Nothing remotely flirty.
And somehow I’m grinning at my phone like a complete dumbass.
Because she saw me score.
“What?” King asks from the stall next from mine. “Finn send you nudes or something?”
I lock the screen and shove the phone back into my bag. “Jesus. No,” I mutter. “She was just letting me know something about Chloe.”
“About Chloe?” he asks dryly.
“Yeah.” I narrow my eyes. “About my daughter. Is that okay, King Bang?”
“Hmm.”
I shouldn’t ask. But I can’t help it. “Hmm what?”
“If it’s about Chloe, why are you smiling like that?”
“I’m not smiling like anything.”
He laughs. “Sure.”
“Let’s move it, yeah?” Coach calls, and I push to my feet, grabbing my helmet. But as I walk down the tunnel and back out to the rink, Iamgrinning.
Like an idiot.
But Finn texted.
Herself.
Not passing on a message from Chloe.
But one fromher.
She’s been so quiet the last couple of days. So reserved.
Not with Chloe.
With me, though, she’s been careful to keep her distance, going to bed early.
No winks or jokes or accidental brushes of our bodies.
No midnight baking.
I’ve been trying to wait her out, trying see if she’ll discuss the phone call Chrissy mentioned had upset her.
But she hasn’t brought it up—and I haven’t found the time to press her for details.
Or maybe the courage to.
She doesn’t owe me an explanation, not so long as she’s properly taking care of Chloe.
But…I want one, anyway.
The whistle trills and I exhale, blinking away thoughts of my confusing feelings about Finn, and focusing on the game.
It’s not an easy one, and even though we have the lead, we can’t just sit back and expect to hold it.
