Page 118 of Playing the Pucking Game
I hate that he can read something on my face.
“Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping great. The last week has been a lot.”
“I can imagine,” he says as he swings his legs over the side of the table. “Don’t put pressure on yourself to feel okay. New home, new job, putting up with us assholes. It’s a lot.”
I smile at him, grateful for his words and support. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. I’m much better with advice than the others.”
“I won’t mention you said that.”
“Probably best not to.” He laughs.
I turn my back to the room as I type up some notes, listening as Cole sorts himself out and Mitchell slips into the office.
“Are you going to be okay?” Cole asks, and I startle when I realize he’s closer than I was expecting.
“Yeah, of course. Why?” I spin around, confused by the question, but the second my eyes land on the man standing in the doorway, it clicks.
I might not have said anything to Cole, but it seems he might be a little more perceptive than I was expecting.
“Oh,” I breathe as Linc’s eyes hold mine.
My heart pounds and my hands begin to tremble.
But I refuse to cower to any man, even one I’d happily crawl to if the situation were different, so I straighten my spine and plaster a smile on my face.
“We’re all done here. I’ll see you tomorrow?” I say to Cole as I grab the antibacterial spray and begin wiping down the table.
“You got it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cole step up to Linc. He murmurs something I can’t hear before he walks away, leaving us alone.
“On the table. Let’s get you cleared for tomorrow’s game.”
31
PARKER
“This is even more depressing than the last place, and that’s really saying something,” I muse as Casey, Freya and I stand in the living room of yet another awful apartment.
We’ve seen three this afternoon, and they’ve gotten increasingly worse.
I swear that the damp scent has permeated my skin already.
“We’re not looking at the rest of it. I refuse to allow either of you to live in any of the places we’ve seen today,” Casey states before marching toward the beaten-up front door. “Let’s go and get day drunk.”
Freya and I look at each other before racing after her.
Cocktails are essential at this point.
It’s been a week since the incident in Linc’s room, and I’m doing my best to put it behind me and focus on my future.
Things between us have been…awkward and strained.
If he hasn’t already left for the arena before I emerge from my room, then he’s in his room or his home gym. If he’s back when I get home at night, I mumble some kind of excuse and hide in my bedroom.
The only time we properly spend together is when he’s in the trainers’ room. Thankfully, his groin has healed up nicely and Iwas able to remove his name from the injury report that next morning. It’s meant fewer one-on-one sessions, which is a relief. I’m not sure I could cope with another hour like we had the morning after the night before.
