Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
NATHAN
I cannot, under any circumstances, kiss Riley Carter.
At least, not like this.
In her semi-drunk state, she’s not fully aware of her surroundings or even of who I am.
I startled her when I came into the bathroom earlier, which means she had no idea who she was clinging to in The Tuna. Or who carried her up the stairs. Or who opened her apartment.
Kissing her now would be taking advantage of her.
If that’s your decision, you should probably back up now.
The voice of reason is right.
But my brain and my body are at war, and one of them is losing—big time.
Especially when Riley’s lips part ever-so-slightly and her gaze tracks down to my mouth.
Of their own volition, my gaze finds her mouth too.
Have mercy.
They’re pink and plump and perfect.
My fingers skim her cheek, tracing the curve of her face down to her chin. My thumb brushes the underside of her lip, just a whisper’s breath of a touch. But it’s enough to send my pulse raging in my ears.
Riley closes her eyes, sighing lightly.
My heart shudders in response.
My throat bobs with a swallow.
She’s so exquisite. So kind. So strong and yet so soft.
I’m drawn to that duality, to those contrasts that make up the core of who she is.
Strong yet vulnerable—
Firm but tender—
Equal measures of sweetheart and sharp-tongued soldier.
It’s why I’m so consumed by her.
It’s why I want to take the risk.
I brush my thumb along her chin again, dancing on the outline of her lips. That second pass has my body heating like an inferno.
Two angels poof to life on my shoulders.
Angel 1: If you give in now, if you taste her the way you want to, it’ll ruin her ability to trust you.
Angel 2: But what if she’s feeling this too?
Angel 1: Is she in her right mind to consent to that?
Angel 2: It’s not like she’s unconscious.
Angel 1: You’re supposed to be taking care of her, not pushing yourself on her.
My heart hammers and my nostrils flare as the angel on each shoulder fights for their way.
Angel 1: Do it now. Riley’s walls are down.
Angel 2: Her walls are down because she’s drunk, you idiot.
Angel 1: When will you have an opportunity like this again?
Riley opens her eyes halfway and watches me, totally open. Totally trusting. I know, she won’t push me away if I press my lips against hers and that gives me the courage I need to inch back.
I won’t betray that precious trust that she has. I can’t afford to lose that.
The chaos in my head goes quiet after I make my decision, and I reward myself by lingering close enough to take her in.
She’s beautiful beyond words. Beyond measure.
Those dark, chocolate eyes. The thick lashes. Her nose with the little, upturned tip. And those lips.
My breath staggers.
I avert my eyes from her mouth before the impulse to kiss her grows any stronger.
“I should go,” I say.
Good choice, Angel 1 says.
Boo, Angel 2 body protests.
“Thank you, Nat,” Riley says. “For bringing me home and taking care of me. For… for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
I don’t know if it’s the lighting, or the hour, or the fact that Riley barked at me today and it ruined my entire month—but I’m reluctant to leave her side.
Tomorrow, she’s going to remember that she pushed me away.
Tomorrow, we’ll return to being distant acquaintances who exchange awkward lines about the weather before inventing an excuse to run off. Or even worse, she might give me that stern look and call my name in that annoyed teacher voice as if the sight of me is aggravating to her.
Tomorrow, this moment might feel like a dream.
“I really should go,” I tell her, as if she’s the one arguing for me to stay.
“Okay,” Riley whispers. Her voice is thick with disappointment.
My resolve wobbles.
I push to my feet before it can crumble any further. “Okay.”
She blinks a couple times, looking small and vulnerable.
“Get some sleep.”
Riley nods and settles into bed. I pull the covers up around her shoulders, making sure that she’s comfy and snug. She’s still looking at me when I pull away and I can’t do it. I can’t just leave.
So I press my hand into the mattress next to her pillow, lean down and press a kiss to her temple.
Riley closes her eyes and a smile flirts with the corner of her lips. It takes all my self-control, every crumb of self-restraint to move away. By some miracle, I do.
The first step back is the hardest.
The second wrenches my heart out of my chest.
The third hammers in the point that I’m down bad and this is really, genuinely, sincerely not brotherly feelings in my heart.
Riley closes her eyes and settles into the pillow. I swiftly exit her bedroom and let the door click shut.
Out in the living room, I check my phone and notice that there hasn’t been any response from Renthrow about the stomach medication. He’s probably busy taking care of Cordelia and doesn’t have time to read his messages.
Alright then.
I need another solution. I hated seeing Riley in pain tonight. She’ll need medicine just in case she gets nauseous again.
Should I drive to the pharmacy? How will I get back into her apartment? I don’t want to wake Riley and disturb her rest and I also don’t want to take her keys without permission.
Back in the city, there were rideshares and errand apps that made problems like this a non-issue, but I doubt there’s even a twenty-four-hour pharmacy open in Lucky Falls.
Undeterred, I go through all the apps until I find one that has a rider available and willing to buy the medication and deliver it all the way here to Lucky Falls. It’ll take them about an hour.
Since I’ll be in her apartment for an hour, I start looking for things I can do to make Riley’s life easier.
The first thing I notice is the clothes tossed haphazardly over her couch. There’s dust on her cabinet in the corner and on her TV stand. Plus, there’s a mountain of dishes in the sink.
A wry smile forms on my lips. I’ve been in Riley’s auto shop. The building is old, but each work station is pristine. There’s no book out of place, no dust, no grime. It’s impeccable. She’s probably too tired from working all day to then clean her own space.
I take on the task and get to work, folding her clothes and setting them on the edge of the sofa. I dust off her shelves and all wooden surfaces. When I’m done with that, I sweep the floors and then wash all the dishes.
The dishes take the longest. I don’t want to make too much noise so I move slowly and gingerly. Thankfully, Riley’s door remains tightly shut and I take that as a good sign that she’s sleeping.
As I lay out her wash cloth to dry, I hear a knock on the door. Zooming around the counter, I open it before the errand runner can knock again and accept the plastic bag he shoves into my hands.
“Thanks, man.” I smile.
His jaw drops and he points at my face. “Hey, aren’t you…?”
I press a finger to my lips.
“Nathan Campbell?” He says in a quiet but exuberant voice. “What are you doing in this nowhere town, man?”
“I’m playing hockey,” I say.
“That’s what’s up.” The guy grins “I read that you’d retired ‘cause your leg is all whacked-up now. I heard them talking about it on the sports channel.”
I just smile politely.
“Can I get a picture, man?”
I step into the hallway, situate us so that Riley’s room door and surroundings aren’t in the picture and smile for the selfie.
The rider enthusiastically thanks me for the picture and then he’s off.
My smile falls flat as I let the door close behind me. So the rumor in the industry is that I’m retiring? I open the sports channel app, and once I’ve scrolled down far enough, I see the article.
A Star Is Born Only To Fade.
The author reports on my stats while I was in the league and then details the accident, the surgeries that put my leg back together, and my quiet retirement from the team.
‘Is there a chance that Campbell can play hockey again? Maybe as a casual activity, but the truth is his best days are long behind him. He was a star snuffed out too soon. I wish him well on his journey to life outside of the rink.’
The sound of paper rustling drags my attention down. I’m tightening my fingers on the delivery package. With a deep breath, I exit from the app and grab my things from Riley’s apartment.
I’m going home and I’m going to stay up all night, studying the tapes.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll be on that ice, putting in the work.
Because I can’t control what the media thinks about me.
I can’t control if I’ll even get on the Lucky Strikers’ team.
But I do have all the power to give this comeback my best shot.