Page 68 of Puck Me Secretly

He moved us to the bed and pulled me onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and wept. All the fear, anger and indignation of the night poured out of me. A big hand rubbed my back while I released all my pent-up stress and emotion. I cried until there were no tears left.

I lifted my wet face from his neck, swiping away the tears with the back of my hand. “Sorry.”

“Feel better?” His hand cupped my neck and his thumb rubbed tears from my cheek.

I drowned in his blue gaze. “Yeah.”

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

I stood up and like that night in North Dakota, he moved to pull back the covers. I climbed in.

He pulled the covers up over me, tucking me in like a child.

“Night.”

I grabbed his large hand. “Will you please stay with me until I fall asleep?”

What?

I did not understand why those words blurted out of me. I could see the hesitation on his face.

“Please, Max?”

He kicked off his shoes, clicked off the lamp and then I felt him move easily over me to the other side of the bed.

I squeaked when he grabbed me by the waist and hauled me back against his warm chest. I shut my eyes in complete bliss as I snuggled further back against his body.

“Thank you.”

His lips were against my hair. “Just until you fall asleep.”

A gusty sigh escaped out of me. Never in my life, had I felt more safe, more protected or more cocooned from the world.

“I like you,” I mumbled. And then sleep claimed me.

When I woke up, he was gone.

CHAPTER 26

Two daysafter I got home, I sat in another insufferable coaches meeting. I dreaded these meetings. Baxter’s hatred of Max was so plain, it was to the point of being uncomfortable for anyone required to listen to him vent about all of Max’s shortcomings. Most of which Baxter made up.

At the end of the meeting, everyone stood up and gathered their things. Dad walked into the room.

“Baxter, may I have a word?”

Baxter paused, fear flitting across his face. “Sure.”

The other coaches filed towards the door with haste. I made quick work of gathering up my papers and almost made it to the door when Dad’s voice rang out. “Rory, you can stay.”

I stared longingly at the door before shutting the door and turning around.

“Have a seat, Baxter.” Dad’s voice was deceptively casual.

Baxter sat. Dad leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. I hovered between the table and the door, in no-man's-land.

“Baxter, how do you think the last road trip went?”

Baxter’s eyes widened. “We won four out of the fivegames. No major injuries. Despite the small incident in Minnesota, it went well.”

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