17. LANE
LANE
“You’re good to drive?” Troy’s question stings, but I get it.
“I had one beer,” I reply, clicking my seatbelt into place.
He pulls out his phone. “Just sent you the address. It’s not far. Once you’re done, come meet us at the beach. Yeah?”
I nod, still a bit surprised I’m included. The guys head off toward the beach. I shift the car into drive and let the navigation guide me to Cora’s. To my coach’s house.
Cora sighs beside me, arms wrapped around herself. I reach over and turn on the heat. Before I can pull my hand away, she leans forward and shuts it off.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering,” I argue, glancing over.
“You get a gold star for observation,” she mutters, looking back out the window. “I said I’m fine.”
Her voice has a sharp edge which means she’d rather argue than admit anything.
“Fine,” I huff, letting the word fall flat. “Suffer, then.”
She turns her head, shooting me a glare. “You’re impossible.”
"Whatever you say... but you need me.” The words fill the space between us. I love pushing her buttons.
Her head whips toward me. “You. Wish.”
I lightly press on the break, coming to a complete stop at the red light. Using the opportunity, I turn and lock my eyes on hers. “No, I think you wish. Especially after being out with whoever the fuck that was.”
“You don’t know anything about him.” Cora sits back in the seat but keeps her eyes on me.
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green.
“The guys knew enough. They filled me in.” At the mention of the rest of the team, the people she views as friends, she doesn’t say anything else.
From my peripheral, I can see her turning forward, watching the road in front of us.
She may not trust me but I know she trusts them. I bet it irks her that they seem to be on my side with this.
Her jaw works, stubborn as always. “Maybe I wanted a drink. Some company.”
I huff out a laugh. “Company? That guy looked like he couldn’t carry a conversation even if it came with directions.”
Cora sidesteps my jab. “I’m allowed to have fun. Go out,” she grumbles to only herself. The words are quiet and small and she’s still looking forward.
“Well, doesn’t look like you had much fun tonight. You forget... I know what you look like when you’re actually having fun.” Each letter is clear and emphasized on my lips.
She lets out a laugh, one that bounces between the windows. “You’re awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?
I push my bottom lip through my teeth. “You’d know about being full of me, huh?” The smirk that hits my mouth is one I can’t stop. It's her fault—she set me up for this one.
Shaking her head, Cora says nothing but crosses her arms even tighter across her chest.
I turn left and I'm on her street. She tells me to stop a few houses down; once the car stops, she’s opening the door and getting out before I can put it in park.
Following her with my hands in my pockets, she stops when she realizes I'm in step alongside her. “Can I help you?” she questions.
“Get to whatever house is yours so I can get the hell out of here,” I say, looking around, knowing we’re close.
Shifting her weight to one leg, Cora rolls her eyes, the light blue catching me off guard. “You’ve done enough.”
“Wow. That doesn’t sound like thanks for getting me home safe.” I walk forward, hoping she’ll follow.
The distance grows between us and my frustration starts to bubble over. I just want to get her home. Get this whole thing over with. “Listen. If you think I’m letting you walk home alone, at night, we’ll be standing here forever. Don’t be that stubborn.”
Her lips part, like she wants to argue, then snap shut. A flush rises high in her cheeks, and I can’t tell if it’s from the cold or something else entirely.
“You love telling me what to do, don’t you? The team is still freezing you out a bit so you push me whenever you get a chance.” She steps closer to me, putting a finger in my chest.
Quickly, I grab her wrist, holding her finger in front of me—between us. “You need me to be your punching bag? You can’t even hit hard enough to leave a mark.” My voice is low and ragged, quite the contrast to the neat lives that surround us—their massive houses with white picket fences.
Cora drops her hand and tilts her head, eyes widening like she’s finally hearing me. I swear, it looks like she wants to take the words back. Instead of saying anything else, she just starts walking. Her arms cross, covering her belly, and I follow close behind.
It’s quiet in her neighborhood. Everyone seems tucked into their homes and not a single car drives through as we walk.
I hate that she gestured for me to pull over so far away.
Not with her dressed like this, with a black tank top clinging to her.
I'm sure goosebumps pebble her skin as she pretends it’s not cold out here.
I can’t believe she didn’t bring a coat.
We must reach her house because she starts up the path.
Even in the dark, it’s fucking gorgeous.
It’s the kind of place that reminds me of the Knights’ house in Ohio.
It’s hard not to see a home like Cora’s and wonder what could’ve been different if I started somewhere like this.
I swallow back the dread and stop when we’re near the front door.
No lights are on in the house—it's almost midnight. A porch light barely glimmers, showing off Cora’s bare skin. It’s early October and the wind from the lake rips through like it has something to prove.
She nods her head towards the door. “This is me.” Cora looks to the door and then back to me. Her eyes are wide, pools of deep blue pulling me in. She presses her lips together, like she’s trying to keep herself from saying something.
“Great. Have a good night,” I reply, lifting a hand and turning to get back to the car.
A hand reaches for my shoulder, stopping me. “Thank you. For driving me home.” She keeps her chin tilted to her chest, her eyes only catching mine once—her thick onyx lashes framing them.
She means it. There’s nothing sharp behind her words, or the way her hand falls to my forearm, holding it like she’s afraid I might run away.
I don’t know what it is about this girl that makes me want to fucking melt where I stand.
On her doorstep. In possession of a car that isn’t mine.
In front of my coach’s house. Fuck, it’s damning.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, slow and controlled. Looking at her hand, and then to her lips, I realize I want to kiss her. It’s fucking horrible. She steps forward, limiting the space between us, her chest quickly rising and falling.
Cora doesn’t push me away. Her eyes keep drawing me in. My heart thumps in my chest and I’m convinced she can hear it. We’re only a breath apart—an inch from us pushing back against each other and giving in.
And then we hear someone on the other side of the door walking in our direction.
In a split second, Cora is letting my arm go, taking a step toward the door.
As soon as Coach pulls the door open, she jumps right in.
“Thanks for the ride. See ya!” She’s one step in when Coach realizes who's out here.
“Maxwell? What are you doing?” His gaze flickers back and forth between me and his daughter, like he’s trying to find the missing piece to the puzzle.
Before I can say anything, Cora blurts, “Thought I was getting a migraine. He offered to bring me home.” She shrugs, offering me a tiny wave, and is inside without another word.
Coach looks at me, tilting his head, and his brows relax when he says, “Thanks, Lane. I appreciate that. See you at practice.”
Maybe some luck is on my side because if he would've shown up five seconds later? I probably would’ve been kissing Cora like I've been dying to since that first night together. I would've been throwing away the only thing I can hold onto: hockey.
Fuck. That was close.