Page 12 of Facing Off
“Whatkind of thing?”
She waves a hand, like she’s trying to shove this whole conversation away. “Getting too…casual with too many people.”
I whistle low.Fuck.Ouch.
So I’m the ‘too many people.’
Something twists in my chest. “Dar—” I shake my head, smiling and stopping myself from overdoing it. “Sonya, if you’re leaving because of me, I’ll tone it down.”
“No…It’s fine. I meant…” Her eyes are going anywhere but on me. “Ballet. That’s what I need to focus on right now. And…” Sonya squares her shoulders. “For the record, Quinn won’t be too upset that I’m leaving.”
“You’re here,” she adds quickly, “and he likes you. And the whole team. I don’t personally get it, but it makes me glad. He’s found his family with the Wings.”
“You’re part of that family, too.”
Her mouth parts, and I swear she doesn’t know what todo with her face. She’s stiff, and looking at me like I just said something no one’s ever said to her before. Which is insane. Of course she’s family. It’s obvious.
But she’s not looking at me like it’s obvious.
I run a hand through my hair. “When you show up at our games, even if you’re just reading a book, Quinn always brings you up in the locker room. Every time.”
Sonya frowns. “What does he say?”
“He announces who you are to all the guys, even though all of us already know. He says, that’s my sister and she’s here.”
“Stop.” Her legs shift, she steps back a half-pace, and her chest rises and falls a little faster.
Yeah.
She’s uncomfortable with how this conversation is going.
I hate that. I really fucking hate that.
How do I fix it? I don’t know. I reach for what I know, what I’m good at. Jokes. Humor. The swagger. “You know what else Quinn wants?” I blurt out, flashing her a smirk. “He tells us not to bother you.” I shrug, making the move as lazy as I can. “I suck at following instructions.”
That gets her.
Her mouth twitches. Just the tiniest hint. “You don’t say.”
Her words drip with sarcasm.
I clock them. Memorize them.
Whatever happened inside tonight made her want to run. But me acting like sheexpectsme to—the flirting, pushing, teasing—is resetting things back to normal.
I twirl her purse between my fingers. “You should watch me play, darling. I’m basically hockey’s hottest mixtape. Nothing but hits!”
That was corny, I know. But Sonya’s hand flies up, covering her mouth.
I narrow my eyes, stunned. Was that a laugh?
It almost was, I think.
She realizes it, too. Her expression shutters in real time like a switch got flipped.
Shit.
Sonya stiffens. “Toss my purse to me.”
