Page 108 of Puck Me Back to Life

You could've woken me up.

You looked peaceful.

I stare at the words. Peaceful.

Nobody has ever described me that way.

Intimidating?

Sure.

Grumpy?

Frequently.

An asshole?

According to Dante, almost daily.

Peaceful isn't one I've heard before.

Another message appears.

Besides, I figured if I woke you up you'd convince me to stay.

I snort.

Correct.

Something warm settles low in my chest. The exchange shouldn't mean anything.

It's just a few text messages. That's all. And yet I can't remember the last time something so small made my morning noticeably better.

I lock my phone and slip it into my pocket. The condo suddenly feels much quieter.

Not lonely. Just...missing someone.

An alarming realization. I really need to get a grip. Instead of examining that thought any further, I head toward the bathroom to get ready for practice.

By the time I pull into the arena parking lot forty-five minutes later, my eyes are already scanning the rows of cars. The first thing I notice when I pull into the players' parking lot is Kai's car.

Or rather, the lack of it.

His beat-up silver Civic is impossible to miss. It has a dent in the rear bumper that he's been insisting he'll fix “eventually” for at least a month now. Normally it's already sitting three rows over by the time I arrive.

This morning the space is empty. I cut the engine but don't get out immediately.

Maybe he stopped for coffee.

Maybe traffic is worse than usual.

Maybe—

I shake the thought away before it has time to grow teeth. He texted me this morning. He sounded alright. He'll be here.

I climb out of my truck, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head inside.

The arena feels different today. Busier. Louder. Everyone seems to be talking at once.