“Are you really sleeping with the puck?”
She nods.
“Forever.”
Chapter 17
Melly
Abuzzingsoundpullsme from my sleep. A warm arm is around my waist, and a hard body is firm against my back. My heart leaps when I realize that Blue’s still in my bed and we somehow ended up cuddling. I turn my head, and right at my cheek, I bump into the puck.
His phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s loud.
I gently rub his arm. “Blue?”
He stirs, removing his arm. I look at him, and his eyes open slightly. They find my face, and they do the small, slow blink of a man who is not, for half a second, sure where he is. Then he is. His face does the smallest possible thing — a small soft settlingin the muscles around his mouth. The line between his eyebrows doesn’t go away. But his body relaxes, and my heart’s dancing in my chest at the sight of him in the early morning light.
He says, hoarse from sleep, “Hi, Melly.”
“Hi, Blue.”
His phone vibrates again. He groans, rolls onto his back, and reaches for the phone on the nightstand. He squints at the screen. He swears, very quietly.
“Fuck. It’s Benson.”
He sits up. I see him stretch out his shoulder when he answers.
I hear only his half of the conversation.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“Yeah, I’m — yeah.”
A pause.
“I know.”
A pause.
“I know, cap.”
A longer pause. I can hear, faintly, the tinny shape of Benson’s voice through the phone.
“Yeah.”
“I will.”
“Yeah, ten.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Yeah.”
“I gotta go.”
“Yeah. I know.”
