Page 96 of The Captain

Tanner comes out next, and Mick makes her way up to him, with Joey and I following along and Crew taking up the rear as well.

Tanner kisses Mick on the lips, a smile in place. He turns to me then and nods back toward the locker room. “Linc is waiting for you, Cassie. He’s gotta finish getting dressed, but he asked that I send you in.”

I blink and look at the area he came from. I’ve never been in the locker room before.

“Go on ahead, maybe meet us for a drink later?” Mick asks, giving me an encouraging smile.

I was grateful for her support, that she had helped me pull myself together, that she’d found me a jersey to wear, and that she told me to go for it.

“Sure.” I nod and start making my way down the hall. I run my nervous hands over my thighs, thankful I went for simple jeans under the jersey so I could do so. I turn the corner that the players always use when they’re coming out and am surprised when the security guard nods at me and holds open the door.

I feel like I’m breaking some sort of code by coming back here.

The hall is lined with hockey equipment—carts full of sticks, racks that have extra skates and helmets on them—and the gear that some players wear under their uniforms is there too, and I absentmindedly wonder who cleans it all.

The door to the locker room is to the left, and I hesitate for a moment before pushing it open. The locker room is brightly lit but mostly empty, save for a few staff members mulling around in post-game hazes.

I walk down the little hallway. To my left are rows of lockers, and I glance down each one, looking for the man that I came for.

Finally, in the last aisle of lockers, I turn and see Lincoln sitting on a bench, his head bent, lacing up his shoes. He’s sitting there shirtless, with just his pants and shoes on, his taut muscles on full display.

I lean against a locker and smile at the sight of him. “Don’t you know not to run your face into fists?”

His head jerks up, and I flinch at the sight of his bandaged nose, his upper cheeks starting to bruise.

But it’s as if he feels no pain when he stands and quickly makes his way to me. Before I can blink, his mouth is on mine, his arms wrap around my lower back, and I let my hands slide over his bare shoulders, holding him to me.

His mouth moves over mine carefully, and I try not to bump his nose. After a moment, though, he pulls away, gasping and smiling. “I can’t really breathe right now.”

I laugh at him and gently trace my finger over his bruising. “Poor little hockey player.”

“I know, I need you to fix me,” he says, leaning in for another kiss. I give it to him. I give everything to him because, for the first time in months, I feel like I’m finally in the right place. Both mentally and physically.

“I don’t know if I can fix you,” I say, intending to make a joke, but he cuts me off.

His eyes look into mine, his expression serious. “You can. You do. You fix everything for me, Sunshine.”

If words could make you melt…

“I’m sorry I never replied to your text. I was getting myself together.”

“You can take whatever time you need,” he replies, his arms still firmly around me.

“I don’t want to make you wait anymore,” I start, staring into his eyes. “I don’t want to wait anymore.” I brush the hair that falls onto his forehead out of the way. “I love you, Lincoln.”

His eyes fall shut, and his forehead comes down to rest on mine. His grip around me tightens. “I’ve dreamed of you saying that to me.” His fists grip the jersey at my sides, and I open my eyes to look at him. “And I’ve dreamed of you wearing my jersey.”

I laugh with him, letting myself relax into his hold as he looks at me like I hold his heart in my hands.

And maybe I do, because he holds mine in his.

“Come on, Captain,” I say, stepping back and gesturing for him to grab his things. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you can see me in just your jersey.”

His eyes widen, and a smirk crosses his face, then he bends and puts his shoulder into my stomach, making me squeal when he hauls me over it.

“Muscles! You’re not even wearing a shirt.”

“Eh.” He smacks me on the ass playfully. “Why make more work for later?”

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