17. Evan
Chapter 17
Evan
S neaking around with Sophie Bennett is going to be the death of me. We’ve had so many close calls now.
Not that I'm complaining—especially not at six a.m. when she's wrapped in my sheets, warm and soft and wearing nothing.
"We should get up," she murmurs against my chest. "Practice starts in an hour."
"Plenty of time."
"That's what you said yesterday." She props herself up to look at me. "And we were definitely late."
"Worth it."
"Coach Martinez didn't think so."
"Coach Martinez needs to mind his own business."
She laughs, the sound doing dangerous things to my self-control. "He definitely noticed something was off when you missed five saves in a row."
"I was distracted."
"By what?" Her smile turns wicked. "Memories of what happened at my office the night before?"
Both of us have been...distracted since that night in the cubicle. Three days of stolen moments between practices. Quick kisses in empty hallways. Late nights that turn into early mornings. Having Natalia at Julia’s house all weekend has given us the opportunity to be together twenty-four-seven except for practices.
"You're a bad influence," I tell her, rolling us so she's under me. I hold my body up a bit, worried about crushing her petite frame.
"Me? I'm completely professional." But her hands are already sliding across my naked ass. "You're the one who can't keep his hands to himself. Like, ever."
"You’re just very...distracting."
"Of course it’s all my fault."
I shut her up with a kiss, one that quickly turns into something more. Something that makes me forget about practice and…
My phone rings.
"Ignore it," Sophie breathes against my neck.
"It’s Julia. She'll just keep calling," I groan.
"Then answer it." Sophie grins. "I'll behave."
That's definitely a lie, but I grab my phone anyway.
"What?" I say abruptly.
"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine!" Julia's too-cheerful voice fills the room. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Yes. Goodbye."
"Wait!" She laughs. "Mom wanted me to remind you about Sunday dinner."
"I remember."
"And to tell you to bring your lady friend."
I freeze. Sophie, who can apparently hear Julia's side of the conversation, stops trailing kisses down my chest.
"My what?"
"Oh. Ohhhh, this is too good." Julia's clearly enjoying this too much. “You didn’t know? Apparently, Natalia was over at Mom's yesterday and couldn't stop talking about the pretty lady doing a feature on Ryland."
Sophie's eyes go wide.
"That's not…" I start.
"Direct quote from our dear mother, 'Tell Evan to bring the woman who's teaching my granddaughter hockey statistics. I need to meet anyone who can make math exciting’."
"Natalia talks too much," I mutter.
"She takes after her aunt." Julia's smugness is audible. "So, should I tell Mom you'll both be there?"
I look at Sophie, who's now hiding her face in my chest, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
"I'll...think about it."
"That's Evan-speak for yes." Julia sounds delighted. "I'll tell Mom to make extra marinara. Oh, and Evan?"
"What?"
"Don’t even try not bringing her. You can run, but you can’t hide. Not from Mom, at least.”
I hang up on her laughter. A few seconds pass before I place the phone on the nightstand, and look over to find Sophie looking at me.
"So," the dark-haired vixen says after a moment, "your mom knows about me."
"Apparently."
"Because of math."
"And Natalia's big mouth."
She sits up, pulling the sheet with her. "Is this bad? Should I be worried? Should we…"
I kiss her, mostly to stop the spiral of panic I can see building.
"It's not bad," I say against her lips. "Just...complicated."
"Because of the feature?"
"Because of everything." I run a hand through my hair. "The feature, the team, my family..."
"Your ex-wife?"
The words hang between us, heavy with everything we haven't discussed.
"Sophie…"
"No, it's okay." She starts gathering her clothes. "We should get ready for practice anyway."
"Wait." I catch her hand. "That's not...I'm not ashamed of this. Of you."
"No?"
"No." I pull her back into bed. "I'm just...not good at this."
"At what?"
"At letting people in. At mixing personal and professional. At..." I gesture between us. "At whatever this is becoming."
She's quiet for a moment, fingers tracing patterns on my chest.
"And what is this becoming?"
That's the question, isn't it?
"I don't know," I admit. "But I know I don't want to stop."
"Even if your mother wants to meet me?"
"Even then."
"Even if the team notices?"
"They're just jealous."
She laughs. "Of what?"
"Of how I somehow got the prettiest Blades intern to fall for me."
"Former Blades intern," she corrects. "And who says I've fallen for you?"
I roll us again, pinning her beneath me. "Haven't you?"
Her expression softens. "Maybe. A little."
"Just a little?"
"Don't push your luck, Ice Man." But she pulls me down for a kiss that suggests it’s more than 'a little’.
We get lost in each other for a while, the phone call momentarily forgotten. But eventually, reality intrudes.
"We really should get up," Sophie murmurs against my neck. "Practice..."
"Is still forty minutes away."
"Thirty-eight." She pushes at my chest. "And I need to shower and change and…"
"Shower here."
She raises an eyebrow. "That's not very professional."
"Neither is what we did in your office."
"Fair point." She trails her fingers down my chest. "But if I shower here..."
"You'll be late for work."
"And you’ll be late to practice."
"Worth it."
She laughs but lets me pull her toward the bathroom.
"Your mother's going to hate me," she says as I turn on the water.
"My mother's going to love you. Everyone does."
"Everyone?"
"Natalia already does." I step under the spray, pulling her in with me. "Julia obviously does, since she's being annoyingly smug about this."
"And you?"
The question is soft, almost lost in the sound of water.
I look at her—really look at her. At how she fits perfectly against me, how she makes everything brighter just by being here.
How she makes me want things I'd sworn off years ago.
"I..." The words stick in my throat.
"It's okay." She kisses my chest, right over my heart. "We don't have to define it."
But maybe I want to. Maybe I want more than stolen moments and secret smiles. Maybe I want...
My phone buzzes from the bedroom. Then hers.
Reality, intruding again.
"That's probably Coach," she sighs. "Wondering where you are."
"Probably."
"We should..."
"Yeah."
But neither of us moves.
Because this—whatever it is—feels too good to let go.
My phone buzzes again.
Julia: Mom's already planning the menu. No pressure.
"We're not very good at sneaking around, are we?" Sophie asks, reading over my shoulder.
"Apparently not."
"So..." She bites her lip. "Sunday dinner?"
"You don't have to…"
"I want to." She meets my eyes. "If you want me to."
And maybe that's the real question here.
It’s not whether we can keep this professional. Not whether we can keep it secret. Not even whether we should stop.
But whether I'm brave enough to let it be real.
"Yeah," I hear myself say. "I want you to."
Her smile just might be worth everything that might come next.