Page 40 of Offside Angel

I want to ask what he means by that, but a quick glance down at myself answers the question for me. I’m wearing Zane’s boxers and doing a Sudoku puzzle on “Expert” level on my phone.

Maybe, just maybe, I need to get a life.

“One truth per day?” Zane suggests, charging ahead with his before I can respond. “I did not want to go back to practice and leave you alone all day, but being back with the team has been nice. I’ve always loved hockey and it feels good to do something I love.”

“You do something you love almost every night,” I childishly grumble.

I know Zane is still having nightmares, but when he finds me in the middle of the night and pulls me close, I don’t mention it. We both need the comfort more than we’re willing to admit.

Zane laughs. “And I’ll do it again tonight—after you go out for lunch with your friends and enjoy yourself.”

I sink down into the couch. “I don’t even know what I’m going to wear.”

Zane hums, thinking. “The green dress with the white flowers,” he decides. “The one with the ties on the shoulders.”

I can’t bite back my smile. “You like that one?”

“Enough to rip it off you with my bare hands.”

A shiver moves down my spine at the promise in his voice. Suddenly, I’m ready to get the hell out of Dodge.

If only so I can hurry right back.

“Zane said he called ahead to the restaurant so we’d have a private room.” I study the cafe through the tinted window of Evan’s car. What there is to study, anyway. The shop is narrow and wedged between two comically large buildings. “This place looks tiny. There’s no way they have private rooms.”

“No, probably not,” Taylor agrees. “But Rachelle chose this place because it’s tiny. If anyone we don’t like comes in, we’ll know it.”

“And I can see the entire restaurant from here,” Evan points out. “I won’t move from this spot.”

“But you’re double parked.”

He chuckles. “I dare a meter maid to try making me move.”

I blow out a breath. This seemed like a bad idea back at the condo. But Zane wanted me to try and I wanted to pretend that I’m getting better. Now that I’m here, it feels like the world’s worst idea. Being here—exposed and without Zane—is “I know we’re in a horror movie, but maybe we should split up” kinds of stupid.

Dante hasn’t made a peep since the day he broke down my apartment door and I fled down the fire escape. I could take that silence as a good sign. Maybe he doesn’t know where I am or he’s given up.

But I know what it really is: the calm before the storm.

He’s lurking in the shadows somewhere, watching me. He’s waited seven years—why not a few more weeks? All he has to do is wait for me to make myself vulnerable.

And here I am, playing Marco fucking Polo with a man who wants to kill me.

Taylor tugs on my arm. “Come on, Mimi. We’re here, I’m starving, and Rachelle said this place has a caprese sandwich that is to die for.”

My mouth falls open. “You did not just say that.”

“Say wha— Oh my God!” She swats at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are not going to die!”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. Come on.” She drags me across the backseat. “Wait for us here, Evan. We’ll be back in an hour.”

Evan gives her a salute. I glare at him for taking her side before Taylor slams the door closed.

The air is warm and a soft breeze toys with the hem of my dress. Even if this is a stupid idea, it feels nice. Then a sudden realization hits me: this is the first time I’ve been outside in a week.

I run through the last seven days in my head, and yeah, sure enough, the math is correct. I’ve taken the elevator down to the parking garage to load Aiden up for school, but we use the car drop-off line when we get there. I don’t have to get out of the vehicle at all. Then it’s back to the condo, where I workout on the first floor and spend the rest of the day inside Zane’s unit. I haven’t even been on the balcony because I was worried my brother might snipe me.

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