Page 210 of Waiting Game

Tired doesn’t describe my fatigue when we pull up outside the bar, but I said I’d come for Mia after the team returned to the city and that I’d bring her home with me—definitelyno hardship. Been thinking about her most of the damn day anyway.

The lights are still on in the bar, though, when we get there, so I tell Burrows, “Do you mind waiting?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll go find somewhere to park. Text me and I’ll get here as soon as traffic allows.”

“Thanks, because I could use a beer.”

My five minutes on the ice tonight were fucking exhausting.

He nods at me in sympathy as I clamber out of the car. My calf’s better, not even that weak, but I got thrown into suicide sprints plus the game, and I want to fall asleep but my adrenaline is still pumping so I could do a hundred jumping jacks—it’s weird.

When I make it to Chuck’s, I tap on the door, knowing it’s closed for renovations.

I see Mia through the window, her hands on her hips as she surveys the walls in front of her.

At my knock, her head whips to the side and her smile is like feeling the sun on my bones after a long, cold winter up in Pigeon Creek.

I’ve read a lot of books that talk about this feeling, but I never thought I’d get to experience it. I enjoyed reading how not every relationship ended up like my parents’. They were why I started on the romance books.

It’s strange to think I’m living a story from one.

Well, I will be.

Once Gracie knows the truth.

And she will.

Because I’m not letting Mia go.

I can’t.

Unaware of my thoughts, Mia scrabbles at the lock to let me in and her arms slide around me in a welcome home that fills my metaphoric cup. “You did great!”

I huff out a laugh. “Now I know you’re trying to make me feel good.”

Her lips twitch. “You were great for the five minutes you played. How’s the calf?”

“It’s fine,” I assure her, sliding my arm around her waist. “Honestly.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. I wouldn’t have played otherwise. Gracie grilled me yesterday and again pregame about it.”

“So, she didn’t believe you either?”

I chuckle. “Nah. But she’s naturally suspicious. I’m starting to see how you two got along so well.”

Her nose crinkles as she pats my abs, but she guides me in like I need holding up. Only then does she dart back to the door to lock it.

That’s when I realize she’s listening to country music.

I want nothing more than to sit on a stool and molder away there but when she returns to my side, I snag her hand and pull her against my chest.

I have no idea what the song is but it’s depressing and perfect for my two-step waddle.

“I’ll get you dirty!” she chides with a laugh.

“You can get me clean later.”

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