"What's so funny?" I ask, an answering smile tugging at my lips.
"I think you're less dangerous in person than you are over the phone or through a vent," she groans, giggling again.
"Yeah? You think so?"
"Yes. In person, you're a weirdo stalker. But when you're hiding behind something, your mouth is a deadly weapon."
"Just wait until I get it on you."
She moans softly.
"You still flying in on Monday, beautiful?"
"Yes. Monday afternoon."
"Where are you staying?"
"Sophie offered me her apartment," she murmurs.
Fuck. I don't want her at Sophie's old apartment, where she and Harlan stay when they're in town. I want her right here with me. I want her in my arms and in my bed, where she belongs.
"Stay with me," I blurt.
She goes dead silent.
"Stay with me," I say again.
She hesitates for so long, I'm sure she's going to turn me down flat. And then, "Okay," she whispers.
Chapter Nine
Tia
It's amazing how much you can fit into one giant suitcase and a carry-on if you really try. What isn't amazing is how long it takes for said suitcase to appear in baggage claim…or how many people you have to elbow aside to try to haul it off the conveyor belt before it inevitably disappears around the back for another rotation.
I reach it just in time to see it slip beyond my grasp.
"Dang it," I grumble, hoisting my carry-on a little higher on my shoulder and planting my feet, determined to stand my ground so I don't miss it again.
Except, right as it reaches the back of the belt, it's snatched off.
"Hey! That's—" I break off, blinking at the gorgeous giant hauling it off the belt like it weighs nothing.
Briggs.
My heart does a flip before racing away. It's startling how intensely you can miss someone you speak with multiple times a day, but here we are. I've never missed anyone or anything the way I've missed him since he left last week.
Unless it's the Playoffs, I don't usually even watch Kingston's games. But I watched both of Briggs' games, just so I could stare at him in the net every damn time the camera panned his way.
It's ridiculous how giddy he makes me feel without even trying. Every time we talk, I want to keep him on the phone, just so I can keep listening to his voice, so I can keep feeling close to him.
A week ago, I didn't even want to come to Chicago. For the last few days, I've been dying to get here already, just to see him again.
And now, he's standing in front of me.
Gulp.
I think he saw me before I saw him, because as soon as he has my bag under control, he turns toward me, his head tilting. His denim eyes lock with mine, his expression intense. He doesn't look at me like anyone else ever has. He looks at me like he's staring at pure magic, like he's awed and humbled at the same time, trying to figure out how to keep it all for himself.
