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A pinch in my chest has me moving on with this conversation. I don’t want to think about her right now. Not how devastated she looked when I pointed at her on the ice and definitely not how fucking awful it made me feel watching her purse those lips and kiss her fingers, knowing that the first time I get to feel those plump lips against mine, it won’t be real. It will all be an act.
Fuck.Enough. We haven’t even talked about that yet. That’s a topic for tonight.
“Hockey is always top priority to me,” I answer.
“I like that about you, Maddox. I can rely on you. It makes my life easier.”
I tense. “You’re welcome.”
He answers by pushing up into a proper sitting position and leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. Turning his head, he looks at me.Reallylooks at me.
“I talked to Alex and your father last night. It seems I was the last to know about your new project, but I’m here if you need anything.”
My jaw tenses when he refers to Braxton as a project, but I bite my tongue. “I appreciate the support. If that’s all, I have to say hi to my family before they leave.”
“Yeah, that’s all. Let me know if you need anything. Try not to miss any more practices. The team can’t see you getting special treatment.”
This time, I let my tongue run free. “Special treatment? You think me taking care of my family and getting myself into shit with the press is special treatment? Alexander did for me what he would have done for any of his players at my skill level. I’ve worked my ass off to earn his respect.”
His thin upper lip curls the slightest bit, and I prepare myself for a comeback I know I won’t like, but a set of footsteps behind me cuts the conversation short. I turn around and startle at the sight of Braxton in the dressing room, frowning at me.
“Sorry, your mom asked me to come find you because it’s taken you longer than usual to meet them, and security let me back here with this pass I got from your dad—” She lifts a laminated card hung around her neck by a lanyard. “I knocked on the door first, but nobody answered, so I came in and then heard you talking—”
“Braxton.” I cut her off, the corner of my mouth trying to lift. “It’s fine. I’m done here anyway.”
In my peripheral, I catch Coach moving toward me and quickly step into the doorway, blocking his view of her. I don’t know why I feel the need to protect her from him, but I don’t have it in me right now to question it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him before turning my back on him and closing the gap between me and Braxton. She looks fucking amazing in green, but I swallow the compliment that has inched its way up my throat.
I’m as stiff as a board, but she doesn’t say anything as I press my palm softly to her lower back and lead her out of the dressing room, leaving my bag behind. Her perfume tickles my nose, and the sparks attacking my palm become impossible to ignore. She shifts closer, and I don’t push her away. Not right now.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” she sighs.
I move her in front of me as we leave the dressing room, and my eyes zero in on the name and number on her back. It looks perfect, like it was meant to be there. My dick hardens instantly, and I quickly adjust it before she notices.
“It was good timing, actually,” I mutter once we reach the player-only hallway. My family should be waiting by the garage entrance. I would love to see a security guard try to tell Dad he can’t park there anymore.
“Your coach seems like an asshole.”
“He doesn’t think I deserve what I have. Acts like my dad has gotten me where I am in this league. Everything that’s happened recently is only reinforcing his belief,” I tell her, opening up in a way that surprises me.
“He’s an idiot and an asshole, then. You’ve worked for this. For all of it.”
“I know. He can’t convince me otherwise. It’s just shitty that he can’t be in my corner while we figure this out.”
“He’s just one person. You have the support of so many others.”
“You’re right.”
I glance down at her and pull in a long inhale. She’s let her curls run free tonight, and they bounce and bob with each step we take. Long lashes flutter over her eyes and sweep the skin beneath. There’s a natural flush to her cheeks that pushes through the makeup on her skin, and I ache to feel how warm they are against my fingertips.
She’s so beautiful it hurts.
“You’ve probably heard it a lot tonight, but you played really well out there. I haven’t watched a game in a long time, and I forgot how much I actually enjoy it.”
“Why did you stop watching hockey?” I ask.
She hesitates before saying, “It reminded me of you.”
