Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
One week.
Seven days since the pickleball date. Since she started sleeping in my bed every night, instead of her own room.
Seven days of waking up with her in my arms. Coffee in the kitchen while she tells me about whatever song she’s recording. Grace judging us from various surfaces when we make out—and fuck—because we can’t keep our hands off each other.
Seven days of pretending we’re not on borrowed time.
And now I’m packing for the 4 Nations Face-Off, and I don’t want to go. Not a thought I ever thought I’d have. I’ve always jumped at every opportunity that gave me more ice time. But now… I don’t know. It’s different.
“You’re staring at that shirt like it killed your cat,” Summer says around a yawn.
I look up. She’s perched on my bed in nothing but my T-shirt, her knees pulled to her chest and ankles crossed, watching me pack. Her hair’s messy, and her eyes are still half-closed with sleep.
“Just thinking.” I fold the shirt and add it to my suitcase.
She scoots closer. “About what?”
How I don’t want to leave you.
“Nothing important.”
She studies my face. “You’re not fooling me. You look like you’re being sent to prison.”
Because leaving you feels like punishment.
“Just tired. You must be, too. You didn’t have to get up.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” She yawns again. “Are you going to bring me home a medal or something?”
I chuckle. “That’s the plan.”
“You actually get a gold medal? I was kidding, but that’s cool.”
“Think so.” I unpair two socks, then tuck them back together. They look exactly the same.
“What time is your flight?”
“Six.” I glance at the suitcase, still mostly empty.
Everything I still need to pack is in a messy pile on the bed.
Which is also new. My suitcase is always packed the night before, waiting for me by the front door.
But last night, when Summer dropped to her knees and took me in her mouth, packing was the last thing on my mind.
She checks her phone, then looks back at me. “It’s four-thirty. Since when are you a last-minute packer?”
I lift a brow, fighting a smile. “I got distracted.”
She slides off the bed and crosses to me, wrapping her arms around my middle. Her cheek presses against my chest, and I feel her grin before she says, “Sorry,” not sounding very sorry at all.
I pull her closer and shut my eyes, letting myself have this.
“I don’t want to leave,” I mutter, hating to admit it.
Her arms tighten around me. “You gonna miss me?”
“Are you gonna miss me?” I ask instead of answering, because of course I am. I miss her, and I haven’t even left the house yet. I miss her in the hours she’s at the studio. Sometimes, I miss her when she’s just in another room.
It’s everything I was trying to avoid before surrendering to this insatiable need I have for her. And it’s so much more than just physical. She’s a light that’s illuminated my whole fucking life, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to the way things were before her.
But for her, I will. I’d do just about anything for her, I think.
“Of course.” She says it so easily, like admitting it costs her nothing at all.
“I’ll miss you, too.” I kiss the top of her head and force myself to let go. “Help me finish packing?”
She nods and folds a pair of athletic shorts, adding them to the suitcase.
I can almost pretend we’re packing for a trip together.
But I’ll never get that with Summer, will I?
By the time the season ends and I have time for a vacation, she’ll be gone. Nashville. Recording. Tour. Who even knows where music is going to take her?
And I’ll be here. Packing for the next road trip.
Alone.
I can’t think about that now.
We work wordlessly until the zipper rasps, closing loudly in the quiet, and I prop the suitcase by the door.
She turns to face me. “You’re going to be amazing.”
I cup her face. “I’ll see you in ten days.”
“Ten,” she echoes, then rises onto her toes and kisses me, soft and sweet, but I deepen it. Her hands slide up my chest, around my neck, fingers threading into my hair.
The slam of the front door echoes through the house, followed by an “Oops!” and the sound of someone taking the stairs two at a time.
Summer pulls back. “Is that—”
“Helm,” I groan.
He appears in the doorway. “Dude, you’re still packing? C’mon, we gotta go. Can’t miss the flight.”
His attention snaps to Summer, grinning. “Morning, Summer.”
She waves from where she’s still pressed against me. “Hey, Easton. What team are you playing for?”
“The U S of A, of course.” He closes the distance and holds up his palm for a high-five.
She humors him with an unenthusiastic slap. “Go, team.”
“Did I interrupt something?” His gaze slides to her bare legs.
“Out.” I point to the door.
“Right.” He backs away, hands raised. “I’ll be in the truck. Five minutes, Cap!”
When the door closes, Summer buries her face in my chest.
“I should go,” I say, but I don’t move.
“Yeah.” She doesn’t let go, either.
We stand there, just holding each other.
A distant honk finally pulls us apart. Impatient rookie.
Summer pulls on leggings and slips into her coat before following me downstairs. Helm’s truck is in the driveway, bass thumping loud enough to rattle my eardrums. My neighbors must love that.
At the door, I drop my bag and pull Summer into my arms once more.
“Call me when you land?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“And FaceTime tonight?”
“Every night.”
Helm honks.
“Ignore him,” I mutter.
“He’s going to keep doing it.”
“Let him.” I kiss her, wishing I had more time.
She’s the one who pulls back. “Go. Represent your country.” She raises a fist, butchering the Latin motto of Canada. “From Sea to Sea.”
I can’t help but laugh despite everything. Then, because I’m going to miss the flight if I linger any longer, I grab my bag and open the door. Summer walks with me.
Helm leans across the center console with a shit-eating grin. He rolls down the window, and thank Christ, he’s turned down the music.
“I’ll take good care of him,” he yells to Summer.
“I’m sure you will.” She smiles.
“Gonna make sure he has a great time. I’ve got a whole after-hours itinerary planned.”
I shake my head.
“Well… I’ll be having fun at least,” he continues, waggling his brows.
I tip my head back. I can’t pretend I was any better when I was single and a rookie. But as thirty creeps closer and closer, Helm makes me feel older by the day.
I pull open the door, then turn around and kiss Summer one more time.
There’s a little line between her brows. I smooth my thumb over it, and her gaze flicks up to mine.
“Have fun.” Her voice is bright, but her eyes don’t match.
Her mouth gapes like she might say more, but she doesn’t.
Before I can ask if she’s okay, she tugs me down and kisses me hard.
My hands tighten on her coat.
She pulls away first, but I kiss her one more time.
“I’ll call you when I get settled.”
She nods.
As Helm pulls out of the driveway, I look back, watching until the distance eats her up.
“You’ve got it bad,” Helm remarks, unhelpful as always.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
Ten days. Then I’ll be home.
Ten days isn’t that long.