When we broke apart, I settled back against his chest. Sleep was winning now, dragging me under despite my best efforts to stay awake.
“I love you,” he said softly.
Tears prickled in my eyes, but I held them back, not wanting him to think I was sad.
I kissed his chest instead. “We’ll tell him in a week.”
“Together.”
“Yup.”
I closed my eyes, letting sleep take me. The last thing I felt was his hand stroking through my hair, and the last thing I heard was his voice, so quiet I almost missed it.
“I love you so much.”
I wanted to stay awake and savor the weight of his arm around me and the rhythm of his breathing. Tomorrow we’d go back to stealing glances in hallways. We’d have to pretend we were just colleagues who happened to live across the street from each other.
But tonight, I could have this. Tonight, I could fall asleep in his bed and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“Tolrek?” I whispered.
“Mmm?”
“I’m glad you didn’t ignore me when I joined you in the corner.”
His laugh was soft, more breath than sound. “Best decision of my life.”
I smiled and let myself fall asleep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TOLREK
Three days. That’s how long I let myself believe this could work.
Every morning started the same. Beau’s cold nose on my ribs at five thirty, his impatient whine cutting through whatever dream I’d been having. I’d take him around the block while Haley stayed warm in my bed, and when I came back, she’d be in my kitchen making coffee in one of my t-shirts that hit her mid-thigh.
She’d started keeping clothes at my apartment. I’d cleared space in my closet without discussing it. These were the kind of decisions that should’ve required conversation, but we were already past talking about what this meant.
After breakfast, we’d leave for the rink separately. Her first, because analysts arrived before players. Me twenty minutes later.
At the facility, we kept it professional. She stayed in the press box or her office. I stayed on the ice or in the locker room. We didn’t seek each other out. When we passed in corridors, we’d nod and keep walking, playing colleagues so convincingly I almost believed it myself.
But I always knew where she was in the building. It was like tracking the net during a game, a type of peripheral awareness I couldn’t shut off even when I tried.
Practice sessions felt sharp. My reads were getting cleaner each day, my positioning instinctive. I hadn’t moved like this since before the injury. Jim noticed. The coaching staff noticed. The team definitely noticed.
Brashe skated out of the goal and around me after one particularly good sequence. “You’re playing like someone who’s getting laid regularly. I like it.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying, whatever’s working for you, keep doing it.”
I kept doing it.
Evenings were ours. We’d meet back at my apartment, both of us pretending we hadn’t been counting the hours until we could stop performing. Beau would lose his mind when Haley walked through the door, as if she’d been sent overseas instead of sitting in a press box forty feet above me.
We’d take him to the park once it got dark, walking close together, sometimes holding hands. Talking about this and that and everything in between. Getting to know each other better.
