Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Luka
I wake early in Reid’s arms, his chest moving against my back as his slow, rhythmic breaths tickle the sensitive skin of my neck.
Last night was amazing, and I really fucking hope he feels the same way.
But I’m also slightly terrified he won’t, and so I’ve been lying here for the last ten minutes trying to convince myself I can slip out of his grasp without actually waking him up so I can delay the heartbreak that’s so likely to come.
My phone vibrates from the floor beside the bed, and I finally get up the courage to slide out from under his arm.
I check the caller ID. It’s my mom. She’s called and messaged a bunch of times since last night.
Fuck. I never do this. Even in college, Cosmo and I would text each other if we were taking over our shared room for the night, or not coming back to it at all.
Mom has to be freaking out. I make my way to the kitchen and shoot her a text.
LUKA: I’m fine. The phone died, and I crashed at a teammate’s place. Sorry to worry you. I’ll be home soon.
Reid makes a soft whining noise from the bedroom, and I lean back to check on him. He’s still asleep, but he’s half tangled in the bed sheet, perfectly tight, bare ass up begging me to climb back in with him. But I can’t.
I grab my clothes, dress, and sneak out, and the second the door closes behind me, I regret leaving. I can’t exactly knock on the door to be let back in, can I?
Fuck no, that would be weird. Well, even weirder than sneaking out in the first place. Urgh, I’ll just go home and see him at the rink for practice.
***
“Should we expect more nights like that?” Dad asks the moment I’m through the door.
“I texted mom this morning.”
“That was super helpful at midnight when she was still up waiting for you, texting and calling you to make sure her baby boy was okay.”
“You’ve been practicing this, haven’t you?” I ask, and Dad crosses his arms over his chest, a stern frown on his face. But his lip twitches. He can’t hold it, and he bursts out laughing.
“Okay, so I might have practiced a little,” he chuckles. “Was it that bad?”
“To anyone else, you’d sound just like a concerned parent,” I reply, heading right to the fridge for some OJ.
“Hey, we were concerned,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder, and I knew they would have been. Like any good parent, they would have worried, then remembered I’m all grown now and relaxed a little.
“But you weren’t up all night pacing the hall, right?”
“Well, you are an adult. We got used to not knowing where you are every minute when you went off to college.”
“I really should get my own place.”
Mom walks into the kitchen just as I’m about to take a sip from the OJ bottle. She shakes her head, reaches over and grabs the bottle, and then collects a glass from the overhead cupboard.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, just use a glass,” she says, pouring me a drink and handing it over.
“But it tastes better right out of the bottle.”
She turns to me straight-faced, but doesn’t say a word. I know well enough not to push.
“I’m going to change before practice.”
I should shower. Last night we crashed pretty quickly after what can only be described as the most intense night I’ve ever had with anyone.
But I just can’t bring myself to wash away the scent of him.
His earthy sweet cologne lingers on my skin, and it’s delicious.
It wasn’t like this with Cosmo, not that Cosmo and I ever hooked up, but the feelings I have for Reid are different.
I liked being near Cosmo, he was fun and cute and we always had a fun time, but this is so much more.
My whole body comes alive beside Reid. And when he touches me, even just brushing my skin, it’s like a million butterflies swarm through me to my core.
Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?
This can’t be what everyone else feels. How can I go on with life, doing all the boring things that need doing, when my body is constantly thinking of the last time it had him?
I can’t stop picturing us together. The way his hands held my body so tight and my fingers tangled in his hair . . . urgh, maybe I should have a shower. A cold one. My dick twitches as if to tell me it thinks a shower is a really fucking good idea, but I think it’s wanting more than a wash down.
I head to my private bath and strip off, instantly spotting two distinctive red marks in the crease of my neck.
“That cheeky fucker,” I say as I lean in close to the glass. “He’s branded me.”
I play the night through in my mind again, trying to remember when he even did that. I’ve got a really fucking good memory, and the images have me so fucking hard, so I jump into the hot shower and take care of it, all the while thinking of all the things Reid and I did last night.
On the way to the rink, I pass the florist, You Grow Girl, just as the shop girl is pulling up the roller door and preparing to open.
“Good morning,” she says with a bright, cheery grin.
“Good morning. I didn’t know you were open this early,” I say, and she chuckles.
“Yeah, Ace will be here soon with fresh flowers from the farmers market, so I’ll be able to make up today’s bouquets.”
I glance through the glass of the shopfront window and spot some sunflowers in a display.
“Do you think I could grab a sunflower from you? I mean, I get you aren’t actually open yet, but—“
“Here,” she says, pushing open the main glass door and reaching inside. “On the house.”
She passes me a long-stemmed sunflower, its petals as bright as the bunch I bought Reid last time.
“It’s perfect, thanks. Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“It’s no problem at all, and I’m Queanie.”
“Good to meet you, Queanie. Thanks again,” I say, and then I leave her to finish setting up the shop as I head to the rink.
When I get there, a few of the guys’ things are in their lockers already, but Reid’s are not, and the room is empty, so I take my chance and quickly slip the sunflower onto the small shelf at the top of his locker.
I pull on my training jersey, and thankfully it comes up high enough to conceal the marks Reid left, but if I shower here after practice, the guys are sure to spot them.
Meh, I’ll deal with that later. I’m on the ice early, but not as early as I normally am, and Kirkston and Colt have beaten me here.
“You have a rough night, rook?” Colt asks, while cutting the crease.
My smile is immediate.
“You could say that,” I reply, turning, but not before Kirkston clocks my expression and skates after me.
“That’s the smile of someone who had a great night, so who are they?” he asks, and I love the way he doesn’t assume it was a girl.
“Who’s who?” I ask, trying to sound indifferent, but he grabs my arm and spins me to face him.
“Did you go out after the party? Man, I wish I were twenty-two or twenty-three again.”
“I’m twenty-two, actually. Not twenty-three until December.”
He shoves my arm playfully.
“Still younger than me. I’m inching up to thirty. You know what they say, it’s all downhill from there.”
“Reid just turned thirty, and he’s the captain, so you’re full of shit.”
“Yeah, well, he won’t be captain forever. Gotta retire eventually.”
Colt skids to a stop, sending snow into the air.
“Don’t say the R word,” he warns, looking around the rink like there could be someone or something listening. “You’ll jinx us and the season’s just started.”
“How does the R word jinx us?” I ask.
Kirkston rolls his eyes and mouths, “It doesn’t.”
“A few years back, New York’s center was asked about when his captain might . . . R word, and the next game he did his knee, and that was the end of his career.”
“I’m pretty sure that had more to do with the guy spending every winter snowboarding down every mountain he could find, than something his center said in a press conference the week before.
” I remember the game he’s talking about.
It was a brutal injury, his whole lower leg bent the complete wrong way.
I was sure the ref was about to puke right there on the ice.
“But how do you know for sure?” Colt asks, skating backwards, eyes wide.
I shrug, because what else can I do? Colt’s not as superstitious as some players, but who am I to risk Reid getting injured if there’s even the slightest truth to what he’s saying?
More voices draw my attention as the rest of the team skate onto the ice. Reid glances my way but turns his back the second his gaze meets mine, and my stomach sinks.
I knew I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed and talked to him, or knocked on the door and just looked like a total fool who’d thought about running away. Except I actually was, and did. Urgh.
I skate over to where he’s warming up with White and Dawes.
“It was a great party last night,” I say, joining them in side-to-side skater slides.
“Yeah,” Dawes calls back. “It was good. Did you score some cool gifts, Raines?”
“I haven’t opened any yet. I left them all stacked up on the coffee table to torture my brothers by making them wait.
They won’t dare open them for me,” Reid replies as he picks up speed.
I match pace, while Dawes and White drop back.
I’ve got about two seconds of lead time.
If I’m quick and keep my voice low, I should be able to tell him sorry for running away, or for not leaving a note, or not texting him. Fuck, why didn’t I text him? I suck.
“Can we talk later?” I ask as we reach the end and turn to start making our way back.
“Why?”
Great. He’s pissed. He’s definitely pissed. I know that tone. It’s the same tone he uses when I go rogue on the ice. I guess he doesn’t want to talk to me at all, let alone later.
“I could say what I have to say here, now,” I reply, and he skids to a stop, slowly turning my way, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other, and while he’s trying to give off an imposing annoyance, I can see the slight uptick of the corner of his mouth.
“Go ahead,” he says, glancing around the rink.
I skate closer.
“Alright, I was bluffing, but seriously, we do need to talk.”
“Okay, later.”
“Promise?” I ask, and he actually rolls his eyes. “What was that?” I laugh.
“What? Like you get to be the only one who acts like a child?”
“Well, I am a rookie.”