Page 40 of Unleashed

“Getting crispy. A good grilled cheese needs to be crispy on the outside.” My fingers tightened on the spatula, anger burning in my gut at the thought of industry vultures circling her. Then Malone descending on the carcass of her career. Exploiting her drive, her hunger to succeed.

A cranky meow broke through my spiraling thoughts. Bright glared from his perch on the island counter, his smooshed face radiating feline judgment.

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrow at Sutton. “What happened to ‘he’s not allowed on the counters when there’s food’?”

Her laugh—soft and real, without the Hollywood polish—curled low in my belly. “No food up here. He follows rules.” Her eyes sparkled. “Unlike certain pushy hockey players in my kitchen.”

The teasing in her voice did dangerous things to my control. “Didn’t hear you complaining about pushy earlier.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she held my gaze. “Maybe I’m losing my edge. I used to be better at keeping my guard up.”

Something in her voice—that hint of vulnerability she seldom revealed—made my chest tight. Made me want to drag her close, show her she didn’t need to keep her guard up. Not with me.

Instead, I flipped the sandwich, letting the sizzle of butter in the pan fill the silence between us. Safer than acting on the urge to touch her. To protect her from everything that had made her build those defenses in the first place.

She’d burrowed under my skin and she wasn’t retreating. She was fragile and I sensed I needed to tread carefully, but she hadn’t retreated from a real conversation.

I slid the perfectly golden sandwich onto a plate, passed it over. “Give it a minute, Hollywood, or the cheese will burn your tongue. We can’t have that.” I turned the stove off and set the pan aside. I moved to stand between her legs, my hands smoothing over the silk of her thighs, and whispered into the curve of her ear. “You gonna let me slip past your guard?”

Her laugh rippled through me, warm, effortless, the kind that sank into my bones. She pressed a hand against my chest, not pushing me away—just holding me there, like she needed the space but didn’t really want it. That smile—her real one, not the Hollywood polish—lit up her eyes. Felt like a goddamn victory.

She tore off a corner, steam curling up as gooey cheese stretched between the halves. That little smile of hers hit me dead center, a punch straight to the chest.

“I mean,” she said, lifting a brow, “having a stud of a hockey player make me a grilled cheese in the middle of the night? Definitely not on my bingo card.”

“Sometimes following the playbook isn’t the answer.”

“Maybe that’s why I feel...” She trailed off, her pretty eyes darting away.

“Feel what?”

“Hopeful.” The word came out barely above a whisper, something raw and vulnerable in her voice that made my chest tight. “Like maybe things aren’t as bad as I think. Like maybe I can make it to the other side and this mess will have been worth it.”

Her words landed deep, settling beneath my ribs like they belonged there. Shit timing—playoffs looming, my knee screaming, her show stirring up the locker room—but we’d figure it out. I’d spent seventeen years not knowing what my life was missing. I could hold out a little longer. Just until the season wrapped. Just until I said goodbye to hockey.

Because standing here in her tiny kitchen, wearing nothing but boxers while she wore my shirt? This felt more real than anything I’d known in years.

I tugged the plate from her unresisting hands. “This one’s for Bright.”

Leaning across the narrow space, I set the half-eaten grilled cheese on the island for her cat, then turned back to the only thing that mattered. My girl. I kissed her slow, deep, letting it root me in the moment. Her fingers curled into my hair; her legs cinched tighter around my waist. The citrus-spice scent of her skin wrapped around me, mixing with butter and toasted bread, with want and warmth and everything I hadn’t known I needed.

She mewled a protest when I lifted her from the counter and headed back to the bedroom. Her laugh wrapped around me like a caress. “Guess you’ll have to make another one for me later, huh?”

“If you earn it,” I growled, but couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

This is what I’d been missing. Not just someone to come home to, but someone who made home feel possible. Who saw past the C on my jersey to the man beneath.

Who made midnight grilled cheese taste like forever.

Chapter Thirteen

Viggy

Hockey Rule #36: Respect the game

Media Rule #36: Respect the algorithm

Lily’sdarkhairspilledacross my pillow, one strand caught at the corner of her parted lips. My chest squeezed at how right she looked sprawled out in my bed. Made me want to brush that strand away, to trace the curve of her cheek. She looked like she belonged here. In my bed, in my life.

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