Page 66 of The Captain

“You’re not kidding. Are hockey players always so loud?” She scrunches her nose, and I grin.

“Yup. We sure are.”

“You’re not that way.” She frowns, her book now open in her lap, but she looks at me. “At least not around me. Are you different when you’re not around me?”

I shrug. “Not different, really. But you put a bunch of hockey players in one area, things are bound to get a little crazy.”

She fake shudders, and I laugh lightly. Then I nod at her book. “Still good?”

Cassie launches into an explanation about her book, and I find myself spellbound by the way she tells it. It’s different than when she told me about her own book, she didn’t have the same confidence that she does when she talks about others, and I wonder if that’s why she hasn’t been able to move forward with publishing it.

We sit in silence for a little while longer, and she reads while I take in the comfort of having her here. It’s just like it was, except we’re not touching.

Too bad there are two chairs out here, maybe I could have rectified the not-touching part of this scenario if I’d tossed a chair over the balcony.

“I wanted to tell you something,” she starts, closing her book and angling her body at me again. I smile and wait for her to talk. “I started sending my submission letters out.”

I quirk a brow, and relief shoots through me. “You did?”

Her grin is hard for her to hide, but she tries. “Yeah.”

“Any response yet?”

“No.” She frowns, and I hate it, so I quickly say something else.

“I’m proud of you, Sunshine.”

Her eyes meet mine again, and there is so much there—so much between us—that I have a hard time looking away.

“You’ve started the process, this is huge.”

“Thank you.” She pats her red-hot cheeks and sighs. “It’s scary, but I’m excited too.”

“Definitely. You should be proud, too. It can’t be easy to put yourself out there like that.” I knew what a big deal this was for her too, she wasn’t the type to gloat or boast about any of her accomplishments.

From the way I heard it, she wouldn’t even allow her mom to throw her a graduation party for getting her master’s degree.

“It’s not.” Cassie bites her lip, her gaze turning up until she’s looking at the stars above us.

I say nothing, not wanting to spoil the moment, wanting to keep her here as long as I possibly could.

“You know what it is?” she starts, her voice low enough that it’s nearly a whisper. “I’ve wanted it for so long—wanted to be a professional writer—that the thought of failing has made me hold back.” Cassie looks over at me, and I can see her swallow. “I don’t like the thought of failing at something that means a lot to me.”

Her words hit their mark, and I hold myself back from getting up and yanking her into my arms, from telling her that we haven’t failed—not yet.

“I get that.” I nod my head slowly, blowing out a breath and trying to compare her publishing dreams to my hockey ones. “I’m not sure what I would do if hockey failed or if I got hurt and couldn’t play. My whole life I’ve had one goal in mind, and that was to play hockey, to be the best there was on the ice.”

She furrows her brow. “But you are doing that.”

“I’m not the best.” I scoff a laugh, shaking my head. “Nowhere near it.”

“Maybe not. But you’re trying, you’re putting yourself on the path that could lead to being that.”

I shrug and run a hand through my hair, unsure what to say and not wanting to come off as boastful. Because she was just starting out with her career, and I was well on my way to mine actually coming true.

All I wanted was for us both to succeed. That’s it.

Too soon, she stands, stretching her arms overhead and letting me get a little glimpse of her stomach, the flower tattoos on her side peeking out, and I close my eyes, wishing so badly that I could take her to my bed. That I could hold her close, skin to skin, and keep having a conversation with her about what we want with our lives together.

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