Page 74 of Always You

“What?” Admiration ebbs through her tone, pride filling my chest. “A North Carolina Hurricane?”

“Yeah. He retired from being a pro when I was about eight. Started training the kids. He was great with kids. Not just Logan and me, but every single kid he met. All the boys at the club looked up to him, which made me even more proud he was my dad, you know?”

“Did you play hockey?”

“I did.” I move us back to the edge, then plant my ass on the pebbles underwater, the water still wrapped around my waist, while she straddles me. “Logan and I were really talented. We became midget minors a year before we were eligible. We dreamed about being hockey-playing brothers, always getting a two-for-one deal. We wanted to win the Stanley Cup,together.” My face falls, and I swallow, having a hard time thinking back to those carefree moments at the stadium when it was just my father, my brother, and me. He was hard on us, always pushing us to do better, but also always making sure we had fun. We’d play tag at the rink after our training, and he’d win every single time, even though Logan and I got better every year. Those are the moments I miss the most, hearing our laughter echoing through the rink while the cold air numbed my face.

Young, wild, and free.

Not a care in the world other than becoming a part of the NHL as soon as possible.

“But then they died,” she says with a cracking voice as she moves her head back to face me. Her gorgeous green eyes find mine, and I expect to find pity there, but instead they’re filled with love.Affection. They are beaming at me with hope, because that’s what she’s been giving me for the last year.

Hope for a better future.

“But then they died.”

A troubled sigh flutters over her lips, and before I realize what she’s doing, her hands cup my face, and her pink lips land on mine. Stunned by the move, I freeze for a moment, until I snapout of it and wrap my arms tight around her waist. It’s heated, soft, filled with tenderness, and even better than I imagined it could be. It feels surreal, like utter bliss, everything I need but don’t deserve. She sets my entire soul on fire, sealing my fate as if it wasn’t already set in stone. But it’s the form of intimacy that’s making my heart race. Our kiss lacks lust; feeling our lips locked together is comforting, loving, the boost of confidence I craved after opening up to her.

Finally, she breaks our connection, way too soon for my liking, pressing her forehead against mine as I wait for her to say something. Her eyes move back and forth while our lips continue to brush against each other.

“I’m here, Hunter Hansen. Always,” she says breathlessly.

“I know, Charlotte Roux. I know.”

The corner of her lip rises. “Best friendsfirst.”

I nod in agreement, and she gets off me, standing up in the water.

“Friendsfirst.Although,” I admit, standing up next to her, “you’re making this really hard for me to not flirt with you if you’re going to keep planting your lips on mine.”

She gives me a small push with a playful glare.

“Shut up, asshole.”

25

Istop in front of Charls’s house, and the corner of my mouth lifts, watching her on the swinging bench. It’s her favorite place in the whole world. She loves our spot at the creek, and she likes hanging out with me in the truck, just doing nothing. But I know she’s the happiest when she’s sitting on her swinging bench, reading a book.

She gets up, and my breath catches in my throat when I notice the sliver of skin separating her white tank top from her jeans. I already know I’m going to find an excuse to run my hand over her bare stomach today, my mind not even fighting the aching in my fingers anymore.

She crosses the front lawn before she climbs into my truck.

“Hey, babe.” I smile from under my sunglasses, her sweet flowery scent instantly lingering around me, elevating my good mood to epic proportions.

“Hey.” She returns my smile, buckling up, and I put the truck in reverse to maneuver it back onto the road.

After that day at the quarry, the lines have blurred. She still shuts me up when I flirt with her, but there’s desire reaching her eyes instead of a scowl. She doesn’t correct me when I call her “my girl,” and there’s not even a reprimand when I touch her without any real reason. She’s basically giving me a fucking hall pass and I’m taking full advantage of it.

Any chance I get to wrap my arms around her, stroke her cheek, or even plant a kiss on her hair? I take it.

My soul has been throbbing impatiently, waiting for a do-over of that kiss. It’s been three weeks, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about it. I’ve just been too much of a chicken to give it another shot. What if it was just afriendlykiss, nothing more? A loud voice is thundering like a hurricane, telling me that’s bullshit. She wants me to kiss her again. I can see it in that taunting sparkle of her gaze that haunts me at night.

But I haven’t built up the nerve.Not yet.

“I just need to go home real quick. Have a brief shower, and get some clothes, alright?”

She turns her head to meet mine. “Yeah, sure. You’ve been in the gym all day?”

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