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“Oh… Okay.” He licked his lips. “Just, if you’re not—say so?” He gestured subtly around us. “I know we can’t really bow out of something like this gracefully, but if you want to step away, I’m sure we can come up with an excuse. A beer run or something.”
God, this man. How did I get so lucky?
I released his hand and wrapped my arm around his waist. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I think I’ll be okay.”
“Speak up if you’re not.”
“I will. I promise.”
A few minutes ago, I’d been flailing for an escape and would’ve gladly taken him up on that offer. But now that I was with him again…
I knew I’d be just fine.
Chapter 26
Tanner
The screechof my alarm pulled me out of a sound sleep. I swore into the pillow, felt around, and shut the damn thing off. Then I peered at the screen, and when my eyes focused…
6:00.
I groaned.Damn it, past Tanner. What the fuck made you think six in the morning was a good idea during the off season?
The weather report, that was what. It was going to be hot today, so if I wanted to get in a decent run, I needed to do it early. Stupid early.
Can’t I just be lazy? Practice doesn’t start for… for…
It was too early to do math, but practice was still months away. So yes, I could be lazy.
But I’d learned the hard way in major juniors that one lazy morning could easily turn into a lazy week. The next thing I knew, I’d be dying at the gym as I tried to cram a summer’s worth of conditioning into the two weeks before I had to be back on the ice. 0/10, do not recommend.
The memory of that hellish couple of weeks was enough to pull me out of this comfortable bed, though I did pause for a long look at Isaiah. He was still blissfully out cold, his dark hair tousled and his bare shoulders just begging me to run my fingers over them.
I curled and uncurled those fingers at my sides. There’d be time for us to fool around again later. For now, I was going to let him sleep while I acted like a professional athlete.
The morning was still cool, but with that heaviness in the air that suggested thick, humid heat on the horizon. Fortunately, the street was mostly shaded by trees.
The neighborhood was also hilly, which I preferred. As much as I hated running up and down hills, it was a better workout, so I put in one of my AirPods, turned on some music, and knuckled through it.
I encountered a few other joggers while I was out, too, including one who was wearing a T-shirt for Philly’s hockey team. Just as well I’d opted for a plain gray shirt and a pair of blue shorts with my major junior team’s logo on it. The Pittsburgh-Philly rivalry was less intense than it had been in the 1980s and 1990s, but it hadn’t completely gone away. I could handle some chirping if it happened, but it was way too early in the morning to run afoul of a fan who was personally affronted by the very existence of the Pittsburgh Yellow Jackets. Yeah, they happened. Nothing could ruin an outing like some jackwagon who acted like the team had pissed on his grandmother’s grave.
What could I say? Hockey fans were intense. Usually that was fun and entertaining, but not at ass-thirty in the morning when I was already hating life because running sucked.
“Come on,” I’d whined to one of my trainers a few seasons ago while running on a treadmill in his gym. “Running doesn’t help with hockey. Everyone knows that.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He’d grinned smugly at me. “But it’ll keep up your aerobic conditioning, especially during the off season.”
I’d rolled my eyes.
He’d made me run an extra mile.
I… didn’t sass him anymore. I also didn’t whine about running—at least not out loud. He was right, after all. Running didn’t help with my game or make me a faster or better skater, but it did help with my conditioning and endurance. So… fine. I’d run.Ugh.
I would say this about running—I always felt pretty damn good afterward. The runner’s high had never done much for me, but there was something about finishing a run that felt like turning in some monster of a paper in school or completing a pain-in-the-ass chore around the house. I didn’t enjoy the process, but I sure was happy it was fuckingdone.
Coming up the walk to Isaiah’s house, I smiled to myself. There. The running was over. An entire day ahead of me, filled to the brim with not-running.
My trainer had scoffed when I’d told him that once, but he’d chuckled and said, “Whatever helps you get the job done.”
