“Why?”
“Because you invited me into your world, and I wanted to see more of it.”
“Well,” he said finally, voice rough around the edges. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”
June and Luca eventually cleared out, leaving me and Soren alone in the dressing room with the door propped open and the muffled sound of the bar's house music filtering in from the main floor. He was sitting on the arm of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him, and I was leaning against the wall trying to figure out how to start the conversation I'd been thinking about since the game ended.
“So, what do you do when you're not being terrifyingly competent at sports?” Soren asked breaking the silence.
I laughed despite myself. “I'm not terrifying.”
“You absolutely are. You have resting captain face. It's intimidating as hell.”
“Resting captain face,” I repeated slowly. “That's not a real thing.”
“It's extremely real. You do this—” He made an expression that was probably supposed to be me but mostly just looked constipated. “—and everyone immediately knows you're in charge and they should probably listen.”
“I don't look like that.”
“You do. It's part of your charm.” He stretched his arms over his head, and I tried very hard not to watch the way his shirt rode up to show a strip of tattooed skin above his jeans. “But seriously, what do you do for fun? Please tell me you have hobbies that aren't hockey-related.”
“I run sometimes. Hit the gym. Read when I have time.”
“What do you read?”
“Thrillers, mostly. Some sci-fi. Whatever I can finish on flights.”
“Never pegged you for a sci-fi guy.”
“There's a lot you don't know about me anymore,” I said, and the truth of it sat heavy between us.
“Well, we should fix that.” He slid off the arm of the couch and onto the actual cushions, patting the spot next to him ininvitation. “Come on. Sit. Tell me about the Rowan Kincaid I missed.”
I pushed off the wall and crossed the small space, dropping onto the couch close enough that our knees almost touched.
“Not much to tell,” I said. “Played college hockey, got drafted, worked my way up through the system. Made captain three years ago. It's been pretty straightforward.”
“Relationships?”
The question caught me off guard. “What about them?”
“You dated anyone seriously? Or are you married to hockey like Coach is married to the game?”
“Coach is practically married to Jace at this point all he needed was to propose,” I corrected automatically.
“You know what I mean.” He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read, and I had the distinct feeling that my answer mattered more than he was letting on.
“I've dated. Nothing that stuck long-term. Most people don't really get the lifestyle, and I'm not great at making time for relationships during the season.”
“Women, I'm guessing?”
“Yeah.” The word came out a little too defensive, and I saw the way his eyebrows raised slightly. “I mean, yeah. Women.”
“Okay.” He said it easily, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes that made me want to explain myself better except I didn't know how.
“What about you?” I asked, redirecting before he could dig deeper into territory I wasn't ready to navigate. “You seeing anyone?”
“Nah. I'm terrible at relationships.” He said it lightly, but there was an edge underneath that suggested he meant it. “I hook up sometimes, but nothing serious. Easier that way.”
