Page 11 of Owning Eva

Back in my room, I pace the floor, the memory of Eli’s words replaying in my head.

“Nothing else mattered.”

It’s ridiculous. I barely know him. But the way he looks at me—like he’s already decided I belong to him—makes it impossible to think straight.

I flop on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Get it together, Ev,” I mutter. “You’ve got a manuscript to finish. You do not have time for grumpy hockey players with intense eyes and big biceps.”

But even as I say it, I know it’s a losing battle.

Ten

Eva

I barely slept. Not because of the bed—it’s like laying on a cloud—but because of him. Eli Jackson. His words, his gaze, his entire overwhelming presence is still haunting me, no matter how many deep, calming breaths I take.

I tug on my boots and zip up my coat, deciding to take a walk before Emily inevitably shows up to drag me into something “fun.” Hopefully, some cold air will help clear my head.

* * *

The lodge’s skating rink is empty, tucked behind the main building and surrounded by snow-covered trees. The ice glistens under the morning sun, smooth and inviting.

I haven’t skated in years, but something about the quiet stillness calls to me. I spot a small cabin nearby, where a rack of skatessits waiting. The idea of gliding across the ice, letting my mind go blank for a while, is too tempting to pass up.

Minutes later, I’m lacing up skates that fit surprisingly well, wobbling slightly as I step onto the ice. It’s awkward at first, my legs shaky and unsteady, but muscle memory kicks in, and soon I’m skating slow, lazy loops around the rink.

For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe.

Until I hear his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Carter.”

My heart leaps into my throat as I whip around to find Eli leaning against the rink’s wooden fence. He’s wearing a heavy black coat, gloved hands hanging over the railing, and the small grin on his face is almost as dangerous as the way his eyes rake over me.

“Do you have some kind of tracker on me?” I call out, trying to hide the way my breath quickens.

He pushes off the fence, stepping on the ice. And, of course he doesn’t wobble. “Just good instincts.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Instincts?”

“Yeah, they told me you’d try to sneak off. And that I’d find you.”

There’s something in the way he says it—like it’s not just about this morning, but something deeper. Like he’s always going to find me.

I shake my head, turning away before he can see how much his words affect me. “You skate?” I ask, desperate to change thesubject.

“Baby, I’m a hockey player,” he says, full-on smirking, now.

“Right. So, no?” I raise a teasing eyebrow.

That earns me a surprised laugh, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips.

* * *

Before I can protest, Eli closes the distance between us in two long strides, his giant frame making me feel small in a way I’ve never experienced.

“You’re not bad,” he says, nodding at my wobbly movements.

“I guess.”

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