Page 48 of Temptation On Ice

“Bro, Davy’s married to a Russian model. He’s not your person,” Nico says, turning them both toward the dressing room. “But keep trying your luck and you’ll find them.”

Once the guys are gone, I pull Tucker’s face from my shoulder and look at him. “Let me go change, and we can get out of here. My parents have Enzo tonight. Come to my place, since it’s closer.”

Tucker shakes his head. “I drove Cami and have the dog.”

“You’re in no shape to drive right now.” I look over at Cami, who’s made herself small off to one side of the hallway, silently observing our interaction the whole time. “Can you drive his truck and get the dogs taken care of tonight and tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll cover whatever needs to happen until he’s back. Thank you for helping him. I’m so glad you were here,” she says quietly. The look she gives me is heavy with unspoken sentiment and worry for her brother.

I nod at her, my chest tightening with emotion at that look. I may not know what I’m doing, but I’m fucking glad it managed to help Tucker even a little bit. I reluctantly pull back from Tucker’s arms and kiss his forehead.

“Wait here for me. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

Twenty

Tucker

I’m such a mess. I can't believe I had a fucking panic attack at a hockey game of all places, and it was set off by seeing Sebastian laid out on the ice like an offering at a fish market.

My rational brain went offline, static crackling and drowning out the sound of the crowd as electrical signals crossed until I was seeing the worst, rather than just imagining it. Sebastian was as good as gone from my life in that moment, and I’d never given us the chance he’d practically begged for. I saw my future without him, and it was a bleak wasteland devoid of life or happiness. I’d shut him out because I didn't want to get hurt again, when finding something special with him was the more likely alternative.

I can't live my life in fear of the worst when it’s only going to keep me from experiencing the best that’s possible.

Maybe that trite platitude of it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all is right. Regardless, I know without a doubt that I can't push him away because I’m scared of the possibility of things going wrong. If he still wants me after seeing what a colossal basket case I can be, I won’t deny him again.

I don't argue when Sebastian says he’s taking me home, as surreal as that is. I feel a little disconnected from reality.

I don't put up a fight when Cami takes my keys and the dog, leaving me with Sebastian and a hug that allows her to whisper, “Let yourself enjoy him. Be safe. I love you,” before she walks away with a knowing smile.

I let Sebastian take my hand and guide me through the halls of the arena in a dissociative state until we make it to a parking garage, and I’m in the front seat of his SUV. It’s a quiet ride, with me in my head spinning through everything I wish I could’ve changed about tonight. When we pull up to his house, I’m momentarily excused from my pity party because of the glaring reminder of how fucking different we are.

I call Sebastian ‘City Boy’ to tease him about being from New York and looking a bit out of place at my house out in the country. Seeing his big house lit up with landscaping and soffit lights against the dark evening lets me know just how out of my element I am. He pulls into a garage and gingerly climbs out. He’s not wearing the ice pack on his shoulder, but he has limited mobility, so I grab the suit jacket from the back and follow him inside, where I stop dead in my tracks as I take in the impossibly beautiful home.

Shit. He’s been slumming it, coming out to my old farmhouse, which is always a little dusty and has dog hair everywhere, filled with hand-me-down furniture, my grandma’s quilts, and dated appliances. It’s downright ugly in comparison.

Sebastian’s home, on the other hand, is modern, clean, and everything matches. He actually has a design aesthetic, whereas Callum keeps threatening to throw everything in my house out so he can start from scratch to keep his eyes from bleeding whenever he comes over. I’ve told him I just collect what I need and don't worry if it matches, since I only require it for the functionality. He nearly cries every time he hears me say that. Now I know why, after seeing what’s possible with Sebastian’s house.

I hastily brush at the dog hair on my flannel shirt and notice my faded jeans have dirt on the knees from kneeling on the floor for so long. I should probably take off my work boots before I walk across the light wood floors in case I track dirt in. I look like someone Sebastian would hire to work on something broken in his house, not someone he wants to spend time with here.

“You hungry?” Sebastian asks, breaking through my critical self-flagellation and comparison.

“No,” I answer quickly. “I ate earlier and don’t have much of an appetite now.” My episodes tend to leave me wrung out and queasy, and the last thing I want is to eat.

“Hope you don't mind if I grab something real quick, I’m starving,” he says, leading me into a beautiful kitchen that’s four times the size of the tiny space in my house, and pulls open the giant refrigerator to gather a meal-prepped container and a couple of water bottles. Even his fridge is spotless and filled with labeled, matching containers, everything organized within an inch of its life. My fridge, in contrast, has repurposed margarine tubs as my leftovers containers, and there may be science experiments growing in some of them that have been there for a while. He hands me a bottle without asking, knowing I could use a drink. He struggles a bit with the lid of his bottle, and I rush to grab it out of his hand.

“Sit down. Let me help you,” I insist.

I take the bottle, twisting the lid off before giving it back, then remove the top from his food. I look around and find the microwave, putting the glass container inside to heat up. I turn back to find Sebastian watching me with a soft smile.

“What?” I ask, heat creeping up my neck. I bring my hand up to cover it and rub like there’s nothing wrong.

“I like you in my space. Having you here feels good, but I think your place will always be my favorite. It’s so much more lived-in and comfortable. It’s peaceful and lets me take deep breaths that do more than fill my lungs. It restores my soul every time I visit you. This house still doesn't feel like home. Just a place I’m staying that’s too sterile and empty. Now get over here.”

I fight the shiver that races down my spine at the command in his tone, but inevitably give in and let the rush of need drown out my insecurities. I walk toward Sebastian and stand between his legs, placing my hands on the marble island he’s leaning against that’s bigger than my dining table.

“You wanted me closer?” I ask.

The tension between us is thick and hot, giving the Atlanta weather a run for its money as it makes me sweat even in the air-conditioned house. My knees threaten to give under my weight and send me crashing to the wooden floor at his feet when I meet his scorching gaze that promises to burn up even more between us. His dark eyes are hooded as they bounce between my eyes and mouth, flooding me with need that has my dick hardening in my pants.