Page 127 of The Goalie in Room 1

Cash had already reached the stairs. He carried the bag in one hand and used the railing with the other, taking each step carefully. I stayed behind him, close enough to catch him if something happened and far enough back that he couldn’t accuse me of hovering.

He glanced down at me after the fourth step. “If you stare at my ass any harder, you’re going to burn a hole through my sweats.”

“I’m watching your knee.”

“Bullshit.”

It was mostly bullshit. He had a gorgeous, bitable ass. I should know. I did know. And if I succeeded in burning a hole in those damnable sweats, I’d be able to see the marks I’d left on it last night.

He continued up the stairs without asking for help. His steps were slower than they had been before surgery, but they were steady. No brace. No crutch. No white-knuckled grip on the railing.

By the time we reached the landing, the urge to take the bag from him had me nearly crawling out of my skin.

Cash carried it down the hall and into the guest suite.

A stack of folded clothes sat on the bed. His laptop and chargers were on the nightstand. Three pairs of shoes lined the wall beside another bag I hadn’t noticed him carry up.

He had been moving while I slept.

Cash dropped the duffel onto the bed and unzipped it.

“What are you doing in here?”

He gave me a sideways look. “I thought we established this. Moving.”

“Into the guest suite?”

“That’s generally what happens when you put your shit in a room.”

“Why?”

He pulled a sweatshirt from the bag. “Because I can do the stairs now.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“The room downstairs was because I couldn’t get up here. Now I can.”

He placed the sweatshirt on top of the stack without looking at me.

Something about the careful way he lined up the edges stopped me from responding.

This wasn’t only about the stairs.

I crossed the room and picked up the folded clothes.

Cash finally looked at me. “What are you doing?”

“Moving you.”

“I’m already moving.”

“To the wrong room.”

His mouth opened, but I walked out before he could stop me.

“Thad.”

I kept going.