I reach out for her hands. “Hey,” I say, looking down at the puck. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
I stare at the puck, remembering how my heart went boom in my fucking chest when she caught it.
“I thought I was going to die after I tossed it to you.”
“You did?”
I nod.
I walk my fingers up onto hers. The backs of her fingers are warm. She doesn’t pull away.
I gently take the puck.
“And you have no idea how happy it makes me that you have it in bed with you. What a lucky puck.”
She tries to hide her smile as I hand it back over to her. She takes it and smiles so shyly as she looks down at it. I’m not going to recover from this.
I admit, “I thought I fucked up by doing it.”
She shakes her head. “No, it was the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.”
Her eyes search mine, and I stare back, feeling my heart pound in my chest. It’s competing for the fucking Olympics in there. Fuck, I’m a goner for this girl.
She looks at the puck. “It means a lot.”
I grin. “Stanley said it’s a token of love.”
She nods. “It feels like it.”
“Yeah?”
She nods, holding on to it. “I –– I––”
I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t.
My shoulder pulls when I adjust on the bed.
“Fuck.”
I lie back. I adjust. The shoulder screams. I mutter, “Sorry.”
She touches my arm. The pads of her fingers are right above the bicep.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“You really don’t remember Halloween night?”
She shakes her head.
“Shit,” I mutter. The burning finally ends. “I told you about my injury that night.”
“You’re injured?” she asks sadly. Her voice goes up at the end, her hand goes a little tighter on my arm, her eyes get a little wider, and the worry in her face makes me feel things I do not have the bandwidth to feel right now, so I push them down, and I smile at the ceiling.
“It’s not that bad. I haven’t told anyone, so you can’t say anything.”
