And somehow that doesn’t feel controlling. It feels like somebody believes I can actually get better.
It’s Shutout’s turn to be dislodged bymysudden movements. I scoop him out of the way and deposit him safely on the floor before wrapping my arms around Remy. She presses her mouth to mine, and she tastes so sweet that I groan into her mouth. Relief crashes through me so hard it almost hurts. She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me closer still. I shift my hold on her, urging her into my lap.
Remy ends up straddling my hips with her forehead pressed to mine. I hold her tight and breathe in her scent, reveling in her warmth. When I press my head to her chest, her heartbeat flutters against my skin.
“I thought you hated me.” Turns out my brain really likes preparing for emotional apocalypse. “I thought you’d never get over it.”
Remy laughs softly and runs her fingers through my hair. “Hate you? You tried to protect me. I don’t love how you chose to go about it, but Idolove where it comes from.”
The understanding in her voice loosens something inside me I didn’t realize I’d been bracing so hard to hold together.
I open my palms against her back as I unclench. “You do the same for me.” The word thrums in my ears in time to her breaths.Love. Love. Love.
“It’s hard for me to trust people,” Remy says. “But I trust you, Owen. I think we both have some work to do when it comes to being open. I’m good at putting up walls. Been doing it my whole life.”
“We’ll practice,” I tell her. “Both of us.”
I’m surprised that the thought of working on myself doesn’t feel like punishment. It feels like a door opening toward a brighter future.
Her fingers brush against the nape of my neck. The caress is so intimate, so sensual, that my body reacts on its own. Remy sucks in a breath and shifts her hips slightly, as if to pull away. “Sorry, but right now isn’t, um. I’m not there yet.”
“I know. We don’t have to do anything about it. I just like holding you?” I sit back and blow a few loose strands of copper hair out of my face. “Can I do that for a little while? Hold you? Would that be okay?”
The words come out quieter than I intended. Almost nervous.
Remy nods. She presses her lips to my forehead. “I’m tired of running, Owen.”
God, I know exactly how that feels.
I pull her against me, and she melts against me with a contented little sigh. “Then stay,” I offer.
The pressure in my chest finally starts to ease.
* * *
Noah’s text comes through around six.
Coach Abbott:Beer?
That’s it.
No explanation. No uncomfortable concern disguised as casual conversation. No “checking in on you, kid” energy.
Just beer.
Which somehow makes me trust the invitation more.
Puck Drop is crowded when I walk in half an hour later, the familiar mix of sports-bar noise and Italian food wrapping around me almost immediately. Hockey highlights roll across half the TVs while somebody in a Stone jersey screams at a basketball game in the corner.
Noah’s already there in a back booth with a beer in front of him. He lifts two fingers when he sees me with no sign of dramatic sympathy.
Thank God.
“You look like shit,” he says as I slide into the booth. “Good to know suspension hasn’t softened you.”
“Nope.”
He pushes the second beer toward me. “You sleeping?”
