Maya scoffs. “Okay, that’s enough of that, Ryan.”
She moves away to a different room. It feels damn good seeing her wearing my shirt while Donnelly’s jersey is still on the floor in my bedroom in Heston Lake, kicked into a corner.
“Nice shirt.” I waggle my brows.
Her eyes widen and she pinches the sides of the jacket in an attempt to hide what’s underneath. “What—? No, this is—I didn’t know this made it into my bag.”
“Yeah?”
Her tongue darts out to swipe across her lip. “I’ll give it back when I see you around campus.”
“Keep it. Looks way better on you.”
“I’ve been helping my parents get everything ready for dinner since I rolled out of bed this morning. I haven’t had time to get dressed.” Her cheeks turn pink. “I need to go change.”
“You slept in my shirt?”
Maya’s mouth pops open, the realization of what she implied dawning on her face.
“Yes.” She lifts her chin. “I like a big shirt to sleep in.”
Immediately, I’m picturing her sleepy and languid in my bed, wearing nothing but that shirt skimming her bare thighs. Fuck, that’s a nice thought.
“Mm, don’t tell me now, baby. Otherwise, I won’t be able to go anywhere.”
“Why?”
“I’m about to be stuck on the couch with the nearest pillow or blanket covering my lap because I’m imagining it.” My eyes hood at the way she reacts, her lashes fluttering and lips parting. “Now you’re definitely keeping it. You’ve claimed it, so it’s all yours.”
“Easton,” she blurts.
I like it when she gets flustered. It’s cute.
We’re interrupted by an older man she passes while she paces her house to talk to me. I recognize him from photos on her Instagram. He’s in an armchair with a walker next to it.
“There’s my chicken. What are you doing?”
There’s no question how much she loves him. She lights up at the nickname. He holds out an arm for her, smiling when she perches on the arm to hug him.
A pang echoes in my chest as I recall how she broke down crying in my arms because her grandfather is so important to her. I get it, I honestly do. Loss is a shock to the system and rocks the foundation of your entire world whether you’re able to prepare for it or not.
“Talking on FaceTime with a friend from school. This is Easton.” She angles the phone so he can see me better. “He plays hockey, too. Like Ryan. Easton, this is my grandpa.”
“Hi, sir. Nice to meet you,” I say.
He hums, studying me.
“Are you seeing my Maya?”
She jolts. We answer at the same time.
“Yes.”
“No, Grandpa.” When my answer registers, her eyes widen. “We’re friends.”
His gaze flicks between us. Although he has liver spots on his wrinkled skin and his eyes are milky with age, he sees right through it.
“You treat my girl right, you hear?”
