Amelia
FORTY-FIVE
FEbrUARY, THREE SEASONS AGO
Snow has been falling for hours, and I take it as the perfect excuse to stay wrapped in a blanket on the couch where I’ve spent the majority of my week. The All-Star break has been relaxing, and I forget how nice it is to sleep in the same bed for longer than one night.
Stifling a yawn, I rest my head on the cushions. A midday nap sounds like the best way to spend my afternoon, but a text message distracts me from closing my eyes.
GE
I’m stuck in Denver another night because of this blizzard.
I could sit in the lobby of my hotel while they get a new room ready, but hanging out with you sounds way more fun.
If you’re free, that is! Sorry. Shouldn’t assume you’re not busy!
I smile and sit up, pulling my feet under me. Grant has been up in the mountains with his teammates the last couple of days. They spent their break at a cabin where they skied and snowboarded, and I’ve gotten dozens of photos of him in his goggles and bright winter pants.
My favorite was a selfie he captured on the slopes, an arm out at his side and his head tipped back with a grin. He wrote life is worth living!!! under it, and I saved it as his new contact photo.
It doesn’t surprise me that his flight is canceled because of this rough weather, and my thumbs fly across the screen as I type out a response.
Me
I guess we can.
GE
Jeez, Lia. Don’t sound so excited about it.
Me
We should absolutely hang out!!!!!! I can’t wait!!!! Come over whenever!!!!
GE
I’m going to pretend that wasn’t sarcasm and you’re excited to see me ;)
Me
Guess you’ll find out.
Are any of your teammates still in town?
GE
They all left this morning.
Ethan is going to the All-Star game with CCM, and Connor is giving a speech at his old high school. The rookies are too annoying to fly back with by myself, so I booked the afternoon flight that got canceled.
Karma for not being a good teammate, I guess.
Me
Wow. The universe really wanted to put you in your place, huh?
GE
Apparently!!!
Bright side: I’m at a Doubletree, and they gave me like, three cookies haha
Me
To answer your earlier enthusiasm, you can come over whenever you want. I’m just hanging out, and company would be nice.
GE
Yeah? I can be there in about thirty if that’s okay.
Me
That’s perfect!
Grant answers with a thumbs up, and I put my phone down.
A thrill passes through me at the recognition that what I’m doing is wrong, but I don’t care. I told myself I would take more risks this year, and Grant Everett is a big risk.
He shouldn’t be coming here.
He shouldn’t be coming here alone, and that’s definitely going to get me in trouble.
I throw off the blankets and stand, excited to descend into temptation once again.
Grant’s hair is covered in snow when he gets to my apartment. He shucks off his coat, scarf, and gloves, placing the stack of clothes on the hook behind the door.
“That was an experience. It’s literally a whiteout.” He shivers and rubs his hands down the sleeves of his hoodie. “I couldn’t see shit on my walk over.”
“You walked here?” I ask. “Why didn’t you take an Uber? Or let me come pick you up? And with no hat? You’re going to get sick.”
“I’d never ask you to compromise your safety for me. I’m fine.” Grant pulls me into a one-armed hug and tucks me close to his side. “Hi, Lia.”
“Hi. I’m sorry you’re stuck in Denver for another day or two.”
“I’m not. It means I get to see you, and that’s way better than a four-hour flight home.”
“We better make the most of it.” I pull away and point to the shoe rack against the wall. “You can take off your boots and get comfortable if you want.”
“I do want.” With the flash of a smile, he’s unlacing his shoes and putting them next to my sneakers. “It’s so warm in here.”
“You would be warmer if you had worn a hat.” I lead him down the hall to the living room where we both get comfortable on the couch. He drapes a blanket over his lap and leans back with a content sigh. “Are you hungry? I was going to make some pasta soon.”
“Sounds great. I’m not sure if I’ve had real food this week. Ethan forced us to order hot dogs at the ski lodge yesterday before we did a run down the mountains, and I think I’m done with processed meat for a few months.” He laughs. “I understand your aversion to glizzys now.”
“See? And you thought I was being dramatic.”
“I’ve decided you’re right.” Grant’s eyes sweep over me. “How have you been, Lia?”
“Really good. I never let myself take my foot off the gas during the season, and it’s nice to slow down for a week.” I rest my elbow on the cushions and tilt my head. “It looks like skiing went well. I don’t see any broken bones.”
“Coach would literally kill us if we came back to practice in a cast. We were only allowed to do green circle runs. Was it a blow to my ego when eight-year-olds sped past me and called me slow? Obviously. But I’ll take another Stanley Cup win over a run down a black diamond any day.”
“Meanwhile I’d be struggling on the bunny slopes.”
“I’d help you learn. You’d be Olympic-bound in no time.”
“How are your teammates? You said the rookies were annoying?”
“Annoying was the wrong word. They’re just excited about everything.”
“Grant.” I lift an eyebrow. “That’s exactly how you were as a rookie. I’ve never met someone who was so enthusiastic about sandwiches.”
“I know fine dining when I see it. And my teammates are good. Ethan hit on every woman he came in contact with on the mountain. Connor is hysterical.”
“He’s probably funnier than you, isn’t he?”
“Fuck off.” Grant pulls his hand out from under the blanket and holds up his middle finger with a deep laugh. “I’m plenty funny. You laugh at my jokes.”
“Maybe I laugh because I feel sorry for you,” I say, and a flash of jet-black ink catches my attention. I shift across the couch and grab his wrist, staring at the shape of a star in the very spot I drew on his hand a couple months ago. “Holy shit. Is that—did you really get a tattoo?”
“I told you I would. I didn’t even shower on my way to the tattoo parlor after the game.
” He strokes his thumb over the ridge of my knuckles while I keep him in my hold.
“I love that it can have multiple meanings. The media will think it’s an homage to the team and the guys I love, but I’ll know you’re the reason it’s special. ”
I suck in a sharp breath.
I have a permanent spot on Grant’s body, and it’s hot as hell.
Fuck.
I wish I could explain why I trace over the design. I wish I knew my reasoning for dragging my nails across his skin, touching each point. I wish I understood why the sound of his breath stuttering out in a strangled exhale is electrifying, but I can’t.
I can’t, and I wish I could.
“Why?” I whisper.
“I can’t touch you the way that I want, and I never would unless you told me I could.
” Grant takes my hand in his and lifts it.
His lips part, and a warm breath ghosts over my skin.
My entire body is alight with nerves, and he’s not even kissing me.
“I decided to start commemorating the occasions when you touch me.”
I swear time stops. A drum hammers behind my ribs where my heart used to be, and he lowers my hand until it’s resting in my lap. I want to yell at him to come back, to not let go, but the truth is there.
He won’t touch me unless I ask for it. We might be dancing over the line I’ve set for us, but Grant isn’t going to be the one to fully cross it. It has to me, and I don’t miss his flicker of disappointment when I look away.
“I’m going to get the food started,” I say, letting the daydream of what his hands would feel like on other parts of my body fade to a cloudy fog of nothingness. “Is marinara sauce okay?”
“It’s perfect,” Grant answers. His jaw unhinges enough to offer me a smile that downplays my rejection of him. “I’ll help.”
“You’re a guest. Stay here and relax.” I pop to my feet. The urge to reach out and rest my hand on his cheek is almost impossible to resist. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
Thirty minutes later, Grant and I sit at the kitchen table that overlooks the park outside my window. We each have a plate of food and a beer, and Grant moans around his fork when he takes his first bite.
“Goddamn. I’m glad I braved the elements to come over. This is unbelievable,” he says. “And from the woman who couldn’t bake a cake a couple of years ago? I’m impressed.”
“I’m not making my Top Chef debut any time soon”—I hum in agreement with his enthusiastic assessment—“but this might be the best dish I’ve ever made.”
“Thank you for the hospitality. I got a text that my hotel room is ready, so whenever you want to kick me out, I’ll roll on back with a full stomach.”
“You at least have to wait until the snow stops falling.” I pass him a napkin when marinara sauce splatters on his shirt. “I don’t need Brody Saunders coming after me because one if his players got injured in my care.”
“If I told Coach I was hanging out with you, he’d scream at me.” Grant snorts. “I’m not going to lie. It would be kind of fun to see him lose his shit.”
“I like him on my good side, so let’s keep this between us.” I twirl my noodles around my fork. “How are things with Riley?”
“So much better than they were. He’s been coming to book club and team dinners, and he’s letting himself be included in things. The team isn’t performing as well without him, but we’ll sacrifice some wins if it means having him around.”
“I’m glad to hear it. And your sister? How is she? I remember you said she was acting different a while ago.”
“She’s good too, and back to normal. I need to introduce you two. You’d like her.”
“If she’s anything like you, I’m sure I will.” I grab the parmesan cheese and sprinkle some on my plate. “You’re pretty great.”
“I wish you said that in a text message so I could print it out and keep it in my locker.” He looks up from his plate with a soft smile. “How are your friends? Lainey and… Sienna, right?”
“Good memory. They’re doing well. Sienna just wrapped up another season with her NFL team, and Lainey is on the same schedule as me with the NBA.”
“I bet the three of you would be great leaders. Add in Emmy, and y’all could take over the world.” Grant sets down his fork. “I ate way too fast.”
“That’s a shame.” I shrug. “I have dessert.”
“Damn, Green. I thought we were friends. You should know dessert doesn’t count toward how full I am.”
“Tell you what. It’s been a while since the two of us went head-to-head in athletic endeavor. How do you feel about a snowball fight, Everett? Winner gets all the cookies they want.”
“And what does the loser get?” he asks.
“A sympathetic glass of milk.” I rest my elbows on the table. “What do you say?”
“I’d say you’re going down, Lia.” He reaches over and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “And I won’t be gentle with you while I kick your ass.”