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Sleep still clings to my every word, movement, and blink. I wake up early habitually because I have to. Not because I am a morning person. His ease in snapping awake and being fully present is starting to piss me off. I arch a brow at him. “You gonna cook for me, Baylor Levine?”
“Will I get a reward?” The smirk he gives me settles some of the raucous emotions writhing in my chest since we got home last night. A dose of lighthearted playfulness even if he’s seen the most vulnerable parts of myself. Moments I’m determined to pretend never happened. The longer he goes along with that, the longer I don’t have to avoid him.
My eyes trail over his body, lingering on the waistband of his gray sweatpants. It would be a lie to say he didn’t look good enough to eat. Maybe I don’t need breakfast after all.
“Company is still here,” Wells scolds as he comes into the kitchen, a bleary-eyed Isla two steps behind him, dragging her feet. He moves into the kitchen, taking the pan out of Baylor’s hands and shoulder checking him out of his way.
Baylor only smiles, sitting on my other side at the kitchen island after Isla slumps into the seat on my other side. “Don’t mind if I do.” His hand finds my thigh and begins to trace patterns on my bare skin as I turn to check in with Isla.
The pain and regret in her eyes is enough to tell me everything I need to know. She recognized the smashed pieces as my mother’s pearl earrings. They weren’t her favorites or anything, but they were hers. Seeing the mangled pieces be all that were left damn near tore me apart. But I just…can’t.
Can’t go there. Can’t think about it. Definitely can’t talk about it. Not today, maybe not ever.
Isla knocks her knee against mine and settles her head against my shoulder. Everything that needed to be said in that one small gesture. She gets it. She always gets it. Knows when to push and knows when to just be.
The kitchen grows louder as the other guys join us, heckling Wells about his cooking. Beau leads the security guys out with a promise to call if we have any questions and that he’ll be able to walk us through the set up. When it’s just the six of us left, I tense expecting the questions, the conversations, the demands, but none of it happens. The conversations continue as Wells serves six plates while Baylor, James, and Beau argue heatedly about the merits of scrambled eggs versus sunny side up.
Tears prick the back of my eyes with gratitude for my best friend, her boyfriend, and this weird little crew that has seemingly adopted us. I take a bite of the toast Isla put on myplate and shake my head at the antics I’m secretly quite grateful for.
With each passing moment, the weight on my shoulders lifts just a little bit. Makes it easier to focus on the patterns still being drawn on my thigh, the pressure of Isla’s head on my shoulder, the laughter that rings through the room as loudly and surely as the insults that preceded it.
After we eat, Beau does explain the new system to us. We won’t be able to open our windows at night anymore, but it’ll soon be too cold to do so anyways. Even this doesn’t feel as strained as it should. As if this level of security is fully normal for a bunch of college kids. It does make me feel slightly more at ease. Like I could actually be safe here.
The exhale full of relief Isla releases makes guilt bloom in my stomach, turning it. Of course she’s been just as impacted as I’ve been by this whole thing. Had her space and privacy invaded upon, her sense of peace and safety disrupted. I should have been a better friend and checked on her more.
Nothing to stop me from making it up to her from here on out.
Who knew I would regret vowing to be a better friend almost immediately?
Taking a long sip of my coffee from my thermos I glare at Isla over my notes. “Remind me why we’re freezing our asses off here at the ass crack of dawn again?”
Her hands wrap tightly around her coffee, shivering under her blanket as she watches the hockey team skate around the rink. “Look how cute he is.”
I don’t even bother to turn and look, rolling my eyes. I can’t believe she’s convinced me to stalk her boyfriend with her. I thought I was the one with the stalker, but here I am, acting like one. “Not cute enough to be up this early for.”
She flips me off from under her blanket. “You’re up this early anyways.”
Sure. To run. Or work. Or get ahead on my homework. Or even to laze about in my pajamas in the warmth of the kitchen or Baylor’s bed. All infinitely better options than being at the ice rink. “Just explain it to me again,” I say. “Why are we following your boyfriend to his early morning activities? He’s already yours.”
It’s been almost two weeks since she extracted this stupid promise from me, but I’m still just as confused as to why she would even want to watch them warm up. And fucking hell when she drags me to watch them lift weights. Then again, at least the gym isn’t as fucking cold as the arena.
She shifts in her seat, not meeting my eyes. “The gym the other day wasn’t so bad,” she counters, deflecting from my question.
Only because I decided to wear my own workout clothes and get a good workout in since I was there anyways. The only reason it wasn’t a total waste of my time. I arch a brow and let my face say it all for me.
She huffs and points to my books. “You’re productive here.”
“And freezing,” I scoff. Guilt flashes over her features, instantly making me feel bad. I sigh. “Not that I mind subzero temps at six o’clock in the morning. If I could just understand why.” Dammit. I’m too soft. Everyone gives Wells crap for not being able to say no to Isla, but fuck if I’m one to talk.
She puts off answering me by taking another long sip of her coffee, rolling her lips when she’s done and just brieflymeeting my eyes before looking back to the ice. “I just want to understand hockey more before the first game.”
I sigh and drop the conversation. She’s said that before, but for the life of me I can’t understand how watching them skate in circles or lifting weights helps her understand hockey more. Maybe if it was their actual practices. But these are just like warmups. I never imagined I would end up spending the majority of my mornings with rowdy hockey players, but low and behold, here we are.
Baylor had already convinced me to just run with them on the days that they run in the morning. The days they don’t? Isla has us following them around anyways. “Maybe I should just join the team,” I mutter under my breath. At least the first official hockey game of the season is this weekend. Hopefully she chills the fuck out after it’s over. She’s more stressed than any of the guys are.
I spend the rest of their morning skate trying to finish up edits on a paper that’s due next week. I’m so engrossed in the task that I jump when a large hand lands on my shoulder.
“Ready?” If I could smack the smirk right off Baylor’s handsome face, I would. However, it would only amuse him more. I look past him to realize the team is already done and now trickling out of the locker room. Isla stands next to me, but is too lost in whatever Wells is saying to her.
