Chapter 8 #2
When I reached the stairwell, my phone rang. My agent calling about contract details. Nothing urgent. I leaned against the railing on the second-floor landing while we wrapped up the call.
The door beside me opened.
Haley came through, a bag looped over her shoulder. She stopped when she saw me.
The fluorescent light overhead flickered. It had been flickering for at least a week, the kind of thing maintenance would get to eventually but hadn’t yet. The landing was narrow, maybe six feet across, with concrete walls and a metal railing.
My phone was still in my hand.
She stopped beside me and looked up, her plush lips parting.
The knowledge appeared on her face before either of us moved. She wasn’t surprised the way she’d been in the hallway.
I slid my phone in my pocket.
She set her bag on the floor.
My hands found her face, tilting her chin up. A nudge and her back found the wall behind her.
Her hands came up to grip my jacket, pulling me closer. I kissed her the way I’d wanted to since the park bench, the welcome dinner, and when she’d handed me a sketch of Beau and looked at me like I was worth seeing.
She made a small sound when my ridged tongue found hers, and I pulled it deep inside. My hands slid from her face into her hair, tangling in the soft strands. She arched into me, her body fitting against mine.
I tugged her blouse free from her skirt and explored her infinitely soft skin beneath.
She gasped into my mouth.
A door opened overhead, and footsteps rang out.
We separated. She smoothed her hair and tucked her blouse back into her skirt. I straightened my jacket and lifted her laptop bag, handing it to her.
Whoever it was entered a different floor above, the door opening and closing.
We stood on the landing, both of us still breathing fast.
“I have to finish working,” she said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded and went up the stairs.
I went down.
The lobby was empty when I reached it. I stood on the tile for a moment, staring at the front doors, trying to organize the thoughts that had been piling up since this morning.
I’d passed up a favorable trade two seasons ago. My old team had dangled it in front of me. More money and better positioning on the depth chart. I’d turned it down because I thought loyalty would count for something.
They’d traded me anyway.
I knew how it felt to be wrong about a situation, to believe one thing and have reality present a different version. But I couldn’t be wrong about Haley.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out.
Brashe. The game you’re playing could get you benched.
Just that. No context needed.
I stared at the screen.
Everything between Haley and me was going to stop being private. The team had been watching, maybe drawing conclusions. Making assumptions that were probably accurate.
The coach didn’t know yet, but the clock was ticking.
I put my phone away and left the building, driving to my parking garage and leaving my truck. Entering my apartment.
Beau needed his evening walk. Our routine was important. Things like this kept the world manageable when everything else felt like it was shifting under my feet.
We did our usual loop. The park was quieter at this time of the evening, with only a few people walking dogs or cutting through on their way home. Beau investigated his favorite spots, and I let him take his time.
On the way back, I passed her building as she was coming out.
She had her jacket zipped up against the cool air and her hands in her pockets. She saw me at the same moment I noticed her.
Beau leaped around as if she was his long-lost owner, and he hadn’t seen her in years.
She crouched down on the sidewalk, letting him put his paws on her knees, and told him he was very brave and very handsome and that she’d missed him terribly.
She scratched his ears, and he flopped immediately onto his back, which he didn’t do for everyone.
When she straightened, our eyes met.
We turned and fell into step together, walking north.
We walked half a block without talking. It wasn’t uncomfortable. That was the thing I kept noticing about her, the silence that didn’t need filling.
We reached the corner where our directions split, and we both stopped.
She looked up at me, and I looked down at her and neither of us said anything about the computer room or the stairwell or whatever was happening between us.
“Goodnight,” she said.
“Goodnight.”
I watched her go.
Beau looked up at me.
I frowned down at him.
My dog offered no advice.
The apartment was dark when we got back, but I didn’t turn on the lights right away. I stood in the doorway and let my eyes adjust.
Her sketch still hung on the wall. The frames I’d purchased for her were still on the counter in the bag.
Beau trotted to his water bowl. I took the bag and left the apartment, crossing the street and taking the stairs up to her floor.
I leaned the bag against her door, realizing I’d forgotten a note. Well, I could explain if she asked.
I returned to my apartment, closed the door, and locked it. Then I sat on the couch.
Beau jumped up beside me, circling twice before settling on my lap. I scratched behind his ears, and he groaned, flopping onto his side and extending his tiny paws. His belly and chest got rubs next.
I’d kissed the coach’s daughter twice today.
I was going to do it again.
I was going to do more than that if she let me. I’d known this since the park bench. Possibly since the welcome dinner when she’d stood in a corner and talked to me.
I was not a male who lied to himself. I’d spent fourteen years playing professional hockey, being accurate about what I could and couldn’t control. My reads were good because I didn’t waste time pretending the play was developing in a way it wasn’t.
This was developing. It had been since she’d handed me a sketch and looked at me like I mattered.
I’d tried to stop it. Tried to be professional.
But it was getting harder to remember the reasons this was a bad idea.