My heart slams against my ribcage.
I don't think I'm prepared for this man. Not even a little bit.
I almost invite him in. I almost tell him that I don't need perfection. Instead, I just gape at him, speechless.
He dips his head to brush his lips against mine. "Get inside, babe."
I fumble with my keys and then stumble inside on wooden legs without a word. My last sight of him is those wild green eyes boring into mine as he braces his arms on the doorframe like he's physically keeping himself from launching over the threshold after me.
"Goodnight, Royce."
"Sweet dreams, pretty baby."
I close the door, my heart beating like I just ran a race. It's only after I'm sinking down the door that I remember he's flying out in the morning for a game in Chicago, and I don't know whenI'll see him again. And it's in that moment that I realize I miss him already.
"Goddamn childhood games," I groan before laughing like a wild woman.
Chapter Six
Royce
Ithink I'm in love. Is that possible after a single date? Maybe. Or maybe I was falling before I ever set foot into her office yesterday. I don't fucking know. All I know for sure is that getting on that plane this morning was a bitch. I didn't want to fly half a continent away from her.
"Elliot!" Coach shouts, his hard voice cracking across the ice like thunder. "Get your head out of your ass."
Shit.
I glance up in time to see Kingston Monroe barreling toward me with his stick back, ready to take a shot on the goal. As soon as his stick makes contact with the puck, I dive for it. It's embarrassing how far away I am when it slams into the back of the net.
"Jesus." Kingston slides to a stop, sending a spray of ice across me. "You even on the ice with us today, motherfucker?"
"Eat a dick, Monroe," I grunt, slapping my hand down over the puck to stop it. "I was thinking."
"Did it hurt?"
I shoot my teammate a dirty glare, which makes him chuckle. He holds a hand out to me, helping me back to my feet.
"Seriously, man. You good?"
"Yeah, fine." I drop the puck into his outstretched hand. "Just got some shit on my mind."
Kingston glances toward Coach, who is glowering at me like he's contemplating marching over here to hand me my own ass. "Better work it out before the game tomorrow," he murmurs. "We need this win, or Coach may kill us all."
"No kidding." We're inching toward the Playoffs. We need the win to give us a little breathing room. But the game is the last thing on my mind right now. I glance at Kingston, contemplating. He's all coupled up and in love. It's been all over the fucking news since he fell for his girl. "Question."
"Answer," he smirks.
"How'd you know you were in love with Evie?"
He slow-blinks at me.
"It's just a question."
"Uh-huh." His shit-eating grin gets on my damn nerves. "And hockey is just a sport. You think you're in love or something?"
"Maybe." I shrug. "Answer the question."
To his credit, he doesn't give me shit this time. He genuinely contemplates his answers. "I guess I knew something was up when I decided to start writing her fucking letters," he says, chuckling. "But I was sure of it when I went to her show."
