Page 63 of The Pucking Player

The way she says it makes my chest tighten. I watch her for a moment, the words I’ve been holding back for days sitting heavy on my tongue. Finally, I take the plunge.

“Can we talk about the morning you bolted from my place like it was on fire?” I keep my voice light, even though my heart’s pounding.

She stills, color rising in her cheeks. “I told you. I had class.”

“Angel.” I reach across the table, my fingers ghosting over her wrist where I once wrote my number. “What we have isn’t just for show. Not for me. And the way you react when I touch you—I can tell it’s real for you too.”

She meets my eyes then, and the vulnerability there nearly stops my heart.

“I know you’re being careful.” I lower my voice, leaning closer. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”

The server approaches before she can respond, tablet in hand. Sophie opts for sparkling water with lime, explaining she has an early class tomorrow. I follow her lead. It’s a good idea to keep alcohol to a minimum during the season.

“And to eat?” the server prompts.

“I’ll have the octopus,” I say, then watch as Sophie scans the menu one last time.

“The burrata to start,” she decides, “and then the handmade cavatelli with wild mushrooms.”

God, even the way she orders pasta explodes my brain.

“Not a big fan of seafood,” she murmurs apologetically, as if I would take it personally that she didn’t take my suggestion. In fact, I love it that she has her own mind and won’t be influenced by the opinions of others.

Once the server leaves, Sophie leans forward, her voice barely above a whisper, “We can’t, Liam. You know we can’t.”

“Why?”

“Where do I even start? My father would make your life hell.”

I lean in, matching her posture. “I’ll handle your dad. I told you that on the first day we met.”

“Can you? Because your coach will want to murder you for dating his daughter.” She sighs heavily, then adds quietly, “And it won’t be just the two of us who will be affected. It’s the whole team that will suffer.” She pauses. “Besides, I’m trying to focus on med school.”

“Those aren’t reasons, Sophie. Those are excuses.”

A group of twenty-somethings at the next table are not-so-subtly taking photos. Sophie notices and sits back slightly as the server places the plates with our food in front of us. Once he leaves, she leans forward again. “See? This is what our life would be like. Constant attention, everyonewatching, rooting for the playboy hockey star to break the coach’s daughter’s heart.”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?”

Her eyes glisten. “No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know, Liam. I just...I can’t afford distractions right now.”

“I’m a distraction?”

“You know you are.” She fidgets with her napkin. “Every time you’re near me, I can barely think straight.”

Heat floods my body at her admission. “Good. Because I feel exactly the same about you.”

“Liam...”

“Tell me this thing between us is ordinary,” I challenge her.

Her fork stills mid-twirl, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me, her green eyes wide, like she’s waiting for me to blink and laugh it off. For a moment, I see everything I’m feeling reflected back at me—the want, the fear, the possibilities.

“No, this is not ordinary,” she whispers finally.

“Then stop resisting. Say yes, angel.”

She shakes her head, but I can see her resolve wavering.

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