17. FINN #3
Knox heads toward Emerson immediately, because he has the subtlety of a man who’s done pretending he’s casual about her. Dylan gets pulled into a conversation near the bar. Ty spots Priya at a high-top with the women and immediately changes direction like a dog who heard a treat bag open.
Jace bumps my good shoulder. “You joining us, or are you going to stand here by the door all night and stare at Bailey?”
“I’m not staring. I’m assessing the room.”
“She’s the only part of the room you’ve assessed.”
I look at him. “You done?”
“Probably not, but I’m hungry.”
He walks off before I can tell him to shut up.
My shoulder aches under the ice wrap tucked beneath my jacket, enough to remind me the game isn’t done with me yet. I should head for the table, sit down, and let the trainer’s work do its job.
Instead, I look for Bailey.
And once I find her, there’s no pretending I’m going anywhere else first.
She’s at the table with Emerson, Jade, Maren, Sienna, and Priya, though Priya’s attention has already shifted to Ty, who’s leaning one hip against the table and saying something with his hands like he’s conducting a seminar. Priya’s brows lift. Her mouth curves, sharp and unimpressed.
Ty grins wider.
Bailey notices, too. Her eyes flick from Priya to Ty, then back down to her drink like she’s storing that for later.
Then she looks up and sees me.
Her gaze drops to my shoulder for half a second before returning to my face.
I start toward her before I can talk myself into playing it cool.
“Ladies,” I say when I reach the table.
Jade lifts her glass. “Tough game.”
“Yeah.”
“You played hard,” Sienna says.
“Appreciate that.”
Emerson’s gaze moves to my shoulder. “How bad?”
“Bruised.”
“Trainer checked it, right?” Bailey asks.
I look at her. “Hello to you too.”
Her mouth tightens, but not enough to hide the flicker of relief in her eyes. “Answer the question.”
“Yes. The trainer checked it. Moved it around, gave me ice, and reminded me that I’m not medically qualified to assess my own body.”
“You’re not.”
Bailey’s gaze drops to the wrap under my jacket. Then she pulls the chair beside her out an inch. “Here.”
“You saving me a seat?”
“I’m keeping you from hovering.”
“Thoughtful.”
“Practical.”
I sit before she can decide practical includes checking my range of motion in the middle of the bar.
The second I settle beside her, the noise of the bar shifts around me.
Ty is still talking too loudly. Jace is laughing with someone near the jukebox.
The TVs are still showing the last minute of the game, which I refuse to watch again until tomorrow when Coach makes us suffer for educational purposes.
But Bailey is close.
Her knee is angled toward mine under the table. Her hands are wrapped around a glass of water, not alcohol, because, of course, she’s the woman drinking water in a bar after checking whether I got evaluated properly.
I lean closer. “You know, for someone treating these three dates like a trial you expect me to lose, you looked pretty worried when I got hit.”
Her gaze cuts to mine. “I’m a nurse, and I saw that you were hurt.”
“So that wasn’t you gripping the railing like you were preparing to climb over it?”
Her cheeks warm, just a little. “You took a hard hit.”
“I take hard hits all the time.”
“That is not the reassuring sentence you think it is.”
I grin. “So you were worried.”
“I was paying attention.”
“Same family.”
“No.”
“Close relatives.”
She gives me a look. Sharp again. More herself now that she knows my shoulder is attached and not hanging by a thread.
I like her like this.
I like her too much, period.
“You rolled your shoulder after the hit,” she says.
“Occupational habit.”
“You rolled it twice.”
I pause.
She arches a brow.
Damn.
“You counted?”
“I notice things.”
“Apparently.”
“Also, you took another hit on the same side in the third.”
I lean back, smiling. “You watched me closely enough to know where I got hit, how many times I rolled my shoulder, and whether I favored one side. But sure, completely incidental.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“Because I was worried?”
“Because you’re pretending you weren’t.”
She looks away toward the bar, but I catch the curve at the edge of her mouth.
A small smile, but I’ll take it.
At the other end of the table, Ty says something that makes Priya’s eyes narrow with interest instead of annoyance. His grin turns slower, and whatever she says back wipes the smug off his face just enough to make him look even more entertained.
Jade looks between them and wisely reaches for a fry.
Bailey’s eyes slide toward me.
I lift my brows.
She shakes her head once, like she’s already regretting noticing.
A server drops nachos at the table, followed by fries, sliders, and something fried that Jace must have ordered.
The women shift plates around, and for a few minutes, the conversation goes broad.
Game moments. Bad calls that weren’t bad enough to blame.
Gavin’s saves. The post. Always the damn post.
I take a fry and refuse to look at the television.
Bailey notices.
“Hard loss?” she asks, quieter now.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You played well.”
“We did.”
“That makes it worse?”
I look at her, because she isn’t teasing now. Her eyes are steady, waiting for my answer.
“Sometimes,” I say. “When you play like garbage, at least you know what to be mad about.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight, we had chances. They had chances. Their goalie made one more save than we wanted him to.”
She nods slowly. “So there’s nowhere to put it.”
“Exactly.”
For a second, she looks like she understands that too well.
Not from hockey.
From life.
From all the times something has gone wrong without a villain to blame.
Her hand shifts on the table, close enough to mine that I notice the space between us more than I should.
There are plenty of reasons not to touch her.
The bar is crowded, the team is already too interested in my business, date one is barely behind us, and date two hasn’t even made it onto the calendar.
I touch her anyway.
Just the back of my fingers against hers, quick and quiet. A check-in, more than anything else.
She doesn’t pull away.
Instead, her fingers turn slightly, enough for mine to catch, and the whole damn night changes over a touch nobody else should even notice.
Across the table, Emerson notices.
I know she sees it because her mouth softens before she looks away. Knox sees Emerson see it, then looks at me. I give him half a glare. He ignores it with the calm of a man who has been happily domesticated and thinks everyone else should join him.
Ty is too busy with Priya to notice anything.
Lucky break.
“So,” Bailey says, still quiet enough that the table doesn’t pull us in. “If it gets worse tomorrow, ice it again.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And tell the trainer.”
I laugh under my breath. “I like it when you worry about me.”
Her mouth twitches. “You’re impossible.”
“Still bruised. Be nice.”
She looks at me for a long second, then reaches over and very lightly touches the edge of the ice wrap under my jacket.
I feel it everywhere.
“Better?” she asks.
My voice drops before I can stop it. “Getting there.”
Her fingers pause.
The noise of the bar presses around us. Music, laughter, plates hitting tables, Ty saying something that makes Priya groan and Jade laugh. The world keeps moving like Bailey’s hand near my shoulder isn’t currently doing more damage to my system than the hit did.
Ty appears at my shoulder with two beers, one for me and one for himself. “O’Malley, tell Priya I’m right.”
Priya turns on the stool behind him. “Please remember I respect honesty.”
I take the beer from Ty and look between them. Priya’s arms are crossed. Ty looks thrilled to be challenged. The air between them has that sharp, sparking quality of two people who think they’re arguing when everyone else can see they’re flirting.
Bailey’s knee bumps mine under the table.
On purpose.
I glance at her.
Her eyes flick toward Priya and Ty.
Told you, her expression says.
I lean back and take a sip of beer. “I’m staying out of this.”
Ty gasps. “Coward.”
Priya smiles. “Smart man.”
Ty points at her. “You’re only saying that because he refused to help me.”
“Yes,” Priya says. “That’s exactly why.”
Bailey laughs softly beside me.
The night keeps going around us. The team settles into the loss, not happy, not dwelling. Fans stop by. Drinks get ordered. Knox and Emerson leave early, holding hands like they’ve forgotten the rest of us are single and suffering.
Eventually, Bailey stands. “I should head home.”
I stand too.
Her eyes drop to my shoulder. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Act like you need to walk me out if you’re sore.”
“Bailey.”
“What?”
“I’m walking you out.”
Her lips press together like she wants to argue and knows the argument is weak.
“Fine.”
I follow her through the bar and out into the cool night. The rain has stopped, but the pavement shines under the streetlights.
Her car is parked near the end of the row.
We walk slowly, and I don’t try to fill the space with a joke. The bar noise fades behind us with every step, all the laughter and post-game talk muffled by the damp night air.
Bailey keeps her hands tucked in her jacket pockets. I keep mine to myself.
At her driver’s door, she turns to me. “Thanks for walking me out.”
“I had very honorable intentions.”
Her brows lift. “Had?”
“They’re getting less honorable by the second.”
Her mouth curves, but her eyes stay on mine. I step closer, slow enough that she can move back if she wants to.
She doesn’t, and that is all the answer I need.
I slide my hand to her waist and bend my head. The first touch of her mouth is soft, almost careful, but that doesn’t last. Bailey’s fingers curl into the front of my jacket, and the kiss deepens, warm and quiet and nowhere near enough.
When she pulls back, her fingers stay in my jacket for one extra second.
I look down at her. “Date two.”
Her lips part like she’s ready to argue, then she stops herself. “That wasn’t a question.”
“It can be.” I let my thumb move once against her cheek. “Go out with me again. Please.”
She studies me, trying for practical and not quite getting there. “You already got one date.”
“And I’m very motivated to improve my record.”
“You think date one went badly?”
“No.” I smile. “But I want the next one to be even better.”
She shakes her head, but the smile is there.
“Date two,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“Okay. Let’s schedule date two.”
I should play it cool, but I don’t.
Instead, I kiss her again, shorter this time, but not safer. Not with the way she leans into me before catching herself.
“I’ll text you,” I say.
“With actual details?”
“Some.”
“Finn.”
“Enough details.”
She laughs under her breath and opens her car door. “Good night.”
“Good night, Bailey.”
I wait until she pulls out of the lot before I head back toward the bar.
We didn’t win tonight.
But Bailey kissed me like she meant it.
And she said yes to date two.
For now, I’ll take that as a win.