The corners of my lips twitched into a smirk despite the throbbing in my skull. I loved the way she looked at me, and even more than that, I loved the way she smiled at me.
“Nothing,” I said to Bennett, too late.
Way too late because when I looked back at him, he was following my gaze up to the stands. Realization dawned acrosshis face, confusion, then recognition, then a grin that made me want to slam him into the boards.
“Oh shit.” He laughed. “Is that Harlow Cruz?”
“Shut up.”
“It is.” His grin widened as we skated toward center ice, the rest of the team resetting for the next drill. “Holy shit. Jax’s sister? Really?”
“I said shut up.”
“I’m not judging.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I mean, I’m definitely judging a little. But seriously though, are you fucking Jax’s little sister?”
“There’s nothing going on.”
“Uh huh. That’s why she’s wearing your hoodie, and you just ate shit because you were too busy staring at her to see Brandon coming at you.”
I shot him a look that should have frozen him solid. “Drop it.”
“Consider it dropped.” He paused. “For now.”
Coach Cooper’s whistle cut through our conversation. “Let’s go. Five-on-five scrimmage. Taylor, you’re center. Try not to skate into any more damn walls.”
A few snickers rippled through the team. I absorbed them with the dignity of a man who definitely hadn’t just been laid out because he was too horny to play hockey.
The puck dropped.
I focused, shutting out everything except the ice beneath my blades and the players moving around me. The familiar rhythm of the game took over, reading the defense, anticipating the pass, and finding the opening.
Don’t look at her.
I didn’t look at her. I was focused.
Stanley passed me the puck. I caught it clean, deked around Ryder’s pathetic attempt at a check, and pushed toward the goal. The defense collapsed around me, three players converging, andfor a split second, I saw it, the gap, tiny but there, just enough space to…
I wound up and fired.
The puck screamed off my stick, a blur of black rubber that sailed past the goalie’s glove and buried itself in the back of the net.
That’s more like it.
I allowed myself one glance toward the stands as I looped back to center ice. Harlow was on her feet, her book abandoned, her face split into a grin, and my chest did something embarrassing. She wasn’t cheering, but she was beaming, and somehow that was better.
I winked at her, and her cheeks flushed pink.
“Nice shot,” Bennett said, skating up beside me. “Very impressive. I’m sure Harlow thought so, too.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
He chuckled, and I tried to focus on the next play, but my mind kept drifting back to this morning. Not to the couch, though that was definitely taking up permanent residence in my memory, but to the phone call with Jax.
The conversation replayed in my head.
“Someone broke into the house?”Jax’s voice had been sharp with alarm.
“Not exactly,”I said, pacing my kitchen while Harlow watched me.“Turned out to be a cat. But she didn’t know that when she called me. She was terrified, man. Crying. Locked herself in the bathroom.”
