Page 78 of Trade It All

I stop pacing. Plant both hands on the bathroom counter on either side of her and stare at her reflection. “You don’t know that.”

She sets the curling iron down and turns, slowly, reaching for me without hesitation. Her palms flatten against my stomach, fingers curling into my shirt. “I do.”

I huff out a breath that sounds more irritated than I mean it to. “Baby, seeing him is one thing. Me seeing him is another. I’m trying real hard not to commit a felony before puck drop.”

That makes her smile. Actually smile. And under any other circumstance I’d be proud of myself for getting that out of her, but I’m too wound up to enjoy it.

Her hands slide higher, smoothing over my chest.

“I’m okay,” she says quietly.

I cover one of her hands with mine instantly. Like I need to feel the truth of it through skin. “Are you?”

Her eyes lift to mine. Steady. No panic. No fear. No hesitation. “Yes.”

I search her face anyway because I don’t know how not to. I need to know if she’s lying to protect me, if there’s even one crack she’s trying to hide.

“What if he says something to you?” I ask.

“He won’t.”

“What if he corners you?”

“He won’t.”

“What if he even looks at you too long and I lose my shit in front of fifteen thousand people?”

That gets a laugh out of her. A soft one. And somehow that laugh eases something in me I didn’t realize was locked. She steps closer until there’s no room left between us and tips her face up.

“You worrying like this is very sweet,” she murmurs.

“Sweet,” I deadpan. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

She nods solemnly like she’s serious.

I slide my hands to her waist and pull her flush against me, needing her close because every bad scenario in my head gets quieter when she’s touching me.

“I’m serious, Maddie.”

“So am I.”

Her fingers come up and smooth over my jaw, the same way she does when she knows I’m one breath from spiraling.

“I am okay,” she repeats, slower this time, making sure I hear it. “And if I’m not, you’re there.”

That guts me. Because she says it so simply. Like it’s fact. Like of course I’ll be there. Always. My forehead drops to hers and I close my eyes for one second, breathing her in.

“I hate this,” I admit.

“I know.”

“I hate that he gets to even exist in the same building as you.”

That makes her laugh again, quieter now.

“I know.”

“I hate that I can’t put you behind me and tell the entire Denver team to fuck off.”