Page 6 of Not Because You Loved Me

My heart gave a soft, unexpected flutter. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," he replied, moving his hand to rub my lower back gently. He searched my face, his brows pulling together in that tight, intent way he’d been looking at me lately. "How are you feeling? You must be exhausted. You've been pushing yourself really hard since you got back."

"Honestly, I feel great," I laughed softly. "Working out always gives me an adrenaline boost." I paused, looking into his eyes, remembering Robin's advice to let him in. I usually keep my work stress to myself, but I tried opening up. "Though, work has been a lot this week. Two of the defensemen are dealing with lingering groin strains, and management is breathing down my neck to clear them for Friday's game."

Trent’s hand stilled on my shoulder. His eyes flickered with something intense, almost protective.

"You shouldn't be dealing with all that stress right now," he said, his voice unusually thick. He glanced toward the hallway. "Why don't you go take a break? Can I run you a bath?"

I blinked, taken aback by the gesture. "A bath?"

"Yeah. Epsom salts, warm water. Relax for an hour." He looked at me nervously, squeezing his neck, his familiar tell when he was anxious. "Is... is a bath okay?"

I smiled; was he nervous because the girls were right? He is trying to show me he loves me and is stumbling around blind because I am not meeting him halfway?

I went up on my toes, gave him a kiss, and said, "A bath sounds incredible, Trent. Thank you."

While the water ran, I stripped out of my clothes and sank into the tub, letting the hot water soak away the tension in my muscles.

Out in the hallway, I could hear him moving around. The clinking of pots, the fridge door opening and closing. I leaned my head back against the rim of the tub, listening to the soft sounds of Trent making himself at home in my space.

Some men show love with actions, not words.

Maybe Stacey and Robin were right.

Maybe Trent was just bad with words.

Maybe his way of saying I love you wasn't a grand declaration, but fixing my cabinet, running my bath, and cooking dinner after a long day.

When I finally wrapped myself in a plush robe and stepped out into the kitchen, the room smelled amazing. Trent had seared salmon in a skillet and was tossing a fresh green salad at the island.

He looked up, a rare soft smile breaking across his features as he took me in. He walked over, kissed my damp forehead, and pulled out a chair for me at the island.

"Sit," he said gently. "Dinner's ready."

I sat down, looking at the plate he set before me, then up at the handsome, hardworking man standing in my kitchen, trying so hard to care for me, and the last lingering wall of my defense melted away.

I reached out, wrapping my hand over his wrist. "Thank you, Trent. Really. I love… it."

He looked down at our joined hands, his thumb stroking the back of my knuckles, his eyes filled with what looked a lot like love.

"Always, Kat," he said softly. "I'm right here. You know that, right?"

There were so many emotions in his dark eyes, I couldn’t answer. So instead I smiled, nodded and took a forkful of the meal he prepared for me, completely ready to let myself fall.

CHAPTER 3

Trent

November 30

The first heavy snowfall of the season was coming down in thick, silent sheets, turning the gravel drive of my parents' house into a white blur. Outside, the temperature had plummeted. Inside, my skin felt as if it were on fire.

Kat was riding a team bus back from a road game in the middle of a blizzard, and I was spiralling.

She’d texted me three hours ago saying the highways were slick, and I hadn't heard from her since. My phone was sitting on the kitchen island next to my elbow, screen face-up, where I’d been staring at it for the better part of an hour.

Why hasn't she told me?