Chapter Fifteen
Sadie
The ride home is painfully quiet. Sure, Rowdy Ray yells at us via his podcast, but strangely his voice only serves to amplify the fact that Leo and I haven’t said a word since I hopped into his truck.
When his hands are on me, I become a woman possessed.
But every passing second serves to remind me how badly I’ve messed up by letting that happen. I should’ve been more responsible.
Why am I completely consumed by a player? Someone whose career, future, and day-to-day life are impacted by my every decision? If that woman who almost walked in on us was a hockey fan, knew who Leo and I were, knew I was hiding in the stall—
I can’t even let myself go there.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say.
A muscle in his jaw jumps, illuminated by the blue light of the console. “You are?”
No. “Yes.” I swallow. “I was irresponsible. I never should’ve let—”
“Don’t.” He shakes his head once. “I get it. No need to discuss it.”
The finality in his phrasing stings, even if I’m the one who brought this up. He just started opening up to me, and now he’s completely shutting down on me.
I deserve that. I’m a mess, and I need to sleep this off.
After watching the trees whip past in a dark blur, I’ve never been more conflicted at the sight of my own mailbox or my long, curved driveway that leads us to my house.
I need to get away from him.
I don’t want him to go.
“Thanks for the ride. And the bar.” My hand is on the door handle before he even puts it in park. “Taking me there, I mean. It’s a hidden gem.”
He gives me a half-assed nod. “Cleo will be a friend to you, if you ever feel like making this trek on your own.”
Another carefully phrased and utterly final sentiment. I can tell I’m being dismissed. “Cool. Good night.”
“Night, Coach.”
I whip my head toward him. He’s still not looking my way.
Is that technically my title? Yes.
Do I also want to smack the word “coach” and the sassy tone he used out of his mouth? Also yes.
“You don’t have to be such a dick, you know,” I inform him, throwing open the truck door. “This isn’t easy for me. I’m just trying to be—”
“Responsible. Yes, you’ve mentioned that.”
I glare over my shoulder. “I’m in a position where my decisions could hurt you. I do not take that lightly.”
“I’m a big boy, Rivers. I can take whatever you throw at me at work. You think I’d put you in a shitty position with Jax by throwing a fit if you don’t show me favoritism? That I’d ever blow our cover in the first place?”
“Well, no. Of course not. But I’m taking away the complicating factor.”
“And I get no say.” He shakes his head, dragging his hand down his face before letting out an irritated sigh. “Don’t you ever get tired of calling all the shots?”
A scoff explodes from my mouth. “Of course I do! But at the end of the day, I’d be the one people blame if this got out.
You’d walk away unscathed. I’d be the laughingstock of the league.
More than I already am. They blame me for everything, you know.
Even when we win, I still hear all the voices calling it a one-off, a fluke, a victory in spite of me.
The playoffs still feel out of reach. No one believes I can do this.
Not even my own team. And I’m terrified they might be right. ”
But should I be complaining about this, ever?
No. Because people will say I’m whiny, ungrateful, undeserving, can’t hack it.
Just like I can’t celebrate too much when we do something right, because then I’m conceited, an insufferable know-it-all, or taking credit for what the athletes themselves did.
I cannot win.
Leo is staring at me, his expression inscrutable.
I should take it all back. He wanted to enjoy a night out, not endure his coach shoving all her deepest, darkest insecurities into a T-shirt cannon to fire at his face.
“Speaking of tired,” I grumble, jumping out and slamming the heavy door behind me.
My large driveway is uneven, damp dirt and dead leaves banked in the space between stones. I’m careful not to trip while wishing I could sprint inside to put as much distance between Leo and me as possible to get my head back on straight.
My ability to stay cool under pressure and never let them see me sweat is one of my superpowers. I can’t afford to lose it, not even when he’s getting under my skin.
Or worse, making me feel safe.
I march up the stairs and type in the lock code. My finger slips and the whole thing beeps aggressively, indicating I’ll need to start over. A shiver cascades down my arms as I remember far too late that I left my jacket on his back seat. I’m not turning around to get it now.
Leaves and twigs crunch beneath heavy footfalls.
His frustrated exhales grow closer. The air shifts as I feel him coming.
But I refuse to turn around and look at him. “Leo, please—”
“I do.”
My nervous system is full of Pop Rocks right now, and speaking to him feels like chugging Sprite. I close my eyes and exhale. “What?”
“I believe in you,” he grits out. “You worry you can’t do this job.” The porch rumbles as he takes the rickety stairs toward me. “But guess what?”
I am painfully aware of him, of our proximity, of how flimsy I feel after saying too much. But despite my better judgment, I give up the fight with my keypad and slowly turn.
Those soulful eyes pin me in place as soon as I glimpse his face. He’s so handsome it hurts.
“What?” I finally whisper.
“You already are.” He steps into my space, all heat and strength and wintry pine.
His gaze holds mine and doesn’t let go. Doesn’t relent.
“You’re doing the damn job, and you’re doing it better than any of those nameless”—he moves my hair behind my shoulder, dusting his knuckles over my neck—“faceless cowards on the internet, or any person on our team, or on Fury staff, could ever dream of doing it.”
I nearly keel over at the feel of his fingers.
“Could they try?” he murmurs. “Sure. But would I put my money on you, an Olympian who I’ve studied for a decade?
Who isn’t afraid to call me or anyone else out on our bullshit—while still caring more for these men and this team than anyone ever has?
” He cups my face with both hands, strong and sure. “Yeah, Rivers. I think I will.”
His speech briefly robs me of my ability to speak. He listened to every word I said in my office that day I made him captain.
Remembered them so completely he could quote them back to me.
My voice is small, almost cartoonish in disbelief when it finally comes out. “You studied me, too?”
“I haven’t stopped. After I met you in juniors and you turned out to be an insufferably hot know-it-all, I followed your career.
The whole damn hockey world followed your career.
” The air between us shimmers as his gaze devours me.
“And now? I can’t stop thinking about you.
I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried. You’re everywhere.
You are this whole town for me. I came to Portland for me, but I feel like I’m staying for you.
This isn’t how I should fucking feel about my coach. ”
My eyes burn as I search for the right thing to say to make this all better.
“But,” he says slowly, “when I turn around and get back in the truck, I intend to bury those feelings. I’ve gotten pretty goddamn good at that. I just couldn’t let you walk in that house without understanding that you, Sadie, are remarkable—”
I yank him down by the collar, sealing our mouths together, sinking into his kiss. We pick up where we left off, as if the hour since we last touched were just a hitched breath, the smallest record skip.
I’ve always been Rivers to him, but he just called me Sadie.
And that’s who I want to be tonight. Just Sadie. A woman who can take what she wants.
This time, I’m not holding back.
His tongue slides over mine, seeking, deepening until he possesses my mouth. As if someone cut the leash on his hands, they spring to life, roaming my body, roughly exploring my sides, hips, lower back, and neck, where his thumb flirts gently with the column of my throat.
“I’m not just inviting you inside because you said nice things, but…” I murmur, already breathless.
“Nah. You’re doing it because you’re tired of pretending this isn’t inevitable.”
He spins my body and crowds my space, his front pressed firmly to my back. I gasp. My hands brace on my cold door and every thought leaves my head. His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Though maybe you need to hear those things more often. How fucking good you are.”
A furious blush breaks over my cheeks that I’m grateful he can’t see. My body is on fire with awareness, flames licking up and down my spine.
“Sadie.” He grips my hips with two firm hands.
I hinge at the waist, just slightly. “I was just pointing you in the right direction to enter in your code. But if you’re giving me permission”—he smooths his hands over the supple leather of my skirt before hiking it up a little to expose the bottom of my ass—“I’ll never say no. ”
His brazenness makes me feel drunk. That tone—his urgency—has me frantic for more, even as a frigid gust of wind bites at my skin.
These clothes don’t provide warmth, but if he stripped me here and now, well, I wouldn’t say no.
I picked a house with a private driveway and tree-lined perimeter for a reason.
Not this reason, but it’s a good fringe benefit.
“You’re freezing,” he murmurs, his hand still exploring. “Let’s take this inside.”
I enter my code with a shaky hand. His mouth finds the crook of my neck as his arm bands around my waist to keep me close.
Despite those all-consuming distractions, I manage to unlock the door and shove it open.
He hauls me inside like a bear. My feet barely touch the ground as he holds me against his chest. In a few massive steps, we reach the kitchen table. He turns me to face him and deposits me on the edge. We kiss and bite and kiss again until tingles shoot down my arms.