Page 28 of Resist

“You feel okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s not the worst beating I’ve ever had.”

Every time she mentioned being hurt before, Coulton’s chest tightened. “Your brother?”

Ainsley shook her head. “Mick. But I don’t want to…” She closed her mouth and looked away.

Coulton let the subject drop there. “I’m glad you’re okay physically, but I meant emotionally. Last night was scary as fuck.”

Ainsley didn’t look at him when she said, “I’m fine,” in a way that told him she was lying. And while he didn’t know her well, he was getting very good at reading her expressions. This one was telling him she was finished talking about the attack.

She proved it when she turned the conversation to him. “Do you like playing hockey?”

“I love it,” he replied. “Greatest job on the planet.”

“I guess you travel a lot.”

Coulton nodded. “We play over forty away games each season, and when you add in exhibitions and playoffs, it’s even more.”

“Must be cool to see so much of the country. I’ve never even been out of Maryland.”

Just like she’d never had a bath. That confession had thrown him for a loop last night. And it made Coulton want to know what else she’d never had, overwhelmed him with the desire to expose her to all the amazing things in life that she’d missed out on.

Like baths and travel.

Coulton rose to grab the coffeepot, refilling her cup and his. “Truth of the matter is, I see very little of the cities we travel to apart from the hotels and the arenas.”

“That’s a shame.”

“What’s a shame is never leaving Maryland,” he replied.

She shrugged, which Coulton was quickly learning was a tell for Ainsley. She shrugged whenever she was uncomfortable.

“I have done a fair bit of traveling, though,” he continued. “During the off-season, I usually plan a nice vacation, either to do some hiking and fishing in the national parks or tour around Europe.”

“Wow. Europe.”

“You ever think about traveling? Have a dream vacation spot?”

She shook her head, her eyes glued to her plate. “No time. Or money,” she added softly before picking up her fork, speed-eating again. This whole conversation had been a minefield.

Rather than risk her trying to cut and run, he changed the subject again. She couldn’t eat if she was talking. “Tell me about your tattoos.”

Ainsley tilted her head. “What do you want to know?”

“I’m curious why you chose them? Like that birdcage. What made you get that one?” Coulton had wondered about that tattoo since first spotting it.

Ainsley bit her lower lip, and he was afraid maybe he’d chosen the wrong subject again.

“I got it when I was eighteen. Because of my mom.”

Coulton didn’t know much about Ainsley’s family beyond the fact her dad was sick, her brother had a gambling problem, and they were both assholes. She hadn’t mentioned her mom.

“She left when I was six,” Ainsley continued, suddenly fascinated by her coffee cup.

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him that shrug. “To be honest, I don’t remember her very well. My memories of her are more feelings than actual events.”

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