in safety.
Doesn’t mean I don’t want him to.
Chapter 14
Silas
Some hits you see coming. You square up, brace for impact, and pray you come out on top. Then there’s the high stick into the boards that comes from behind, the one that knocks you to the ice not knowing how to breathe before you even realize who targeted you.
Running into Oakley outside Stumps?
Definitely the latter.
“Was that who I think it was?” Rooks asks as I watch a retreating Oakley Kate disappear around the corner.
“If by who, you mean Kates? Yep. That’d be her.”
The love of my life crutching down a city sidewalk because she’s too stubborn to ask for a ride. But what do I know, right? I’m just the puckhead who wants too much.
As Rooker shoves me through the door and steers me to an open barstool, I trust my friend to watch my back. My mind wanders to the memory of a better time—or what I thought was a better time.
