Lane nods. “Yes. I was an asshole. That’s why I’m here with coffee.”
I sip my latte, the warmth a perfect contrast to the cool fall air. Looking at the writing on my to-go cup, realization surrounds me: Freddy never did this. He never knew what I liked to drink or went out of his way to learn it. Lane and I obviously aren’t dating, but it’s hard for me to kick the thought about effort.
“Thank you. This is appreciated.” I take another sip.
A bit of stress rolls of Lane’s shoulders—broad, covered in a charcoal gray Otters hoodie. His face softens, almost like this has been bothering him. “Are we good for next week?” His voice is quieter than I expect.
“What’s next week?”
“Shooting from the right circle next, I’m guessing.”
It reminds me of the last time we were on the ice. No good.
I nod. “Yeah. That works for me.” I walk past him, ready for the next part of my day. Before I’m too far away, I call out, “Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Lee.”
He says my name like it’s an inside joke, and it sort of is.
“Whyareyoubringingcoffee to our coffee date?” Brinn asks, brows pinched together. Her eyes go wide when she reads the label. “I’d like to take that question back. Why is Lane’s name on this coffee cup?!”
Heat rushed to my cheeks at Brinn having no issue shouting this in a public place. The coffee shop is busy for this early—laptops open at every table, the low buzz of conversation mingling between them.
“Lane apologized,” I admit while we stand in line for Brinn to order her coffee. “Feels like he meant it."
“Wow. A man apologizing?! Someone write it down so we can remember this momentous day!” Her jab drips with sarcasm. “That’s why Leo was digging for coffee details.” She shakes her head in fake disappointment.
Elbowing her playfully, I say, “Stop that. This is a nice thing to do for someone.”
“Nice?” Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m sure that’s exactly what you were thinking. Hownicehe is.”
I gave her a look, but she just grins like she’s cornered me and there’s nowhere for me to go.
“We’re just friends,” I insist, a little too quickly. “Actually, we’re more like colleagues. With the research, and the stats, and—”
“Uh-huh.” She gives me a side-eye. “He seemed super friendly when he was showing you around his piercings...”
I grip her forearm, feeling the blush run rampant over my cheeks. My face feeling as hot as the pot of fresh coffee I see from here. “I told you that was between us,” I hiss, my jaw sort of clenched, and I’m trying not to laugh.
“Itisbetween us. No one knows what we’re talking about.” She gestures around the room, everyone focused on themselves or their own conversation. “But you’re avoiding what I'm trying to get at. How do you feel?” Her grin softens into something gentler. “I’m not saying you have to profess your love or anything. But admit it—there’s something there. Lane messed up, he owned it, and now he’s trying.”
I sigh, pressing my fingers to my temple. “It’s… complicated. Well, it’s not. One of the first rules for the hockey players is to not hook up with the coach’s daughter.”
“Complicated doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.” Brinn bumps her shoulder into mine, her voice quiet but sure. “Plus, I'll have you know, you’ve evaded the question yet again.” She claps her hands like she’s got me.
Heat creeps up my neck. I take a slow sip of coffee to buy myself a few seconds. “He doesn't want me like that. He’s made that perfectly clear.”
For a moment, I pause. I think about what she’s asking. She reaches the front of the counter and is ordering coffee while I try to figure it out. Brinn doesn’t press me and I'm thankful.
What do I want? And if I already know the answer, maybe I’m weighing the risks of what it would mean to actually have it.
Chapter 29
LANE
Thetunnelshakeswiththe crowd’s roars—like a living, breathing thunder climbing up my spine. All my teammates are locked in, waiting to skate out. Our first home game. My chance to show the guys I’m capable of doing what I need to do to make us all successful.
It should be a close game against Grove College, but I’m ready.
