Page 9 of Make Me Yours
She belongs with me.
Tome.
The last time she had “big news” to share, I damn near had a heart attack.
I was convinced he’d proposed.
Instead, she’d gotten a promotion at work.
It was a relief.
But that fear hasn’t gone anywhere.
Knox McNichols claps me on the back with a gloved hand. “Cheer up, fucker. We won tonight.”
I grunt in response.
There isn’t much that comes before hockey.
Lilah’s the exception.
The second I step into the locker room, I yank off my gloves and toss them onto the bench as I reach for my cell. My pulse kicks up as my fingers tighten around the slim device and I unlock the home screen.
There’s not a single message or missed call from her.
With a frown, I check my inbox.
Still nothing.
“What the fuck?” I mutter before firing off a text.
Me:
Where are you?
I strip off my jersey, grab a towel, and check again.
Nada.
Me:
Everything okay?
No response.
My jaw clenches, and I force myself to breathe through the unease clawing at my ribs.
Me:
Lilah. Call me. You’re starting to scare me.
I swear to God, when I finally get my hands on that woman, I’ll spank her damn ass. I groan as an image of bending her over my lap and smacking the rounded curve of her bottom shoves its way into my brain. The last place I need to pop wood is in the locker room with a bunch of naked dudes.
I’d never hear the end of it.
Jaxon Wilder watches me with a slow-growing smirk.
“Damn,” he drawls, kicking back against his stall. “I didn’t realize you were so whipped.”
