They’re watching her the way they were this morning, like they’re trying to piece together something that doesn’t add up.
After the way they’d been on me earlier, I don’t need them to say it out loud.
None of it makes sense.
But I’m already too caught up in her to stop now.
Chapter Six
Brinley
The hockey house is impossible to miss with the number of people spilling onto the lawn, cars lining the street, and bass thumping from inside.
We barely make it through the front door before we’re nearly swallowed whole. This place is packed shoulder to shoulder. The air smells like sweat and beer, and I’m starting to think the shower was unnecessary.
I stick close to Sasha, grateful for her easy confidence as she guides us through the crowd.
I recognize some of the players from last night at Broken Saddle. Others I don’t remember seeing there, but I know them from the Rixton roster while researching my father.
It’s like I can feel Cooper without even looking in his direction. My pulse picks up, but I keep walking, pretending I don’t see him as the energy in the room shifts.
“Hey.”
I turn, my heart jumping in my throat.
Cooper stands a few feet away with his hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. He looks freshly showered, his hair still damp, with a Rixton Wolves T-shirt on.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
“You’re Brinley, right?” he asks, voice low enough I have to lean in just slightly to hear him. Like he doesn’t already know.
I nod. “Yeah.”
A beat passes. His eyes don’t leave mine.
“I’m Cooper.”
“I know.”
The corner of his mouth curves in a small smile. Sasha clocks him immediately.
“Ohhkay,” she says lightly, already stepping back. “I’m gonna grab us drinks. I’ll let you two… yeah. I’ll be right back.”
Before I can protest, she disappears into the crowd, leaving me standing there with nowhere to hide.
“I saw you watching our practice today,” Cooper says.
I try to ignore the way my stomach dips.
“You did, huh?” I say, forcing a laugh that sounds wrong even to my ears.
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Up in the stands.”
My pulse stutters.
“I was just—” I start, then stop, already tangled in the explanation. I change course. “I wanted to thank you. For the other night. At the bar.”
His brows draw together slightly. “That’s why you stopped by?”
