Page 26 of Scoring Grey

Eloise stiffens in my hold, and for a second, I think it’s because she believes I’m dishing her a backhanded insult, but then she asks, “Lucas doesn’t attend your games?”

I furrow my brow. “Why would?—”

All our phones unanimously buzz on the hardwood table. Moon, Roe, and I pick them up. With Eloise by my side, it felt like I blinked, and the night was over. No amount of time spent with her will ever be enough. I already know what the message will read. Time is up.

Beck: The plane is ready. Leaving in twenty minutes.

“Time to go,” Roe says. “You don’t mind if we catch a ride back with the two of you to the airport, do you?”

“No, I don’t mind,” Eloise confirms. “I stopped drinking an hour ago. Let’s go.”

Everyone gets up except for me. I’m not ready to leave. Even though I wanted her alone, tonight was nice. We had drinks with my friends and told stories. I got to hold her in my arms, and we felt like us for a few short hours. “Come on. The faster we get out of here, the quicker you can come home,” she says, extending her hand for me to take.

“Leave it to you to make staying and going equally hard,” I jest as I take her hand and follow her out of the bar.

“I didn’t know staying was an option,” she says as we make our way to the truck.

“It is if that’s what you want. I’d walk away from it all if you asked it of me.” The guys hop in the back of the cab, and I pause with my hand on the driver’s side door to open it for her. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I don’t want you to leave, but I won’t ask you to stay at the cost of giving up your career and something you love doing.”

“What if I don’t like hockey?”

My mother was one of the reasons I started playing. When I was seven, I found a picture tucked away in a folder in my dad’s office. I always took the opportunity to snoop around when it wasn’t locked simply because it was off-limits. That’s when I came across a newspaper clipping of my mother with her father. It was taken of them standing beside the Royals. The caption beneath the picture read,

Royals owner Harold Morgan with daughter Virginia Morgan home opener.

Once I found that picture and saw the smile on my mother’s face, I knew I wanted to play hockey. If she and my grandfather loved it, so would I. Lo and behold, when I went to my father, who rarely let me do anything, and asked if I could start playing, he was all in. Looking back, I think he allowed me to play because he knew how much playing that sport meant I wouldn’t be around. It was a distraction for me as much as it was for him. If I was out of the house, I wasn’t in it, serving as a reminder of the wife he lost.

“I’d say that sounds like a conversation for when we have more time.” Her hands find the lapels on my suit jacket. “Are you serious right now? Is everything okay?”

“The reasons I started playing no longer hold the same weight…” I shake my head. “Never mind. Like you said, it’s a conversation for another day, and you didn’t put your sweater on.” I take off my jacket.

“Cal, I don’t need that. I’ll turn the heat on.”

“You’re not getting in the truck in front of my teammates like that.”

Her eyes narrow on mine, and a scowl forms until she looks down once I have the jacket around her shoulders and notices her very hard, very erect nipples. I pull the lapels so that they’re covered. “Those are for my eyes only.” She rolls her lips, and I open the door. “Get in before I really do quit the team.”

8

ELOISE

Iyawn big as I stretch and walk down the hallway to the main living room. I slept like the dead last night. Admittedly, Callum’s bed is like sleeping on clouds. I don’t think I’ve ever slept in a bed that comfortable, and it didn’t hurt that it smelled like him. The second my head hit the pillow and the warmth of the blankets consumed me, I was out. Apparently, two missed calls from my brother, one text from Cal, and one from Adler wasn’t enough to wake me either. Adler took priority over my morning coffee and received a phone call instead of a text. I miss him so much. A big part of me considered flying home for the weekend, knowing Cal would be out of town anyway, but I knew leaving would only be that much harder if I did.

The morning light cascading through the wall of windows is mesmerizing and momentarily stops me. I’d love to capture those beams of light in a painting. The doorbell ringing practically startles me out of my skin. “Shit.” I turn toward the door and cover my heart. “Who the hell is knocking on the door at this hour?” I stare down the hallway, apprehensive to go to the door, knowing what happened the last time I opened a door in one of Callum’s houses. Before any more trepidation has time to settle, my phone pings.

Callum: Answer the door, blondie. It’s breakfast.

I fasten the belt around my robe and walk to the door, then check the peephole just to be safe. Sure enough, there’s a woman on the other side with a bag in hand. I unlatch the chain and turn the lock.

“Hi, sorry to keep you waiting,” I say as I open the door.

“It’s no problem. This order came with an excellent tip.”

I smile. “Oh, okay then. Thank you.” I take the bag and cup of coffee from her before closing the door. I head straight to the kitchen and set down the bag. No sooner I pull out the bagels than my phone rings.

“Seriously, do you have cameras in the house or something?” I answer.

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