Chapter sixteen #2
We didn’t speak in the elevator. I stood on one side, he stood on the other, and the silence between us was heavy with things I didn’t know how to ask.
His eyes had faded back to their normal gray with copper flecks, but his jaw was still tight, his shoulders still carrying tension that suggested he was holding himself back from something.
His truck was in the parking garage—a big black Ford that suited him perfectly. He opened the passenger door for me, which felt strangely formal given the circumstances, and I climbed in while he threw my bag in the back seat.
The drive started in silence. He navigated through downtown Denver with the kind of focus that suggested he was thinking about something other than traffic patterns. I watched the city slide past my window, trying to process what had just happened.
Odin had tried to kiss me. Had been stronger than he should have been. Had said things about Kincaid that felt too knowing, too specific. And then Kincaid had shown up with copper eyes and an intensity that made me wonder what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
We left downtown behind, heading west toward the foothills. The houses got bigger, the lots more spread out, and the sort of darkness that came from being away from city lights settling around us. I watched the landscape change, trying to figure out where we were going.
“Where do you live?” I asked.
“Not much further.”
We turned onto a road that wound up into the foothills, the incline steep enough that I could feel it in my ears. Trees appeared on both sides—pine and aspen, dark shapes against the slightly lighter sky. No streetlights here, just the occasional mailbox marking driveways I couldn’t see.
He turned onto one of those driveways, and I watched a gate swing open automatically as we approached. The driveway was long, paved, climbing higher into the foothills until we rounded a curve and suddenly there was a house.
I stared.
It was beautiful in a way that made my small apartment feel even more temporary than it already did.
All glass and steel and wood, lit from within so I could see the open floor plan, the high ceilings, the attention to detail that suggested serious money had gone into this place.
The mountains rose behind it, dark shapes against the star-filled sky, and I could see the lights of Denver spread out in the valley below us.
“You live here?” The words came out before I could stop them. Stupid inane question.
“Yes.” He pulled into the garage and killed the engine. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
I followed him inside in a daze, my bag still slung over my shoulder. The garage opened into a mudroom that was bigger than my apartment. Beyond that was the kitchen—all granite and stainless steel, professional-grade appliances that looked like they’d never been used.
And then the great room.
I stopped in the doorway, taking it in. Floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the valley. Exposed beams in the ceiling. A fireplace that made the place look even bigger.
“This is...” I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
“Too much for one person,” Kincaid said, and there was something self-deprecating in his tone. “I know. I bought it for the privacy and the land, not the house.”
I turned to look at him, and he was standing in the kitchen doorway watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. The copper had completely faded from his eyes now, replaced by something that looked almost uncertain.
“Why am I here?” I asked. “Really. What’s going on that made you follow me home?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes holding mine across the vast space of that beautiful, empty room. Then he said, “Because you’re important to me. And because I’ve been lying to both of us for two months about why I need to keep you at a distance.”
My heart was suddenly hammering against my ribs. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said slowly, like each word was being dragged out of him, “that we need to talk. Really talk. About things I should have told you weeks ago.”
He moved into the great room, gesturing toward the couch. “Sit. Please. This is going to take a while.”
I didn’t sit.
I stood there in that beautiful, empty room with my bag still over my shoulder, watching him struggle with whatever he was trying to say. The silence stretched between us, heavy with two months of careful distance and professional boundaries that were apparently about to shatter.
“I’m attracted to you,” he said finally, and the words hit me like a physical blow. “I have been since the moment you stepped onto my ice. And I’ve been fighting it every single day because I’m your coach and getting involved with you could destroy everything you’ve worked for.”
My breath caught. “What?”
He moved closer, his eyes intense on mine.
“Antoine was your boyfriend. Or something close to it. I’m guessing that’s true based on what I’ve seen, what I’ve heard from Chicago contacts.
And I’m guessing that when you got good—when you started to become a threat to his position—he made sure your career suffered for it. ”
The accuracy of that statement made my stomach drop. “How did you—"
“Because I’ve seen it before. Because I know how these things work when there’s a power imbalance and someone gets threatened.
” His jaw tightened. “If we get involved, Dante, and if the press finds out—your career is over. Every decision I make regarding you will be scrutinized. Every shift I give you, every opportunity, every word of praise—it’ll all be seen through the lens of our relationship.
Other players will accuse you of sleeping your way onto the first line.
Management might force one of us out. I can’t—I won’t let what I want put you in that position. ”
I stared at him, pieces clicking into place. “That’s why you said no. Sunday night, when I tried to kiss you. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to.”
“Christ, no.” His voice was rough. “I wanted to. I’ve wanted to every single day since you got here. But wanting something and being able to have it are two very different things.”
“So what changed?” I asked. “Why tell me this now? Why bring me here?”
“Because watching Odin Clark put his hands on you made me realize that protecting your career doesn’t mean anything if I can’t actually protect you.” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Because distance hasn’t kept you safe. It’s just made us miserable.”
My heart was racing. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t have an answer. I’m saying this is impossible and complicated and could ruin both of us.
I’m saying that every logical reason I have for staying away from you is still valid.
” He took a step closer. “And I’m also saying that I can’t watch you go out with someone else.
Can’t pretend I don’t care. Can’t keep lying about what you mean to me. ”
I dropped my bag. It hit the floor with a thud that echoed in the vast space.
“So you’re scared,” I said slowly. “Not of me. Not of us. You’re scared of what other people will do if they find out.”
“Yes.” The word came out like a confession. “I’m terrified of what this could cost you. Of what happened with Antoine happening again because of me.”
I understood then. Really understood. He wasn’t rejecting me because of our ages, or because I wasn’t good enough, or because he didn’t want me. He was rejecting me because he was trying to protect me from the same thing that had destroyed me in Chicago.
And I loved him for it. The realization hit me with stunning clarity—I loved this complicated, frustrating man who’d been pushing me away to keep me safe.
But I was done being safe. Done letting other people’s potential reactions dictate my choices. Done hiding what I wanted because it might be complicated.
I crossed the space between us before I could second-guess myself. Before logic could reassert itself. Before fear could stop me.
I kissed him.
For a moment he froze, his whole body going rigid with surprise.
Then something in him broke, and he was kissing me back with an intensity that made my knees weak.
His hands came up to frame my face, gentle despite the desperation I could feel vibrating through him, and I pressed closer, trying to convey everything I couldn’t say with words.
This was worth it. He was worth it. Whatever the cost, whatever the complications, this moment—this connection—was worth fighting for.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. His eyes had gone copper again, but this time it didn’t frighten me. This time I understood what it meant.
“Dante,” he said, and my name on his lips sounded like a prayer. “We can’t—"
“Yes, we can.” I kept my hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering against my palms. “We can be careful. We can be smart. But I’m not walking away from this. From you. Not because other people might have opinions about it.”
“Your career—"
“Is mine to risk.” I looked up at him, making sure he could see I meant it. “Antoine destroyed it once because I let him have that power. I’m not making that mistake again. This is my choice. You’re my choice.”
His hands were still on my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then tell me. Explain it to me. But don’t push me away because you think you’re protecting me. I’m twenty-three, not a child. I get to decide what risks are worth taking.”
He stared at me for a long moment, something complicated working across his face.
Then he leaned down and kissed me again—slower this time, deeper, like he was memorizing the taste of me.
When he pulled back, his eyes were still glowing, but his expression had shifted into something that looked almost like permanence.