Page 32 of The Love You Win

You should come to one of our games. It’s like an action movie on ice.

Sounds cold.

I’ll hook you up with a Rogues hoodie and hat. I think we have some branded fleece blankets… I’ll get you one of those, too.

My heart thrums. He wants me to come to one of their games? He didn’t say much last night when his teammates tried to convince me to go. I thought he was indifferent. Now he’s offering to buy me warm gear, and I don’t know what to make of it.

Me

Are you trying to bribe me?

Maddox

Maybe. Is it working?

Maybe.

There’s a pause, that little ellipsis flashing, then disappearing, flashing, then disappearing. For some reason, I’m holding my breath.

Maddox

The guys would be excited if you came to a game.

Aaand my stomach twists. Of course, it’s not that he wants me to go. It’s that his friends do. Not that I care. I don’t, because Maddox Graves is not the kind of man I need to develop feelings for. Even if he did rescue me and carried me princess-style like I weighed ten pounds.

Me

It would be fun to see them again. Well, I should go. I have errands to run. Have a good day. Thanks again for last night.

Maddox

You don’t need to thank me. Have a good day.

Once again, I’m staring at my ceiling, twisted up with confusion. For a few minutes, it seemed like Maddox was flirting with me. Then he invited me to a game because his teammates want me there? That shouldn’t bother me, but it does.

I let out a frustrated growl. “Why are men so freaking confusing?”

My only answer is the buzz of my phone. This time it’s not Maddox.

Jess

Hey, girl. We’re so sorry about last night. Did you end up doing anything fun?

Nev

Lunch today?

Unable to avoid them any longer, I start typing. My thumbs are about to get a workout.

MADDOX

We make it through training before the guys bring her up. Feeling out of sorts, I ask them to skate with me after our time in the weight room. We don’t hit the rink often during the off-season, but nothing clears my head like flying over the ice. Usually. It’s not as effective as I need it to be today.

“Dude, where’s your head at?” Byrne lightly hip checks me after I miss yet another shot. We don’t even have anyone manning the goal, so it’s even more pathetic than if we were scrimmaging.

“I know,” Griffin sings as he skates in circles around us like some annoying ice fairy. “He’s thinking about a certain red-haired TILF.”

I growl. “I fucking told you not to call her that.” I hold my stick out to trip him, but the shithead laughs and hops it.

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