Page 98 of With the Assist

“Well, in that case…” Grayson stands and trails after her.

I shake my head. That’s not what I meant. Avery won’t change her mind no matter how much Grayson pesters her.

“Does he stand a chance?” Nathan asks, thumb stroking circles on my waist

“Not a chance in hell.” I find myself leaning in. “She dated a hockey player before. Damon Woods. He plays for New York.”

“That guy is an asshole.”

“Yeah, which is why she’s not interested in anyone from that world.”

“What about you?” He leans in, smirking.

“I’m not interested in anything with anyone.” The words stick in my throat, and his grin widens.

The group starts to fracture after that. People peel off in twos and threes. Wyatt pulls an Irish goodbye around the same time we watch Liam take off with a redhead that looks nothing like the blonde he started the night with. My teammates have all scattered, too, leaving us alone on the couch.

“You want to get out of here?” Nathan finishes off his beer.

The relief is immediate. “Yes.”

We grab our coats quietly, slipping out without announcements. The cold hits hard when we step outside, the noise of the bar muffled behind us.

I shove my hands into my pockets. “I can walk home from here.”

Nathan raises an eyebrow. “Then I’ll walk with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

He leaves his car where it is. I know immediately that I’ll be inviting him inside. My skin prickles with anticipation.

We start down the street together, our steps syncing effortlessly. Our shoulders brush. His hand keeps finding mine, then letting go, then finding it again.

“This is still fake,” I say lightly. A reminder for us both.

“Of course,” he says. “Keeping up appearances.”

I laugh. “For who?”

He glances at me, eyes teasing and warm. “Anyone who might be watching.”

Finally, when his hand finds mine, he keeps it there. The warmth of his palm presses against my own. I should pull away. There are no cameras or teammates. We have no reason to keep up the act.

But we do.

My pulse starts to skitter, anxiety tapping at the edges of my chest. I focus on the cold air in my lungs, the sound of our footsteps on the sidewalk, and anything else that will keep me grounded.

“Your game was insane tonight.” I tap my free hand against my jeans. “Chicago had nothing on you guys.”

He chuckles softly. “They got scrappy there at the end.”

“Scrappy is generous. And then you slammed that guy so hard, he’s probably still seeing two of you.”

Nathan glances sideways at me. “Worth the penalty.”

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Two goals. You looked unstoppable.”