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He laughs. “Yeah, well, I like searching for trouble.”
I don’t know what that means. And I’m not really keen to find out. But…
I make a point of checking my watch. “You’re probably needed back in the locker room.”
Knox grunts. “Yeah, probably.”
“What was it you said to me? ‘I’m between you and the door, and…’” I raise my eyebrow. “What should your toll be?”
His gaze darkens. “You want me to touch you, sunshine?”
I smile. “No. But maybe I can keep you here until you agree to sign the divorce papers?”
“I’ll sign them when you break the news to Joel that you’re still married.” He raises his eyebrows. “If you’re so confident…”
“Fine.” Shit. I didn’t really mean to agree, but he just makes me soangry.
His eyes flash. That’s the only warning I get before he grips my upper arm and forcibly moves me away from the door. Istumble in his hold, and I automatically reach for something to steady me. My fingers graze his stick, and I seize it.
It’s been too long since I’ve held a hockey stick. His is too tall for me, but still. I run my fingers up the shaft, to the tape at the top.
He’s breathing hard, glaring at me, when my brows furrow.
“You don’t tape your stick like this.” I flip it around and examine the blade. “What is this?”
This is—that’s?—
He grabs the stick back and picks up his fallen helmet. “Don’t,” he warns.
“No.” I follow him out into the hall, down toward the locker rooms. “No, we’re going to talk about this. You don’t tape your stick like that, Knox. I know you. But you know who does tape their stick like this?”
“Aurora, drop it?—”
“I do.” I push into the locker room right after him. “Did. Whatever.”
He wheels around. “Go back to your seat.”
I scowl. “We’re not done talking about this. Especially since you gave me eternal shit for it when we were kids.”
My dad kind of let me figure out how to tape my own stick. And as such, I went a little more tactile on the grip. And then it stuck. Although Knox had someopinionsabout it, every time he had to use my stick he complained.
And now he’s doing the same thing?
It’s almost insulting.
And definitely unusual.
“I want an explanation,” I continue, planting my hands on my hips. “And then I’ll go.”
He sighs.
“Dude,” someone calls. “No girls in the locker room.”
Knox flips him off, then herds me out. Which is probably good, because I’m not sure how I’d explain this conversation to Joel. Although after a quick peek around, I don’t spot my fiancé.
“There’s no explanation,” Knox says shortly, as soon as I’m out of the locker room. “Go away.”
I laugh. The door swings shut in my face, but I know better than to try again. It’s not my space.
