Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
MATT
A niggling thought is keeping me from falling back asleep right now, but I can’t seem to pick it out of my sleep-fogged mind. There’s just something urging me to wake up…
Game day.
Ah, right. I try to keep track of the days of the week, but after playing this long my internalized schedule mostly consists of game days and non-game days.
And today is a game day, which means my standard routine is breakfast, team meeting and morning skate, lunch with Niko, home for a break, and then back to the arena to get ready.
Unfortunately my admittedly unfounded superstitions also mean there are a lot more little things too, but that’s the gist.
I normally follow my routine like clockwork, waking up to my alarm alert and ready to start my day of scheduled events. But for some reason I’m feeling groggy and unable to just get up. I flex my arm to fight the feeling and squeeze…something? Someone?
Ellie.
Oh shit, am I still at her apartment? I force my eyes open and yep, I’m on her couch, arm wrapped around her like even my subconscious couldn’t risk letting her go.
I’m on my back with Ellie’s head on my chest, her soft brown hair splayed all over.
Her arm is draped over my stomach and her leg is bent and straddling my thigh.
She’s sandwiched between me and the back of the couch.
Up close like this I can see the individual freckles on her nose and the little dip from the bow in her top lip. Her mouth is slightly parted and she’s breathing evenly. Still fully asleep.
For the first time in my life, I consider being late to the team meeting instead of the first one there. It’s not a necessity for the captain to be there early, but I like to set a good example for the guys—especially the newer, younger ones who might need ego checks after “making it big.”
Now that I think about it though, I might already be late. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet, but it’s pretty bright in here. Shit.
I very carefully use my free arm to grab my phone I pocketed before we watched the movie. A movie we obviously fell asleep during. I maneuver it out slowly and press the button on the side to check the time.
Dead.
No wonder my alarm didn’t go off. I turn my head toward the kitchen and squint at the microwave.
Nine thirty-seven. Well, fuck. I’m normally up at eight on game days.
And the team meeting starts in twenty-three minutes.
At least the practice arena is only about fifteen minutes away, but I still have no time to do anything but get up and go.
God dammit. I scrub my free hand over my face and debate how to do this. I know nurses work a lot of hours and I really don’t want to mess up her sleep schedule. But I also refuse to be the guy who leaves without saying anything, so I’m just going to have to apologize when I wake her up.
I kiss the top of her head and take a quick inhale. She smells like…vanilla? And maybe something floral. It’s hard to distinguish, but it’s fucking sweet and it’s reminding me of last night. And now is really not the time to think about that.
“Ellie,” I say lightly into her hair.
She makes some unintelligible noise and flexes her small hand on my stomach. Her brow furrows and I want to kiss that little divot between her eyebrows. Fuck, I already have it bad. I want to stay on this couch all day.
Ellie awake is…so many things. Stunning, unexpected, funny and sweet. Ellie asleep is tempting in a whole other way. She’s soft and peaceful, her warmth against me quieting some restless energy I usually can’t shake. The stillness right now is just…nice.
I sigh and kiss her head again. “Sorry, Ellie, I’m going to be late to my team meeting so I have to get going,” I force out.
She starts to rouse and slowly sits up, her palm on my stomach supporting her. That adorable sleepy gaze is going to ruin me. She yawns and I have to fight the urge to drag her back down onto me and go back to bed.
“You have to get to the bar for that?” she asks, eyes squinted from the harsh light, that divot getting deeper as her brows lower more.
Oh fuck. Fuck. How did I forget I haven’t talked to her about my other job yet? My way more important, way more public job. I don’t even have time to give her a full explanation.
Okay, it’s probably fine. Hopefully the cool factor outweighs the forgot-to-tell-you factor.
“The meeting is actually over at the rink—the one in Saint Paul?” I hesitate, unsure how to do this.
“I, uh, play hockey and it’s a game day so we have a meeting this morning at the practice rink before a quick skate.
I would skip it if I could,” I finish as genuinely as I can.
I would skip it if I could. But I don’t think that matters right now.
Sleepy Ellie is gone. In her place is a very alert and increasingly distant version of her.
“What?” She removes her hand from my stomach and scoots back a bit toward the end of the couch with my legs.
I sit up and swing them over the side, still keeping my torso facing her as much as I can.
“I’m sorry I have to leave. And I’m sorry I fell asleep last night.
I mean, I’m not sorry, I liked sleeping with you…
” I cringe at the shit show this explanation is turning into and take a breath.
“I just meant I know we didn’t talk about it beforehand and I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.
I actually slept really well next to you and I’m sorry I have to go so abruptly. I would prefer to stay.”
Ellie seems to be assessing me in some new light and I’m not sure I like the concerned expression taking over her face.
“You play hockey? Like, professionally?” Her voice sounds strained.
I’m not going to lie—when people find out I play for the Bears they generally don’t seem so…
put out. I was expecting surprise and, honestly, maybe intrigue.
But Ellie does seem to continually catch me off guard.
And right now, I think I am reading acute distress in her voice.
Is it because I didn’t tell her yesterday or something else?
I open my mouth to respond and then close it, instead opting to just give her a nod. Ellie goes a little pale at my confirmation and slowly gets up from the couch. I watch her walk to the kitchen where she gets a glass of water.
“Do you need anything before you go?” she asks with a flat tone.
Shit. I am being dismissed.
I get up and head toward the door to grab my jacket and slip my shoes on. How do I fix this? “No, I’m okay. I’m really sorry about this, Ellie. Can I call you later today?”
Ellie grabs a dishcloth and starts wiping an already clean counter. She looks up at me and holds my gaze. Something in her eyes sends a pit into my stomach, but I can’t name it.
“Sure,” she says.
I swallow and nod and then let myself out the door.
I’d love to figure out how to unfuck this right now, but I think I’m already later than I’ve ever been.
A fact that’s not bothering me as much as it should.
Not nearly as much as the fact that I might have messed things up with Ellie before we’ve even really started.
It’s not until I get to my car that I realize I never even got her number.