30. Storm
“You all right?” I ask Silas, sitting on the passenger seat of what he’s calling my car as I drive him to the Denver Kings arena. Mr. Thorne did show up with tools to take a look at my truck last week. But when he saw this Range Rover parked right next to it, he didn’t look very hard.
I’ll pick my day to argue him on it since my car’s still out of commission and I don’t want Silas driving this monster of a vehicle more than he needs to.
Hell, he’s been picking Max up from school in Rose’s golf cart since Wilder set it up to withstand roads all around town.
Not to mention, the more I drive this thing . . . the less I want to argue.
Obviously, he’ll take it with him when he moves back here—to downtown Denver—but in the meantime, I can enjoy a smooth luxury ride.
“I’m all right,” he gives me a reassuring grin. “Just . . . sittin’ this one out.” He glances back at Max in the back seat and I know he was hoping he’d be watching him play tonight.
“You ever sit out a game?”
“Plenty. For . . .” he glances back again, “let’s just call them timeouts.”
Max chuckles.
Silas runs a hand down his face, suddenly sobering. “Don’t know how long this timeout will be though,” he mutters.
I shrug. “Well, I’m still excited to see you out there.”
He narrows his eyes, dragging them over me like I don’t know what I’m in for. “You should be.” He strokes his clean-shaven jaw. “I look damn good in a suit.”
“Oh, I know.”
We don’t come in the way everyone else does.
There’s no crowd surge, no pushing bodies or security barking orders. Just a quiet side entrance tucked beneath the arena and a hallway that smells faintly like ice and metal.
In front of me, Max’s hand is tight in Silas’s, his steps practically bouncing. “Is this where the players come through?” he whispers, like the walls might hear him.
Silas tosses him a smirk. “And other important people.”
I hang back a step, watching them together. Max clinging to him like it’s instinct. Silas slowing his strides without thinking. Silas’s team jacket hanging low but comfortably over my kid.
This version of him still surprises me. This version of both of them surprises me.
We reach a set of doors and that’s where things shift. Silas stops, reaching for me, fingers brushing the back of my hand almost apologetically. He knocks on the door with a sign that reads Ice Queens.
My heart stutters. He warned me he’d be handing me off at some point. I just didn’t think it would be this soon. The game’s still thirty minutes away—and he’s already in his suit so it’s not like he has to change.
A short brunette answers the door. She’s sweet, pretty, and bubbly. “Silas!” She throws her arms around him. He catches her with a low grunt before stepping back respectfully. “Hey Brit, got a favor. Can you get Pepper for me?”
She notices me, looking up with a soft smile. “Oh. Of course. Pepper, Silas is here for you.” She walks away muttering something about that girl getting all the players.
He turns to me. “Pepper will take care of you. I’ve . . .” He sighs, pointing to the door across the hall. “Gotta go in there. Meet with the coach and a couple of the guys. Owners are here today to keep the press in check since I’m back and I’ve gotta—”
“Storm,” Pepper cheers, flicking her gaze down to my side. “Hey kid. Love the jacket.” She’s in her red and white uniform, which Max scans like she’s a hologram that can’t possibly be real.
I shift back to Silas, setting my hand on his chest softly like I need to prove something. “No need to explain. I’ll be fine.”
But he doesn’t leave right away. Instead, he crouches in front of Max, eye level. “You good?”
My kid nods, gripping the jacket he’s wearing. “Do you want this today? For good luck?”
Silas shakes his head and straightens the collar around Max’s neck. “No, no. I need to wear a boring jacket today. I like you wearing this one.”
He straightens and catches the attention of a passing Ice Queen with a white smile and a lanyard swinging around her neck.
“Hey, hotshot. Good to have you back.” She brushes a hand against his shoulder.
Silas’s eyes narrow a fraction, not at the girl—but at the space between us, exhaling through his nose. Slow and controlled. “Hey, Tray.”
“Tracy,” Pepper acknowledges tightly, before letting her slip into the Ice Queen locker room.
Silas steps into my space, taking my breath away, then leans in to kiss my cheek, letting me know in no uncertain terms, he’s my hotshot. “Enjoy the game, Bee. I’ll find you as soon as it’s over.”
He disappears behind the double doors a few feet down. Still, it seems like he’s been swallowed by another world—one I can’t compete with.
A few minutes later, Pepper, Max, and I are cruising through the halls—Max and I having to practically jog to keep up with her speed.
She smiles and waves at guests along the way, glancing back at us.
At some point, she stops at a popcorn stand and mutters something to the guy.
He gives her a smile and a bucket of popcorn and two bags of M&Ms.
She waves us over through a set of double doors and we follow her into the arena. The moment we step inside, the air changes. It’s sharper, colder, charged with anticipation.
“You’ll be in good hands tonight. My brother-in-law, Levi, is here with the fam. They’re in Chase’s reserved seats right next to Silas’s.” She guides us almost all the way down to the glass, then slides us into the second row—close enough without being exposed.
“I’ve gotta run. Enjoy the game.” She waves to a family of three next to our seats and races back up the steps.
I recognize the tall man instantly. The cowboy’s traded his hat for a baseball cap but I’d know that sharp jaw and broad frame anywhere.
“Levi Reeves,” I say with a smile, remembering the Hideaway Ranch owner.
“Miss. Dalton,” Levi stretches, reaching to give me a quick hug.
“Nice to finally see you outside the barns. You remember Jackson and my wife, Tessa.” He places a hand behind the beautiful redhead with the bright smile, who I’ve only met once when they stayed at the ranch last year.
But Levi comes much more often for trades, sales, or just to hang out with the guys.
“Ah, this must be the kid I’ve been hearin’ about. ”
Max introduces himself like the well-mannered kid I taught him to be. And Levi shifts around to sit the boys together. Leaving me next to Tessa.
“First game?” she asks.
I nod, scrunching my nose.
Tessa waves a hand. “Oh, we’re huge fans. Here all the time. Sit with me, I’ll catch you up.”
I settle into my seat, wrapping my arms around myself, my fingers brushing the knit of my sweater while she walks me through the warm-up.
A small procession of men slip into place near the bench. Dark suits cutting a clean line against the growing crowd. The coach is first, familiar from the small distance.
Then him.
Stepping into the big space like it belongs to him.
Silas’s expression is stoic. One I don’t recognize. He nods at something one of the suits says to him, then quietly looks around. Several cameras are aimed in his direction, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s focused on the ice, players circling, sticks snapping.
My chest tightens for him.
His gaze rises to the fans with a barely there grin and I follow it.
The signs. So many signs.
WELCOME BACK #31
WE MISSED YOU.
His name stretched across poster boards. His number flashing in every direction.
Roaring swells when he finally flashes a smile. How can anyone see that? I can barely see it.
Tessa nudges me and points up. “Looks like your man’s stealing thunder tonight.”
I look up at the jumbotron. His gorgeous face blown up.
I catch his exhale, holding a humbled grin while his face is on full display.
He doesn’t linger on it. Doesn’t soak it in like one would expect.
That’s not the suit he wants to be in.
Oh, but he looks so damn good in it. Dark, sharp, clean crisp lines, broad shoulders filling it like it was made for him. His hair styled in that strategically tousled way. Jaw set, composed.
“So what’s the story with you two?” Tess prods.
I glance at Max, since I’m not sure how ready I am for him to hear much of this. He’s sharing popcorn with Jackson and dumping both M&M bags into the mix, talking and laughing at something Levi is saying. “We’re old friends and . . . seeing where things go, I guess. It’s nothing serious,” I lie.
Tessa looks over accusingly, then turns away, narrowing her eyes. “Well, I’m glad to see him finally make better choices. Never know who’s going to be in this seat next,” she sighs. “But I’m glad it’s you tonight.” She rubs my hand and it’s almost intentionally condescending.
My stomach drops and I look around. Suddenly very aware of the very thing I chose to ignore when I first looked around. Girls—women—everywhere, wrapped in his jersey. His number. His name across their backs. Some standing already, phones out, taking pictures of where he stands.
Possession flares hot and irrational in my chest.
I spot him again, his eyes lock with mine instantly. Like they’ve been on me for a while. He gives me a small grin and it causes heads to turn my way.
I exhale.
Tessa leans in. “Now why don’t you go grab yourself a jersey and show these bitches you’re here to stay.”
I turn to Tessa, slow, and she winks at me. “I’ll save your seat.”
I bite my lower lip and smile. “I’ll be right back.”
She straightens. “And grab some more candy while you’re out there,” she calls after me.
Minutes later, I pull back into my seat, an oversized version of his jersey pulled over my sweater, still stiff and new. Max’s face lights up proudly when he sees me matching his jacket.
And he’s not the only one.
I don’t look right away, but I feel it. Awareness, like a hand closing around my spine. I lift my gaze to meet his, knowing he’s watching me.
And he’s no longer composed. Something dark and heated flashes across his face. His lips parted as those blue eyes dip down my frame deliberately, before lifting to my eyes again.
The crowd explodes and I’m loosely aware of the puck dropping.
But he’s not.
It’s like he’s forgotten where he is. Like the only thing keeping him rooted is the fact that he can’t cross the space between us.
The message is unmistakable. This jersey did something to him.
The uninterested, restless version of him from moments ago . . . is gone. In his place is someone proud, controlled, and who knows exactly what to do with all that excess energy.
I swallow, pulse thudding low and fast.
Because if that’s what watching me does to him . . . I can’t imagine what he’s going to do when the game’s over.
I feel Tessa lean into me as she watches Silas, muttering low. “That’s my girl.”
The noise and crowd is still thick after the game ends. The Denver Kings won and I can’t help but wish that Silas had something to do with it. Knowing him, he’s not feeling the victory tonight—at least not the way every bone in his body wants to.
The man I saw tonight isn’t the same man I see on the ranch. The one who drags a hand through his hair, staring out over the fields like he’s trying to figure out what to do next. How to fit in.
When he can leave.
This man . . . despite not playing tonight . . . knows exactly who he is.
The energy around him was electric. Like the cool air itself knew he belongs.
And now . . . I know it too.
I just hope I can fit into it.
It’s almost symbolic that the jersey I’m wearing is too big for me because I grabbed the first one I saw, paid for it, and raced back to my seat.
Without thinking. Without wondering if . . . it’ll fit.
But it doesn’t mean I’m taking it off.
I didn’t watch the game. Not much of it anyway.
How could I when Silas kept pulling me in like a magnet. The way he stood, poised, humble, laser-focused. The way all eyes were on him tonight, like they’ve been waiting for him.
I know the feeling.
Heat curls in my stomach as I wait for him to find us.
Nerves too.
Because I know the second I see him, with that wide grin, hair slicked, eyes glimmering—I’ll wish I had those restraints again.
Because I’m so close to claiming what’s mine, it’s scary.