Zach
The way I spentthe last two weeks with Finley complicates my feelings when I see Matt walk through the front door.
“Hey, jackass,” he greets, dropping enormous bags onto the floor like they weigh nothing. His mussed blond hair—I can’t help but notice it mirrors Finley’s shade—looks as it always does when he steps off the plane after a road trip. “What are you still doing up?”
Matt’s seen my odd sleeping patterns on the road, but many players struggle to sleep normal hours because of the constant travel.
“Making up for a lost week of gaming.” I sink deeper into the couch cushion and prop my socked feet on the coffee table. “I can only play hockey in video games.”
I pause the game and suck in a breath. I need to pretend Finley isn’t his sister. It’s what I’ve done for two weeks as I stared at her, flirted with her, followed her around like a damn puppy. Finley didn’t stop me. I’m trying not to let hope sink its clawsinto me, but every time she blushes at a comment I make, flirts back, or gives me her radiant smile, it becomes harder.
Matt plops down on the couch beside me. “How’s the noggin?”
“No red flags,” I parrot what the team doctor said. My head throbbing if I try to listen to music or getting hit with nausea if I stand up too quickly apparently causes no concern. It’s good news, of course, but I need the other symptoms to end so I can play hockey again.
The downside of recovery will be losing my reason to hang out with Finley, but I’ll invent another one. With my reputation, no one would bat an eye if Iaccidentallyburn my apartment down and need a place to stay.
Matt props his right leg over his left. “How long ’til you’re back?”
“Sometime in the next month, if I’m lucky.”
He places a hand on my shoulder. “Shit. Man, that sucks.”
“Yeah. You guys are on a heater. I wish I was playing.”
After finishing my screen ban, I watched highlights from all the games I missed, including Volk hooking off on Justin fucking Ward, which was highly satisfying. I’m flattered by the aggressiveness with which Volk whaled on Justin until blood streamed down his face and spattered the ice. It’s not only because of the hit. They’d been rivals for years, even before Volk dated Kennedy, Justin Ward’s ex.
“By the way, how’s Finley?”
The question drop-kicks my stomach. I peek at him for any sign he knows about us, but his face is relaxed. Why would he worry I crossed an unspoken line when I’mmeand she’sher?
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because you can make conversation with a wall. You’ve been living in the same house with her for two weeks, so unless she told you to fuck off”—he huffs a laugh—“which wouldn’t surprise me, I figured you’d be talking her ear off.”
I shift in my seat, sidestepping the implied question about how much I’ve been talking to his sister. “She’s fine, I think.”
I keep to myself my confusion about what happened between us during his wedding reception two years ago. I want to ask her, but I’m not prepared for the fallout. If she knows I still think about the night that was probably only a blip on her radar, it might freak her out enough to run the other way.
I like her too damn much for that to happen.
“That’s good,” Matt says with a nod. He picks up the controller, twirling it in the air. “Care for a game before I go to bed?”
I pick up my controller. “You’re fucking on.”
The doorbell rings as I’m stepping out of the shower. I hear voices as I rush back to my room, a towel slung around my waist. I’m here alone since Gemma’s at her new bakery and Finley went to class after practice this morning.
“Briggsy?" Matt croons from the floor below. “You’ve got gentleman callers!”
I roll my eyes and slam the door in response. I dress quickly, and when I reach the top step, Jennings comes into view at the bottom, leaning against the banister. He’s reading his phone so intently, he doesn’t immediately see me. His blond hair sticks out under his baseball cap.
He turns and flashes a broad smile, blue eyes gleaming. “You look better than the last time I saw you.” He holds out a hand for me to slap.
I smack it when I reach the bottom of the staircase. “I still looked better than you ever do, asshole.”
Jennings is a pretty boy, and it couldn’t be farther from the truth. The combination of smart and good-looking makes him popular with our female fans but he’s unfazed by it.
Jennings places his hand on my forearm. “Seriously, dude, that hit was nasty. You doing okay?”
