I'm halfway to the kitchen, already planning how I'm going to spend the rest of my day pretending I don't care that she's gone, when I hear humming.
I immediately freeze and listen for the sound again.
Then, I hear it. The soft, slightly off key humming is coming from my kitchen. It's cheerful and completely at odds with how I've felt since I woke up a few minutes ago.
I round the corner and come to a dead stop.
Gianna is standing at my counter wearing nothing but the t-shirt I wore to the bar last night. It's huge on her, the hemlanding at the middle of her thighs. Her hair is a long mess of tangled and wild curls.
She has the refrigerator open as she pulls out cheese and grapes and what looks like the leftover pizza I ordered two days ago.
She hasn't noticed me yet, so I lean against the door frame and admire the view. She's too busy humming and arranging food on a plate, looking completely comfortable in my space like she belongs here.
Something in my chest tightens, and I can't silently spectate anymore.
“You're still here,” I say.
Gianna gasps, spinning around with wide eyes and a hand to her chest. When she sees me, her face breaks into that smile that I've grown to enjoy. The one that screams mischief and trouble.
“You're awake.” She holds up the plate she was just preparing. “I put together some snacks for us. Well, I assembled snacks I found in your kitchen. I'm not much of a cook, but I figured we burned enough calories that we earned some carbs. I hope that's okay.”
I lean back against the doorframe, trying to process this. “I thought you left.”
“Why would I leave?” She sets the plate down and hops up onto the counter, her bare legs swinging. “We weren't finished yet. Unless you don't want me to stay.”
“Gianna…” my words trail off, unsure of what to say. Do I want her to leave? No. Do I think she should stay with me? Also, no.
“Plus, you have really good cheese. Like, really fancy cheese. I didn't know hockey players ate fancy cheeses like these.” She pops a grape in her mouth. “Come eat with me.”
I should tell her to leave. I should put distance between us before this gets any messier than it already is. After the thingsI said in the moment while we were fucking, she must be incredibly confused.
Instead, I walk over and stand between her legs, my hands settling on her thighs.
“You're wearing my shirt,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.
“You're very observant,” she teases. “It's more comfortable than my dress, and it smells like you.”
“You can't just… We can't…” I stop, attempting to gather my thoughts before I continue. “You can't just make yourself at home here.”
“Why not?” She tilts her head, studying me. “You brought me here. You fucked me in front of your fireplace. You told me you've wanted me for months. I think that earns me snack privileges.”
She has a point, but she also has no idea what I'm actually trying to say. I suck at this, and this is why Sage is the only woman I've dated in damn near a decade.
Then it hits me. Ten years ago, Gianna was twelve. She was in middle school, and I was already a decade into my NHL career. Fuck, I really am a dirty old man.
I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “This can't be a thing, Gianna.”
“A thing?” She raises an eyebrow. “What kind of thing? What are you talking about?”
“This can't be any kind of relationship. Whatever you're thinking this is, it can't be that.”
She picks up a piece of cheese, examining it like it's the most interesting thing in the world, intentionally avoiding making eye contact with me. “Why can't it be a thing? Why can't we be something?”
“Because you're twenty-two.”
“Actually, I'm twenty-two and a half.”
“That doesn't help your case.” I step back, needing to put space between us to think clearly. “You're in college. You're about to graduate and start your life. I'm-”
