“Post-game meeting.” I nod my head in the direction of the locker room. “I gotta go.”
“Right.” She smooths her skirt down. “I’ll see you later then.”
I’m dying to lean in and kiss her, right here in the tunnel.
Control.
No fucking way.
“Yeah. Later.”
Before I do anything reckless, I tip my chin at her and duck into the locker room to shower and change.
The locker room’s loud and rowdy, alive with the charged energy of a win. I hit the showers and wash off the sweat, the warm water kneading my tight muscles.
I towel off and throw on my post-game uniform sweats, still amped.
“Great game tonight, bro.” Weston slugs me in the biceps. “Thanks for the assist. Number twenty-two was a real asshat.”
“No prob. I wasn’t letting that guy get the best of us.”
Callum slides up, crashing down onto the bench. “Dude, it’s like you’re evolving or something.” His lips tip into a smirk and I resist the urge to pummel him.
“Fuck off, Goalie Boy.”
He shrugs. “Just sayin’. Probation must have really worked. Or maybe it was something — or someone — else?” He arches a brow at me, then flicks his eyes to Weston. Like they’ve been talking about this.
“Like I said — fuck off.”
Coach Keller flashes the locker room lights, interrupting the grilling. I’m safe — for now.
“Good win, boys. Two points. We close it out like that every night. Steele — welcome back. Good goal. Stayedunder control.” He pins his eyes on me from across the bench. “Keep it that way.”
I nod, my chest tight. Like I’m in a pressure cooker or something.
“Don’t party too hard tonight. Early practice tomorrow.” Coach drops his warning, then leaves as the volume picks up again.
“You coming out?” Callum adjusts his ball cap, picks up his duffel. “Now that you’re out of jail, figure you’re itching to party.”
Weston and Callum both stare at me, waiting.
But the image of Tori pops into my head. Cheeks flushed, those dark red lips begging to be kissed.
I shrug. “Nah. Prince and Coach are still keeping tabs on me. I’m gonna keep it tight for a minute or two. Don’t want them to have anything on me.”
Weston arches a brow high but doesn’t comment. Callum shoves a hand into his hoodie pocket.
“Suit yourself.” He and Weston take off and I grab my bag, heading to the employee parking garage.
Most of the lot’s empty, the arena staff cleared out for the night. Car doors bang shut as my teammates take off for food and beers to celebrate the win. I unlock my Bronco and toss my bag into the back.
“Hey.” Tori’s voice is quiet, echoing off the pavement. I wheel around to face her, my palm resting on the open door.
“Hey. Thought you’d be gone by now.”
She closes the distance between us, her heels clicking softly in the vacant garage. There’s only one other vehicle in the area and it’s hers.
“I had some business to take care of.”
