He looks good.
Which is deeply unfair.
No one should look that good before sunrise, especially not after a night that involved sex, trauma, my giant ugly marble sculpture, emotional devastation, and a make-out session that almost made me reconsider several moral positions.
Cade glances toward the bed and catches me watching him.
Of course he does.
“You awake?” he asks quietly.
“No,” I whisper.
His mouth twitches. “Convincing.”
“I’m sleep-talking.”
“You sleep-talk sarcasm?”
“It’s my first language.”
He crosses back to the bed, and my heart does something stupid when he sits on the edge beside me like he belongs there. Like my room is already part of his routine. Like he has every right to be here before practice, smelling like soap and laundry detergent and whatever dangerous hormone hockey captains emit when they are awake too early and emotionally unavailable to the general public.
I hate him a little for it.
Or I would, if he didn’t look at me like that.
His hand slides over the blanket to my hip, warm and heavy through the fabric, and his eyes move over my face with the kind of attention that always makes me want to throw something at him and crawl closer at the same time.
“You have practice?” I ask, even though I already know.
“Six.”
“That’s illegal.”
“It’s hockey.”
“Same thing.”
His thumb moves once against my hip. “I’m talking to the boys after.”
The words settle between us, quiet but not heavy. Not like last night. Not like the marble in his hand or the way his breathing broke against my hair while he held me on the couch. This is different. This is morning planning. This is logistics. This is Cade waking up in my bed after hearing the worst parts of me and acting like the next step is already obvious.
He is not running. He is scheduling and somehow that feels more dangerous.
I blink up at him. “The emotional support hockey players?”
“I told you I’m denying that in court.”
“Too late. It’s canon.”
“Briggs can never know you called them that.”
“Briggs is absolutely going to make shirts.”
“He will not survive making shirts.”
“You’re very threatening before sunrise.”
