“I can’t,” she replies, her voice so steady it’s almost impressive. “Game reports.”
“Lame.” Logan grins, utterly oblivious. “Zay?”
“Gotta FaceTime Maze before bedtime.”
“Double lame. You guys are no fun.” He starts walking backward toward the exit. “Banks! Wait up!”
And then he’s gone, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving us alone again.
Except we’re not really alone. Anyone could walk out at any moment. This whole building is crawling with people.
Tori exhales slowly. “That was—”
“Close,” I finish.
She nods, not quite meeting my eyes. “I should go.”
“Yeah.” I shove my hands in my pockets to avoid doing something stupid like reaching for her. “Yeah, okay.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m left standing in an empty hallway, heart pounding, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to sleep tonight.
22
ROOM 421
Zayden
It’s eleven-thirty, and I’m lying in my hotel bed, staring at the ceiling like it has all the answers. The FaceTime with Maisie was a nice distraction—she showed me a drawing she made of us at the park, filled with stick figures and purple crayon. It stirred that familiar ache in my chest that comes from loving someone so much it physically hurts.
But now she’s asleep, and Hannah sent me a thumbs-up emoji. I’ve got nothing to do except think about the woman three doors down.
I shouldn’t go.
I know I shouldn’t go, but the team is out celebrating and likely won’t be back anytime soon. I get up and pull on my shoes.
The hallway is empty. Most of the team is still out, and the coaching staff is on a different floor. I count the doors like I don’t have her room number memorized—like I haven’t walked past it four times today, finding excuses.
I knock before I can talk myself out of it.
There’s shuffling inside, followed by the click of the lock. When the door opens, Tori stands there in leggings and a tanktop that’s just thin enough to make my mouth go dry, her hair twisted up in a claw clip, face freshly washed.
Her eyes widen. “Zayden. What are you—”
“I know I should give you space.” I step closer, and she instinctively backs up, allowing me into her room. The door swings shut behind me. “I know the rules. I know what’s at stake. But I can’t do this anymore.”
I move closer. She doesn’t back away. “I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep. I played a whole hockey game tonight, and half my brain was on you in the stands.”
“You scored twice.”
“Imagine what I could do if I wasn’t distracted.”
She almost smiles. Almost.
“You’re driving me crazy.” My hands find her hips before I can stop them, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her leggings, pulling her closer. She sucks in a breath.
“Zayden...” Her voice is barely a whisper, but she’s not pulling away.
“Tell me you don’t feel this.” My voice comes out rough. “Tell me it’s one-sided, that I’m imagining things, and I’ll leave right now. I’ll go back to my room and pretend this never happened.”
