“Right. Inside.” She doesn’t move from my lap. “That’s the responsible thing to do.”
We stare at each other. Her eyes are dark, her cheeks flushed. She’s still straddling me, still pressed against the evidence of exactly how much I want her.
“One more minute,” she whispers.
“Win—”
She kisses me again. Slower this time. Deeper. Like she’s memorizing the shape of my mouth, the taste of my tongue.
When she finally pulls back, we’re both trembling.
“Okay.” She takes a shaky breath. “Now I can be responsible.”
She climbs off my lap—gracelessly, nearly elbowing me in the face—and opens the passenger door. The cold air rushes in, a slap of reality that helps clear my head.
She pauses, one foot on the pavement, and looks back at me with those impossible eyes.
“Happy birthday, Banks,” she says softly.
Then she’s gone, disappearing into her building, leaving me alone in my truck, gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline.
I sit there for a long time.
Thirty years old. Three decades on this planet.
For the first time, I’m starting to think my next birthday might be worth looking forward to.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Crumbling
Banks
“We need to talk.”
Four words I’ve learned to dread.
My agent, Rick Castille, sits across from me in a coffee shop near the arena. He has that look on his face—the one he wears when he’s about to deliver bad news and wants me to stay calm.
I’m not going to stay calm.
“Then talk,” I say.
Rick takes a sip of his overpriced latte, stalling. He’s been my agent for eight years. He negotiated my first real contract, handled both trades, got me the deal I’m currently playing under. He’s good at his job.
Right now, I want to throw his latte in his face because he’s acting cagey as hell.
“The Knights are hesitant to re-sign,” he finally says.
The words land like a punch to the gut. I keep my face neutral. “Hesitant how?”
“They’re concerned about your age, yourinjury history, and the cap hit.” He sets down his cup. “You’re thirty now, Banks. You’ve got a lot of miles on your body. The shoulder injury last year, the knee the year before—teams notice that stuff. It all adds up.”
“I played seventy-eight games last season.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been healthy all year.”
