Page 113 of Heart Taker

“You want to know what else?” I whispered, happiness surging in my veins. “I don’t want it back.”

Silas’s husky laughter filled my office.

“Even better, because I’m keeping it,” he countered with another kiss. “I love you, too, Damien. So much.”

Shivers wracked my body, and I clutched tightly to him.

Was this the ideal time for us to confess our feelings? Fuck no. Did either of us give a damn in that moment? Nope.

“We’ll celebrate tonight. Right now, we’ve got training to continue.”

Silas gave my ass a playful swat. “I’m so going to show off this aft.”

“Focus on the game, remember. Not me.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Now get your ass back out there.”

Silas slowly stepped back, and much as I didn’t want to let go, I braced my shaky hands on my desk.

“Meet at your place after?” he asked.

I nodded.

Silas picked up his gear and headed for the hallway. I dropped back onto my chair and ran a hand through my hair. Yup, I was still shaking.

I told Silas I love him. And he loves me.

Giving myself a minute to process, I reached for the water bottle on my desk and took a big gulp to wash down my fear. Loving Silas meant I had a lot more to lose if things came out and there was backlash. We were so caught up in each other that we forgot reality was right here. All around us. It wasn’t easy having players that were dating on the same team, not for them, for their teammates, or for the school, especially when I had to explain to outsiders what was going on. And me being involved with a player? How would that go down? Not well. Not well at all.

I hated that I couldn’t even enjoy this moment, too worried about all the what-ifs. It was like my last night as a pro player, the night my knee got fucked up. Once I was in motion, there was no stopping the collision. By the time I got hit, it was too late. Not that I could change anything; accidents happen. And I didn’t regret my time on the ice.

I certainly didn’t regret falling for Silas, but Iwasafraid for him.

I only wanted to protect him, not be the very thing that he needed protection from. And when word got out, a shitstorm would unleash. That, I knew. I’d been trying for weeks to find a solution, but I still had no answer.

Would it come to me? Hopefully, not too late.

Slipping on my jacket, I grabbed my tablet and made my way back to the ice.

There was already a three-on-three game happening, with Selwin acting as referee, critic, and coach. The journalist, a guy named Cillian—I couldn’t remember his last name—was still here, still taking photographs, but he was seated in the stands instead of on the ice. I looked around but there was no sign of Dave anymore. He must’ve headed home.

I stepped out onto the ice in time to watch our captain deke around Finn and Colin, slamming the puck home.

“Yes!” Dane shouted.

“That’s 3-1 for Dane’s team!” Selwin called out. “Finn, you let him slip past you, again. What did we talk about?”

“Obviously I can’t remember,” Finn commented and skated off.

His posture slumped, frustration obviously setting in. I called Finn over, concerned.

“Is everything okay, Finn? How’s your mom?”

“She’s good. Her spirits, I mean. The results aren’t back yet, but the doctor says a few more days. The waiting is taking forever.”

“I’m sorry. If you need to skip a day of camp, let me know.”

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