Page 26 of Risking the Pucking Defense

I attempt to roll onto my front and slip free. If I can, maybe I can silently leave his room without waking him or having to deal with the inevitable awkwardness. But he’s got me pinned. Who the hell sleeps holding onto someone in a vise grip like this? No one I’ve ever shared a bed with before, that’s for sure.

I shake off the lingering resentment that thought leaves me with. It doesn’t matter. None of it does. I just need to get out of bed and get back to my room without anyone discovering that I spent the night in a player’s bed.

Oh God.

My stomach turns over, bile rushing up my throat.

I slept in the same bed as a hockey player.

I squeeze my eyes closed, willing the panic to subside.

It wasn’t like that, a little voice says. You were just being a friend.

But even that has me panicking.

I don’t have friends. I certainly don’t have friends that I share a bed with.

Jesus fucking Christ, Hailee.

I try moving again, but it’s impossible.

I’m going to have to wake him.

“Hayden,” I whisper-hiss.

Nothing.

“Hayden?” It’s a little louder this time, but still, no response.

So much for him not getting a lot of sleep right now.

I know it’s true—the dark circles under his eyes yesterday were evidence enough—and now here I am, trying to drag him from the sleep he’s managed.

But as much as I want him to rest, I can’t lie here for the next…however long waiting for him to wake up. I’ve got things to do.

No, that’s bullshit. I don’t have anything that needs my urgent attention, but that’s not the point. Someone always needs something from me. It’s bad enough that I walked out of my hotel room without my cell last night. I’ve probably got heaps of messages and emails that need dealing with.

Jesus. What was I thinking?

“Hayden,” I call, and my heart jumps into my throat when he stirs.

Please just release me. Let me escape.

“No,” he groans, snuggling even closer, his grip on me tighter. And that’s when I feel it.

“Hayden,” I shriek, giving him little choice but to release me as I wrench myself from his arms, and quickly after, his bed.

“Hailee?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep and full of confusion.

“Just…go back to sleep. Pretend I was never here.”

“B-but⁠—”

“Go back to sleep, Monroe.” I hate how commanding my words sound, but I don’t know what else to do.

Spotting my hotel keycard on the nightstand, I grab it and race around the bed.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep. That…that shouldn't have happened.”