“You don’t have to do this alone. I can come with you.”
“You have class.”
“I’ll skip.”
“Zeff—”
“Tiger, I’m coming with you. End of discussion.”
She looks at me for a long moment. Then she nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
We drink our coffee in comfortable silence. She’s wearing one of Jax’s shirts again. It’s so big on her that it falls past her shorts, making it look like she’s not wearing anything underneath.
I force myself to look away.
“What do you want to do until then?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Something to distract me.”
“We could watch a movie.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t sit still right now. I feel really anxious.”
“What do you want to do then?”
She thinks for a moment. “Tell me about hockey.”
That throws me off. “What about it?”
“Everything. I don’t really understand it. Teach me.”
“Teach you hockey?”
“Yeah.” She nods, like she’s desperate to get out of her own head. Her voice isn’t as raspy today. She’s making good progress lately. She cut back on her medication too.
I grin. “Okay. Come on.”
We head to the garage. I grab two sticks and a practice ball from the corner. I hand her one of the sticks.
“This is a right-handed stick,” I explain. “Your right hand goes at the top, left hand lower on the shaft.”
She tries to hold it and winces when she moves her injured arm wrong.
“Here.” I step behind her. I guide her good hand to the stick. “Like this. And I’ll be your right arm.”
I reach around and place my hand below hers. She’s pressed back against my chest. I can smell her shampoo.
“Okay, so the basic grip is like this,” I say, adjusting our hands. “You want control but not tension.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah. Good.”
I place the ball on the ground in front of us. “Now we’re going to practice moving the puck. Just back and forth. Feel how the stick moves.”
I guide her through the motion. My body pressed against hers. Her back against my chest. Her ass against my dick. My arms wrapped around her, showing her how to move.
She laughs when the ball rolls away. “This is harder than it looks.”
