Page 15 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
I lean against the counter, arms folded. “You’ve only been here one night. And you’re not crashing.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“You’re recovering,” I say, softer this time. “You can take all the time you need.”
She tilts her head, and a strand of dark hair slips from her bun, falling against her cheek. I catch myself wanting to brush it back and force the thought away.
“Are you sure?”
I nod, then add with a half-smile, “Well, just until your vacation ends. Once you stop helping out with the kids, I’m definitely going to have to kick you out.”
That gets a faint smile out of her.
“But seriously, you’re welcome here. There’s plenty of room.”
Too much room, most days. The house feels less empty with her in it.
But I don’t say that out loud.
Her shoulders ease just a little. “Okay. Thank you.”
I clear my throat and rub the back of my neck. “Do you want to get out for a bit tomorrow? I’ve got practice in the morning. You could come. Meet the team. Get some air.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “To the rink?”
“No pressure,” I add quickly. “Just thought maybe it’d be good. Change of scenery.”
She shifts her mug between her hands. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
I lean in a little. “You already survived Uno with Noah. The rink can’t be any worse.”
That earns a real smile. The kind I haven’t seen from her yet.
The kind that makes something settle, then twist, right in my chest.
We say goodnight, and she disappears upstairs, still holding her phone face down like she’s not ready to deal with what’s waiting there.
Later, lying in bed, I should be thinking about our upcoming matchups or whether we can pull off the two-win stretch we need.
But all I can think about is whether she’ll be there tomorrow.
And how damn much I want her to be.
Chapter Five
AVA
When I wander back to the guest room and close the door behind me, the soft click echoes louder than it should. I notice how still the house is once the twins are tucked in and the lights are dimmed.
I cross to the window and draw back the curtain a few inches. Outside below, the porch swing rocks lazily in the breeze, its motion almost hypnotic. Somewhere beyond the yard, a pair of owls hoot back and forth.
But all I can think about is Jackson’s voice a few moments ago.
You want to come to practice tomorrow? Meet the team?
The invitation was so casual I almost missed it. Like he just tossed it out there, not really expecting me to say yes. And honestly, I wasn’t expecting to even consider it.
I’m not sure what surprises me more: that he asked me at all, or that a part of me actually wants to go.
