It’s a plastic screwdriver.
“Everything that I did was to protect Elliot,” she says, voice hoarse. “I tried. I failed. Please…tell Chase I’m sorry.”
I grip the drive and focus back on Roman. He’s chatting with another kid, plotting how to climb a tree, blissfully unaware of Laurel’s presence.
“Erin.”
I look back at her.
Laurel’s gaze flicks to Roman, then to me. “You can’t trust him.”
My brows pinch in confusion. “Who are you talking about?”
Her voice drops to a terrified whisper, and she says the one thing I least expect.
“The cop.”
The win should land betterthan it does.
Austin’s beating himself up for letting in those three goals during the third period. I tried to console him after the game. He just shook his head and muttered something about getting eliminated if he kept letting shit like this happen.
We’ll bounce back. We always do.
But right now, I want my girl. Preferably in my arms and in our bed.
When I get home, the living room is dim and the fire’s burning low. Erin’s curled up on the couch asleep, a book bent across her thumb and a highlighter on the floor. I crouch down and kiss her cheek. She stirs, blinks, and sits up, rubbing her eyes.
“That was a tough game,” she murmurs.
“It wasn’t our best.”
She picks up her highlighter and puts it back in her pencil case.
“How’s Austin? Pretty sure the camera caught him yelling at himself the entire third period.”
“He’ll be fine.” I stretch. “Let me shower, then we can order a pizza and watch a movie.”
“Pizza sounds perfect, but now that you’re back from your away series, we need to talk. There’s something I need to tell you.”
I tilt my head. “You finally gonna tell me what’s been eating at you these last few days?”
She stiffens. “How did you know?”
“You’re my favorite book, baby. I know you cover to cover. I know what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, what you want to say, what you’re not saying, what you need, what you crave. I know everything about you.” I shrug, smirking.
She crosses her arms, chin raised. “Oh, yeah? Then tell me—what am I thinking right now?”
“That joining me in the shower is a fantastic idea,” I answer immediately. “But you won’t do it because you know once I get you in there, you won’t come out for hours, and then you’ll be too tired to finish your book. And you hate leaving a book unfinished.”
Her mouth drops open, but she doesn’t deny a thing.
“Smartass.”
I grin but it falters when she reaches for her pajama top buttons. At a deliberate pace, one by one, she undoes them.
Fuck, she’s not wearing anything underneath.
My brain short-circuits.
