A soft rumble sounds from his chest. “Be careful now. Words have power.” Heat caresses my stomach.
“I um, I’m... let me go get you ice. You need ice.”
Grey smirks. “Look at you, Mr. Caregiver.”
I laugh. “I still have a job to do. I am taking this seriously, I want you to know that, even if the reasons I’m here are selfish.”
Grey’s blond brows furrow. “You are not selfish.” He grabs my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. Safe.” He lets go, and I want so badly to slip my hand back into his.
“I’ll go get your ice pack.”
“Can you also grab my phone? For the camera. The doors are already locked.”
“Of course.” I get up and find his phone on the kitchen table and grab mine while I’m at it. I know he already told me they’re locked, but I check anyway for my own peace of mind.
As I grab his ice pack, both our phones ping with camera app notifications. Ice sloshes down my spine. It’s nearly eight now. I grab my phone, swiping up.
Nothing is there.
It becomes too thick to breathe here in the kitchen. I feel like eyes are on me even though the curtains are closed, and I rush back down the hall. I know Grey has a great security system. I know this house is locked up tight. Still, something feels off.
I quickly change into pajamas before I go back into his room. When I walk in, Grey has the remote and is clickingthrough channels. He stops on a hockey game. “Oli and Andre’s?”
“Oh, no,” he says, as I hand him the ice pack so he can place it how he wants. “It’s the Utah Yetis versus the New York Hawks.” His gaze doesn’t leave the screen. “It’s almost playoff season and teams are now fighting to qualify.” Grey beams. “My guys are already on the ticket.”
“Here, I grabbed your medicine for the nausea and a sports drink. Take this too, for the swelling.” He thanks me, his eyes briefly leaving the screen. “Oh, and um, the camera app went off. Nothing was there, though.” I try to play it casually but fail. He must see it in my face.
He takes his phone from my hand gently, with a frown, and plays it back, his face relaxing. “Sometimes small animals trigger the alarm. It happens. No one’s there. I have trail cams out back. I like to look at the deer when they cross into my back yard. The occasional Elk and momma bear and cubs. Everything’s okay.” He squeezes my hand before his eyes go back to the TV.
“If um, you need anything, just text me.”
He frowns as I get up. “Aren’t you going to stay and watch the game with me?” He sounds so vulnerable.
“I’ve never watched hockey before.” I look at the chaotic screen. Players are skating faster than I can fathom, and there are numbers in the top right corner. Banners. People are talking fast. How can they even keep track of the puck? I can’t make sense of any of it.
Grey pats the space next to him. “Only if you want to. No pressure, okay? I um... I like your company.”
I can’t help the smile that slips onto my lips. “Can you explain it to me?” He smiles, pulling the blanket out for me to slip in beside him. I do. It’s not like last night. Last night I was too afraid to enjoy it. This feels different. I sit against the propped-up pillows on my side. “Everyone is moving so fast.”
“That box in the top left corner tells you the score. The Yetis are at the top. They’re winning five to four. Yetis are the white with ice-blue-trimmed jerseys; the Hawks are black and gold. See that timer next to it?” I nod. “There’s seventeen minutes left in the third period.”
“How many periods are there?”
“Three.”
“So, the game’s almost over?”
“Not quite. They still have about half an hour, forty minutes roughly.”
“But it says seventeen minutes.” As I say this the whistle blows.
“Offside call. They stop a lot. That one was for an offside.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s when a player crosses that blue line in the center before the puck gets into the opponent’s zone. The puck has to cross it first. It’s annoying, but it prevents your opponent just hanging out in your D zone.”
I watch them all reset. It’s fascinating. “They move so fast. I can’t imagine being down there. It seems chaotic.”
