Page 23 of Hockey Wife

Without waiting for a response, he grasped her tiny hand and led her away.

8

He’s here.

If Georgia could wish for anything right now, it would be for everyone to leave. Go home. Let her be.

With Banks.

His hand wrapped in hers felt big and safe, its warmth vital and life-affirming. Vaguely she heard Oliver calling her name, asking if she was okay. Did she need his help? No, she never had despite their joking about a marriage pact. She could handle Banks, even if the last time she’d gone down that mental ditch, she’d woken up married.

He took her toward the back of the apartment, still holding her hand, as if he knew the layout. Maybe he did. Maybe he had visited her neighbor Dex at some point over the last couple of months. He might have been mere feet away from her all this time.

He found the restroom, pushed open the door, and pulled her inside. With the door closed and locked, leaving the din of the party behind, he released her.

And stared.

Likely trying to puzzle out who she was and how they got here.

If you find out, let me know.

He cast his gaze over the small space with her kooky shower curtain of a cat riding a shark, the wall of cosmetics (Amazon’s “subscribe and save” was her friend), and today’s mantra in lipstick on the mirror: Choose joy.

Banks didn’t seem like a mantra kind of guy. If anything, he was probably anti-mantra.

The quiet drew taut as a wire, and as she had never been good with silences, she filled the void.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Your big mouth got us in the papers.”

“My big mouth? You’re the one who pitched a fit in a crowded bar because I gave you some bad news.” Embarrassed to be associated with her, she’d venture. “Your teammates probably blabbed.”

“Not if they value their balls. No, the leak is from your side.”

She threw up her hands. “Who cares? It’s out there and now we need to fix it. I already texted you my lawyer’s number, so why are you here?”

A muscle ticced in his jaw. His eyes, that deep golden-brown, dipped to her mouth, flashed, then looked over her head in the direction of the mirror. Choosing joy, perhaps?

“Circumstances have … changed.” Each word exited his mouth like precious cargo. She was supposed to savor it, apparently, because he immediately clammed up.

“Circumstances?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Two could play at the cagey word reveal game. The silence was becoming more familiar, almost cozy, like hygge with a side of who’s-gonna-crack-first.

Finally, he broke it. “The staying married option? I can do that.”

Her heart jumped so hard she had to hold a hand to her chest. Play it cool.

“And what makes you think my circumstances are the same?”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? To get your money.” As if her reasons for staying married were distasteful while his were what? Altruistic?

“I’m going to need more information.”

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