Yeah.
Makes sense.
This game is all but over at this point and there’s nothing to be gained by pulling me out. I stand and watch as the seconds tick down, the play contained to the other end of the ice. The opposing goalie is having one hell of a time out there, Tucker’sline throwing everything they possibly can at him in the waning moments of the game.
A few seconds before the night officially ends, I let my eyes drift over to what they want to be looking at more than the shitty scoreboard. Shiloh stands among the crowd, his black and green curls glimmering in the bright overhead lights like a spotlight’s been cast directly onto him. Instead of watching what’s happening at the other end of the ice like everyone else around him is, he’s looking right at me like he can’t help himself either. His head tilts to the side like he’s considering something, his eyes unblinking as he scans my entire body from the bottom of my skates to the helmet on my head. His nose wrinkles slightly as he meets my face again, and my stomach drops slightly when I see disgust written into his features, but I get it.
As the final buzzer goes off, I glance at the scoreboard before looking back to him, my failure on display in numbers that make my blood boil and my own stomach swoop in disgust.
Yeah, I definitely get it.
Snow crunches beneath my feet as I walk through the quiet parking lot, the cool air sinking into my skin through the jacket I wear. Every breath I exhale lingers in the air in front of my face, and I don’t think I’m heading out to wander in the moonlight and unpack my shitty vibes from the game tonight.
Maybe I’ll drive around until I find a spot where the city lights don’t drown out the stars overhead and sit in the warmth of my Jeep instead.
I hope Shiloh got home safe tonight. If I’d been thinking properly when I had him in front of me, I’d have invited him outafter the game or something. I’m probably not great company, though, so perhaps it’s for the best if I’m just alone with my thoughts tonight.
Two losses in a row.
There’s no way I’m playing the next game and that sucks. Gilly and I have shared the net pretty equally this season so far, but two losses in a row have me thinking I’m about to be relegated to a true backup spot. Coach needs a goalie who’s on fire and I’m barely smoldering.
With a sigh, I pluck my keys out of my pocket and click the button that unlocks the doors. The Jeep lights flash in the darkness, but for some reason the interior light comes on like someone’s opened a door. I stop walking as the light flicks out again, but not before it illuminates a figure in the passenger seat for a split second.
“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself, taking a step closer as I peer across the lot into the darkened driver’s side window. I can’t make out anything really, but I’m sure someone’s in there. I glance over at the security door, wondering if I should go back inside and grab one of the officers, but as I’m thinking about it, the driver’s door pops open.
“Get inside,” Shiloh hisses, sprawled across the seat from the passenger side.
“Christ,” I laugh as I rush to the open door. “You scared the shit outta me.”
He doesn’t respond as he sits back up on the seat, leaving me space to hop into the vehicle. I quickly start the engine, turning the heat all the way up even though it’s just blowing cold at the moment. The Jeep has a great heater, but it takes a while to get going. Another reason I gotta get off my ass before winter really hits hard and get a remote starter installed.
Shiloh reaches his hands out and places them on the vents, frowning as the cold air pushes out against his skin. He grumblessoftly under his breath, his curls falling over his forehead as he makes a turtle-like move to cram his head down into the neck of the sweater.
“Here,” I murmur, reaching out for his cold hands. He pulls back slightly, turning his head up to stare at me with confused eyes. I gently take his frozen fingers in mine, wrapping his smaller hands in my huge palms. Slowly, I raise his hands to my mouth and part my fingers to blow my heated breath onto the ice blocks that are his chilled fingers.
He’s as still as a statue, eyes wide as saucers as he watches me. I can feel a slight twitch in his hands, like he’d love to yank out of my grasp, but I hold him there cradled in my warmth.
And he lets me.
I keep holding him there longer than I really should, wondering at the way his bare hands feel against my own skin. It’s been a while since I’ve had skin-to-skin contact with someone who wasn’t a member of the training staff or the team, and I hadn’t realized until now how much I’ve missed a simple touch.
A gentle hold.
Fucking hell, it’s just some damn hands in mine and I’m losing it over here. What a messed up night this has been.
“Better?” I whisper, before blowing another hot breath onto his hands.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding his head slightly.
The heat finally filters through the vents in the Jeep, and though I don’t want to stop touching him, I do. Shiloh stares at me for a moment before turning away to press his hands against the vents again, the rest of him shivering in the passenger seat. I’m struck with the strange notion that I want to scoop him onto my lap and hold him close, soothe away the cold with the warmth of my body. I get the feeling that would be too much, though, going by the way he barely let me warm his hands.
“You should have gloves,” I comment instead, sitting back in my own seat. “And a toque.”
“What the hell is a toque?”
I roll my eyes. “Knit cap for winter time. A knitted beanie. Whatever you call it here. It’s a fucking toque. You should get one.” He nods but doesn’t offer any words, so I just keep talking. “What are you still doing here? The game ended hours ago. How long have you been outside?”
“A while,” he says. “I wanted to wait for you inside, but security kicked me out and I didn’t have your ID to prove I know you this time.”
