Page 37 of Foster

Something about his bravado doesn’t sound right and I take my index finger, gently poking the bruise.

He flinches backward. “Ouch!”

I roll my eyes. “Big baby. Here, put this on it.”

Foster grins as he takes the ice pack, pressing it against the bruise, and I move back to the vegetables that I need to finish up. “I’ve got about fifteen more minutes of work here. I’ll get dinner in the oven and then I can go pick up Bowie Jane.”

“I can get her,” Foster says.

“You shouldn’t drive. You should rest and ice.”

“I’ll point out that I drove home from the arena just fine.”

I twist my neck to look back at him, dip my chin, and give him that don’t mess with me look. “Fine, you’re fully able to drive. But you should rest and ice. I can go get her.”

One dark eyebrow arches with challenge. “Stop mothering me.”

I glare at him. “Don’t make me poke you again.”

Foster laughs and throws up a hand in submission as he continues to hold the ice on his shoulder. “Fine, you can go get Bowie Jane. Only if you agree to stay and have dinner with us. You know, because of my injury and all. I’m not sure I can actually serve the food or clean up afterward.”

“Big baby,” I repeat, but inside I am flushed with joy over the invitation. Tonight is a night that Foster definitely does not need me to stay, despite his injury, as Bowie Jane is pretty self-sufficient, but I try not to read too much into the invite.

As I cut veggies, Foster talks about hockey. I’ve been learning more and more about the team through our conversations. He’s filled me in on all the players including personal stories. For example, Stone Dumelin’s brother died in the plane crash and Stone was called up from the minors to take his place. And Drake McGinn, our goalie, was the black sheep of the league. He had a torrid affair—my words, not Foster’s—with Brienne Norcross that went on completely in secret, but they fell in love and finally came out to the world that they were together. Then there’s the recent sad tragedy of Boone falling in love with Lilly, all while her younger brother was dying from cancer. My heart broke in two when Foster told me about young Aiden and how he wormed his way into all the Titans’ hearts.

My favorite though is the scandalous relationship between Kiera and Bain because Kiera is Drake’s little sister and he threatened to kill any player who touched her. I love a good forbidden romance because even though things might appear wrong on all levels, if you have that chemistry with someone and the potential for more, why shouldn’t you go for it?

All great stories.

“How was it with Penn today?” I ask as I glance back at him.

Foster snorts, adjusts the ice a little higher on his shoulder. “Same old, same old. As taciturn and withdrawn as ever.”

I’d learned that Penn Navarro is the absolute best player in the league and the Titans shelled out a lot of money for him. He replaced a beloved player, Coen Highsmith, and it’s taking the team some time adjusting not only to Coen’s loss but to the addition of such a megastar who is not making it easy to form personal relationships.

I bring the knife down on the carrot I’d been slicing into sticks just as I’m turning back around. Except rather than the carrot, it catches the edge of my index finger and slices into it.

“Fuck,” I exclaim as the knife clatters out of my grip. I grab hold of my finger with my other hand, squeezing it tightly, terrified to see the damage I’ve just done. It hurts, but I don’t want to see the blood welling out or how deep the cut went.

Foster flies out of the chair, his ice pack falling to the floor. In a flash, he’s standing before me. “Let me see it.”

I shake my head vehemently. If I don’t look at it, it will be fine.

Foster’s large hands encircle my wrists. His voice gentles. “Mazzy… you need to let me see the cut.”

My eyes lift and lock with his. “Confession time. My big weakness is blood. Anyone’s blood, really, but mine grosses me out. There’s a good chance I’ll faint.”

There’s enough teasing in my tone that Foster smiles softly, but his eyes remain serious as he can see I’m wigged out.

“How about we move toward the sink so I can run some water on it and you avert your eyes. Let me judge what it looks like.”

Nope. Just going to stand here forever, holding on to it with my hand, and hope it heals fine on its own.

But I nod, biting hard on my lower lip so I have something else to focus on. He leads me to the island sink and turns on the cold water. I twist my neck to look away but he still has to gently force my hand under the stream.

I get a little dizzy as I imagine blood pouring out of it, and brace my free hand on the counter. When the water touches the wound it stings, but I find some comfort when Foster says, “I don’t think it’s that bad.” He probes a bit around the edge, I imagine forcing the blood to well so he can see the exact line of the cut. “You’ll only need a Band-Aid.”

My head swivels back around, not to look at my injury but to look at Foster for assurance. “Really?”

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