Page 35 of Face Off
“Ugh, gross!”
“Oi, you love me,” I tease, tickling her side until she squeals. Then I soften, pulling her close, letting her small warmth anchor me. “I’ll see you soon, munchkin. Be good for your mum, yeah?”
She nods solemnly, though I can tell she’s already distracted by Finn’s tiny socks.
I set her down gently, then turn to my teammates. “Right, I’m heading out.”
Murphy raises his brows, suspicious. “Out? Already? What, got better company lined up?”
I grin, trying to play it casual. “Maybe I just don’t fancy listening to you drone on about Sophie for another hour.”
“Oi!” He throws a peanut at me, which I catch mid-air and pop into my mouth. “Prick.”
Dylan smirks, Mia hides a laugh behind her hand, Jacko just shakes his head with that quiet, knowing look of his. I ignore it all, grabbing my coat from the back of a chair.
“Later, guys.”
And then I’m gone, slipping back out into the cold night.
She’s still there. Thank God.
Leaning against the wall just beyond the pub lights, arms folded, eyes bright when she sees me.
“You actually came back,” Chloe says, as if she didn’t believe I would.
“Course I did. You’re not shaking me off that easy.”
Her lips twitch. “Should’ve known.”
“Shall we?” I gesture down the street, offering my arm in mock gallantry.
She rolls her eyes but starts walking. I fall into step beside her, matching her pace even when my hip twinges in quiet protest. Not tonight. Not when I’ve got her beside me, coat brushing against my sleeve, hair catching the streetlamps like fire.
“So,” I say lightly, “you planning on running away every time I’m in the same building as Murphy?”
Her laugh is soft, self-conscious. “That would be kinda hard when I spend most of my days at the rink with you all. I just don’t think your friends would be thrilled to see me hanging around socialising with you all.”
“They’d get over it,” I say firmly.
“I’m not so sure. You were there, you saw what happened. The headlines, me scrambling on the ice on my arse. Murphy practically glares holes through me whenever I walk past.”
“That’s just his face. Man’s been stuck looking like a thundercloud since birth.”
She laughs again, and I grin, victorious.
“You shouldn’t make me laugh about this,” she says, shaking her head.
“Why not? You look beautiful when you laugh.”
She blinks at me, startled, and I immediately regret blurting it out so bluntly. But then her cheeks flush, and she looks away, and something warm curls in my chest.
We walk in silence for a moment, the rhythm of our steps steady. The night air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke.
I let my hand brush against hers once, twice, testing the waters. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t move closer either.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she murmurs, eyes fixed straight ahead.
“Doing what?”
