I shut the truck off before I have to hear another second of it.
I glare at the windshield. “I’m never speaking again,” I mutter to myself.
My jaw tightens.
Because I meant what I said, even though I shouldn’t have said it.
I exhale. I can’t have her. No matter how much I want her.
I scrub my hands over my face, replaying her words when we had coffee together this morning.
“I liked hearing you say it.” Her cheeks were pink as she repeated my words. “She’s with me.”
My entire brain short-circuited.
I just blinked at her, shocked and a little feral from her confession. It almost made me do something I’d regret later, like carry her to my loft, undress her slowly, and sink inside her until everything disappeared except her and me.
Before I can spiral further, movement catches my eye near the arena entrance. Connor points at me, a huge smile on his face.
“Oh no,” I mutter. “He’s starting already.”
Connor cups his hands around his mouth dramatically. “COME ON, LOVERBOY. QUIT LUSTING OVER YOUR GIRLFRIEND AND GET INSIDE.”
My soul leaves my body.
Jake appears beside him. “HE’S PROBABLY STALKING HER SOCIAL MEDIA AS WE SPEAK.”
“I’m not?—”
Connor points aggressively. “HE’S DENYING IT LESS NOW!”
Cole nearly folds in half laughing.
Ford walks up, carrying his coffee. “Can you idiots maybe wait until he actually gets out of the vehicle before acting feral?”
“No,” Connor answers.
I grab my hockey bag from the backseat, already knowing it’s going to be a long day.
Training camp smellslike sharpened skates, fresh ice, sweat, and impending psychological damage.
The second I step into the locker room, chaos erupts. Jake has an amused smile on his face, eyes twinkling with devilish delight, which is never good.
I head to my locker and see the nameplate taped over my name. It says“Peyton’s Husband”on it.
I glare at Jake, who is now doubled over laughing. I yank it off and throw it on the floor. “So funny.”
Cole smirks from beside him. “I’m amused.”
I roll my eyes and grab my stick, trying to swat Jake with it.
When I turn back around, Connor is taping the nameplate back on my locker.
“Give me that.” I snatch it from his hand, open my locker, and toss it inside.
Connor slams his hand against a locker. “I thought it was clever.”
Jake points at me. “The goalie is a protective boyfriend!” He gyrates his hips. “Who would’ve thought you had it in you, Mr. Stoic?”
