Page 27 of Defensive Desire

Blake shoots him a warning look, but Connor's already locked onto me.

"This is about Emma, isn't it?" Connor grins, clearly enjoying this. "Dude, I saw you guys earlier! Man, the way you two looked during that ring toss game... I thought you were going to throw her over your shoulder and carry her off like some caveman."

"Shut up, Walsh."

"I'm just saying, the sexual tension was so thick I could have cut it with my skate blade." Connor leans against the door frame, blocking my exit. "So what's the problem? You clearly want her, she's clearly into you..."

"The problem," I snap, "is that it's fucking complicated."

"How?" Blake and Connor chime in like synchronized swimming rejects, their voices colliding in the air between us.

I run my hands through my hair, frustration boiling over.

"Because I don't do this! I don't do... feelings. Relationships. Love." I throw my fists up in the air. "Whatever the hellthisis supposed to be."

"Why not?" Blake pushes.

The question hangs in the air like smoke.

What do I tell him?

Because I'm scared? Because the last person I loved died while I was on a bus in a different country, and I couldn't even make it to her funeral? Because letting someone matter that much means giving them the power to destroy you completely?

I made my mind up that day.

Love is for the weak. I'm better off alone.

At least, that's how I felt until Emma came along. Until she stormed into my life with her books and cinnamon-scented sweaters, looking at me like I was more than just the guy who broke faces on the ice. Like maybe I was worth knowing beyond the enforcer everyone else saw.

"Just... drop it. Both of you."

I try to push past Connor, but he doesn't budge.

"You know what your problem is?" Connor says, far too cheerful for someone about to get his ass kicked. "You think too much. Emma makes you coffee, you build her shelves. She smiles at you, you get all broody and protective. It's not that complicated."

"It is when you have no idea what you're doing," I mutter.

Blake steps forward. "None of us knew what we were doing. You think I had a manual for dealing with Sophia? Or that Connor figured out Lucy overnight?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because..." I trail off, searching for the words. "Because you're not me."

The silence that follows is heavy. Too heavy.

Connor finally speaks, his tone lighter but still serious. "Look, man. I've seen you take on guys twice your size without blinking. But one tiny coffee shop owner has you running scared?"

"She's not tiny," I say automatically, then realize how that sounds when they both smirk.

"Right," Blake drawls. "So what is it then? What's got Iron Ridge's scariest defenseman hiding in a bathroom?"

I lean back against the wall, the fight going out of me. "What if I fuck it up? What if I'm not... enough?"

It comes out quieter than I mean it to, but they both hear it despite the noise of the carnival still pounding through the walls.

Connor's expression softens. "Enough for what?"