Page 172 of Power Play

“You’re leaving in less than an hour?”

Ryan’s expression softened at whatever he saw on my face. “We have a little under an hour.”

“I drove all the way here, and you have fifty-something minutes?”

A corner of his mouth moved despite everything. “That sounds like you’re blaming me for the schedule.”

“I might be.”

“That seems fair.”

He bent to pick up the duffel he had dropped and reached for my hand with the other.

The gesture was so automatic that it nearly made me cry again.

“Come upstairs.”

His fingers threaded through mine, and I followed him toward the elevators while Briggs called something behind us about them heading out. I barely heard it.

My attention remained on Ryan’s hand around mine and the fact that he never loosened his grip, even with teammates, friends, hotel staff, and half the damn lobby watching us.

Three nights ago, he had accused me of pulling away whenever someone else’s opinion entered the room.

This time, I didn’t.

I tightened my hand around his.

Ryan felt it.

His eyes dropped briefly to our joined hands before lifting to my face. Something moved through his expression that made my chest ache, but he didn’t say anything about it.

Neither did I.

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside together. Ryan pressed the button for his floor. When the doors slid shut behind us, the noise of the lobby disappeared and left me alone with him for the first time since our fight.

I had spent three days avoiding this exact moment because I was terrified I wouldn’t know how to explain myself once he was standing in front of me again.

Now I had less than an hour before hockey took him away.

For once, there wasn’t enough time to make the truth pretty.

10

Ryan

The hotel lobby had mostly emptied by the time I came downstairs after showering. A few Frost players remained near the elevators in team sweats, talking around duffel bags while everybody waited for the bus to Milwaukee. Cade, Briggs, Easton, and Rider had claimed a group of chairs near the windows, looking far too comfortable for four guys who didn’t belong to the team currently taking over half the hotel.

Briggs saw me first and lifted both arms. “The conquering hero finally arrives.”

“I scored once.”

“And behaved like you won the Stanley Cup.”

“You drove to Chicago to watch me play. I had to give you a show.”

Easton looked up from his phone. “You celebrated directly in front of the other team’s bench.”

“They needed to see it.”