My gaze flicks to him, and I roll my eyes when I see him smirking.
“I’m just saying it’s hard for me to even wrap my head around the fact that you’re famous. I don’t keep up with sports, or tabloids, or anything like that, so it’s just hard to believe you’re a celebrity.”
Wilder shakes his head. “Not a celebrity. Just a guy who…usedto play hockey.”
I can feel the shift in his demeanor. His jaw tightens, and his eyes turn distant, heavy.
“Are… Is everything okay?” I ask before I lose the courage. I don’t want him to feel like I’m prying or trying to be nosy about his life. But I can’t not ask.
After a long pause, he says, “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur, suddenly extremely interested in the Mongolian beef in the box, pushing it around with my chopsticks. “It’s just, when you got here, it looked like you were fighting something… and losing? That probably doesn’t even make sense. It just seems like something is off, that’s all.”
God, I feel so stupid right now.
I’m not even sure if I should be asking him things like this. If he’s okay, or asking him about his life before he came back home.
Do people who hook up do that?
It’s all new to me, and I’m probably overthinking it, but it feels like I’m feeling around in the dark and have no clue what I’m supposed to say or do in this… situation.
“I’m good. It’s just been… a really long fucking day,” he finally says, the words tight, punctuated with something I can’t quite place. When he looks over at me, I see his eyes are dark… like burnt amber, flickering with something raw.
It feels like the most vulnerable he’s ever been with me, even if the only thing he’s said is with that look. His eyes carry something that I might not ever fully know or understand.
I set the takeout box onto the coffee table in front of me and crawl into his lap, refusing to overthink if this is what he even wants.
Maybe it’s just what heneeds.
Because I know he’d never ask for it.
“Then let me help you take your mind off of it,Coach,” I say, my voice lowering to a whisper, bringing my hand to his face and brushing my fingers along his jaw.
His eyes fall shut at the touch, and my heart twists. It lurches, tearing inside my chest at the notion that my touch… that it’s enough to calm whatever storm is raging inside of him.
It makes me feel important, even if it’s just physical.
“Tell me what I can do.”
Silence hangs between us, the air thick with unspoken emotion.
Until he opens his eyes and his hands find my hips, sliding up my back to pull me even closer, pressing my front against his, our lips inches away, a breath away.
And that tortured look in the depths of his eyes is replaced by a fire. When it’s just started to burn, the flames flicker, low and steady.
“This,” he murmurs, and I nod, my breath stuttering against his lips as they ghost along mine. “Just… this.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
WILDER
The words don’t feellike my own as they stumble out of my mouth.
But they’re the truth.
She has no fucking clue thatthis?
