Chapter 10 #2
“Not yet.” I lean back in my seat, watching him set up in the offensive zone. “I try to come to his games when I can, but with my schedule and his... it's hard. He lives with our mom about an hour from here, so I don't get to see him as much as I'd like.”
“That must be tough.”
“It is.” The admission comes easier than I expected.
Things always do when I'm around her. “He's the main reason I signed with the Leviathans, actually.
Monterey's only a few hours from where we grew up. Close enough that I can come home for holidays, watch his games, and be around for the important stuff.”
Ally is quiet for a moment, and when I glance over, she's watching me with an expression I can't quite read. She looks soft in the dim arena lights, wrapped in my jacket, that red dress peeking out underneath.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head slightly. “You just keep surprising me.”
“Good surprises or bad surprises?”
“I haven't decided yet.”
Owen gets the puck again, and this time he doesn't rush the shot. He waits, fakes left, draws the goalie out of position—
And buries it top corner.
I'm on my feet before I realize it, cheering loud enough that a few parents turn to stare. “That's my boy! Let's go!”
Owen's head snaps toward the stands, and even from here I can see his face light up when he spots me. He raises his stick in acknowledgment before his teammates mob him.
I sit back down, grinning like an idiot.
“You're such a proud big brother,” Ally says, and there's something soft in her voice that makes my heart stutter.
“He's a good kid. Works harder than anyone I know.” I pause, watching Owen skate back to the bench for a line change. “He wants to go pro, like me. Has since he was eight.”
“Think he'll make it?”
“If he doesn't shoot too early, maybe.”
She laughs—actually laughs—and the sound hits me right in the chest. I want to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life.
“So,” she says, settling more comfortably in her seat, my jacket still wrapped around her, “is this your move? Bring girls to watch your little brother play hockey?”
“You're the first.”
She turns to look at me, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“Really.” I hold her gaze, letting her see that I'm serious. “I don't bring people here, Ally. This is... this is mine. Owen's games, watching him play—it's the one thing I keep separate from everything else. The team, the media, the campus stuff. This is just family.”
“Then why bring me?”
The question hangs between us, heavy with meaning.
I reach over and take her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “Because you're not just anyone. You never have been.”
She doesn't pull away. Doesn't make a sarcastic comment. Just looks at me with those brown eyes that see right through every wall I've ever built.
“Jay...” she starts.
“You don't have to say anything.” I squeeze her hand gently. “Just... watch the game with me. Be here. That's enough.”
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she leans into me slightly, her shoulder pressing against mine, and turns her attention back to the ice.
“He really does shoot too early,” she murmurs.
I laugh, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. “I know. It's a family curse.”
“Maybe I should tape his thigh too. Seems to be the only way to get you Cross boys to listen.”
“Careful, Hart. I might get jealous.”
“Please. You're mouth is the only one I'm taping.”
I get the implication the second a slow smirk draws across her lips. Fuck, am I getting hard? In a very cold rink? Yes.
If she notices, she doesn't call me out. She places her hand on my thigh, and gently strokes my jeans.
Yeah, that isn't helping my boner, but I don't care. It feels good, and I want her to keep touching me like she owns me, because she does.
We watch the rest of the game like that—pressed together in the cold stands, cheering for Owen, stealing glances at each other when we think the other isn't looking.
It's not fancy. It's not romantic in the traditional sense. It's just... real.
And for the first time in three, I'm not chasing her.
She's right here beside me.
Exactly where she belongs.
The final buzzer sounds, and Owen's team wins 4-2. The kids mob each other on the ice like they just won the Stanley Cup, and I can't help but grin at the pure joy on Owen's face.
“Come on,” I say, standing and offering Ally my hand. “Time for you to meet the real star of the family.”
She takes my hand, letting me pull her up. “Should I be nervous?”
“No, but I am. The kid has zero filter.”
“Ah, so he's just like you. Think I can handle that.”
“He's worse. I at least have charm.”
She snorts but doesn't argue, which I'm counting as a win.
We make our way down to the area outside the locker rooms, where parents are already gathering to collect their kids.
After a few minutes, Owen bursts through the locker room door, whose face splits into a grin the second he sees me.
“Jay!” He drops his bag and barrels into me, and I catch him in a hug that's a half tackle.
“Nice goal, O.” I ruffle his hair, which he immediately tries to fix. “Finally listened to me about waiting for the goalie, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah, you were right.” He rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling. “You gonna hold that over me forever?”
“Obviously.”
Owen's gaze slides past me to Ally, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Uh, Jay? Who's that?”
I step aside, placing my hand on the small of Ally's back. “Owen, this is Ally. Ally, this is my pain-in-the-ass little brother.”
“Hey!” Owen protests, but he's already extending his hand to Ally with a charming smile that's definitely genetic. “Nice to meet you. Sorry about him.”
Ally shakes his hand, clearly amused. “Nice to meet you too. That was a great game.”
“Thanks.” Owen's eyes narrow slightly as he looks between us. “So... you're like, Jay's girlfriend?”
“We're—” Ally starts.
“Working on it,” I cut in.
Owen's jaw drops. “Wait. Seriously?” He turns to Ally with wide eyes. “You're actually dating my brother? Like, voluntarily?”
“I haven't agreed to anything yet,” Ally says, shooting me a look.
“But you're here. At my game.” Owen looks genuinely stunned. “Jay's never brought anyone to my games before. Ever. I didn't even know he knew how to talk to girls without making them run away.”
“Owen.”
“What? It's true!” He's grinning now, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “One time he tried to impress a girl by showing her his hockey stats and she literally fell asleep.”
“That happened once, and she was jet-lagged.”
“She was not jet-lagged. She was bored.”
Ally laughs. “Well, lucky for him, I’m into lost causes and boring stat sheets. It’s kind of my charity work.”
“I like her,” Owen announces. “She laughs at you. That's important.”
“Thanks for the endorsement, kid.” I reach out and shove his shoulder lightly. “Don't you have a bus to catch?”
Owen glances toward where his teammates are starting to gather, then back at us. “Yeah, Coach said we're leaving in ten.” He hesitates, then looks at Ally again. “You should come to more games. Jay's way less annoying when you're around.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” Ally says.
Owen grabs his bag, then surprises me by stepping forward and wrapping his arms around me in a quick hug. “Thanks for coming.”
I hug him back, my chest tightening. “Wouldn't miss it.”
He pulls away, already trying to play it cool. “Yeah, whatever. Don't get weird about it.”
“Too late.”
He turns to Ally and, after a moment's hesitation, gives her a quick hug too. “It was nice meeting you. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”
“That's a tall order,” Ally says, “but I'll do my best.”
Owen grins, then jogs off toward his team, turning back once to wave before disappearing into the crowd of players.
I watch him go, something warm settling in my chest.
“He's sweet,” Ally says softly.
“Don't tell him that. It'll go to his head.” I take her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”
I lead her through the rink and out into the parking lot, the cold night air hitting us the second we push through the doors. The lot is mostly empty now, just a few cars scattered under the fluorescent lights.
“So,” Ally says, her breath forming small clouds in the air. “Where to next?”
She leans back against my car, arms crossed loosely over her chest, looking up at me with those dark eyes that have been driving me crazy all night.
My jacket swallows her whole, the sleeves pushed up around her wrists, and something primal twists in my gut at the sight of her wrapped up in something that's mine.
I step closer, close enough that I can see the way her breath catches. Close enough that I have to look down at her.
“I had this fancy place booked,” I say, my voice lower than I intend. “Nice restaurant. Reservations and everything.”
“Very impressive.”
“But looking at you right now...” I let my gaze drift over her face, her lips, the way the parking lot lights catch in her hair. “The only thing I'm hungry for is you.”
Her lips part, but she doesn't say anything. Doesn't move away.
I lean in and kiss her.
She melts into it immediately, her hands coming up to grip the front of my shirt as my mouth moves against hers. I press her back against the car, one hand braced on the roof beside her head, the other finding her hip, pulling her closer.
She makes this soft sound against my lips that short-circuits something in my brain.
The kiss deepens, turns hungrier. I nip at her bottom lip and she gasps, her fingers tightening in my shirt.
My hand slides down from her hip, fingers trailing along the outside of her thigh, slipping beneath the hem of my jacket she's wearing.
Her skin is warm, soft, and when my palm curves around the back of her thigh, she arches into me with a whimper that goes straight to my head.
“Jay,” she breathes against my mouth, and the sound of my name like that—wrecked, wanting—makes me lose whatever thread of self-control I had left.
I kiss her harder, deeper, my thumb tracing circles on her inner thigh. She hooks her fingers into my belt loops, pulling my hips flush against hers, and—
She tears her mouth away, pressing a hand flat against my chest.
We're both breathing hard. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, eyes a little dazed. She looks thoroughly kissed, and I want nothing more than to do it again.
“Okay,” she says, voice unsteady. “Okay, just—give me a second.”
I don't move back. Can't, really. “Take your time.”
She laughs, a breathless sound, her forehead dropping against my chest. I feel her shoulders rise and fall as she tries to get her breathing under control.
“As much as I like this idea,” she finally says, lifting her head to meet my eyes, “I'm starving.”
I stare at her. “You're thinking about food right now?”
“I'm thinking about how I haven't eaten since noon and if I don't get something in my stomach soon, I'm going to pass out.” She grins, then points over my shoulder. “Can we go get some fried chicken?”
I turn to look. Sure enough, there's a little fried chicken place across the parking lot, its neon sign flickering in the night.
A laugh escapes me, surprised and genuine. “You want fried chicken.”
“I really, really do.”
I look back at her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair a little mussed from my hands, still swimming in my jacket—and I've never wanted anyone more in my life.
“Sure,” I say, still laughing. “Let's go get you some fried chicken.”