Page 51 of Breakaway to You

I had been worried she regretted our kiss at the gala and would say no, wanting to put more space between us. So, I rested my head back on the couch’s backrest and let myself enjoy a few moments of knowing Piper was on her way over. Then I hopped up off the couch and went to the kitchen to gather the ingredients we’d need.

I’d just finished setting the table when a knock sounded at the door.

Slowing my pace to not look overly eager, I made my way to my front door. Opening it, I found Piper standing there with a smile on her face, looking beautiful in a pair of jeans and v-neck sweater, her hair down again.

I smiled back. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“C’mon in.” I stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. Her sweet floral scent wafted through the air as she walked by me. “I bought stuff to make salmon, veggies, and rice. Is that okay?” I asked as we made our way into the kitchen.

“Yeah, that sounds amazing.”

I set the cutting board on the counter and handed Piper a knife.

“You good with chopping the vegetables?” I asked, pushing up the sleeves of my hoodie.

“Yeah, as long as you promise not to burn the salmon,” Piper teased, taking the knife from him.

I smirked. “I make no promises.”

As I unwrapped the salmon, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at Piper as she worked. I enjoyed seeing her in my kitchen even more now than the last time. It felt good to have her here, to be working alongside her as we did something as simple as cooking dinner. It was such an everyday thing, but with Piper by my side, it felt like something more, something that made me want the normalcy this brought to my life.

Being a professional hockey player had its perks, for sure, but sometimes the mundane tasks with the people you love got lost along the way. Not that I had ever known what that was like, but it didn’t mean that I hadn’t craved it all the same.

I could safely say I wanted more evenings cooking with Piper. Eating dinner together and talking about our days sounded like a type of happiness I’d never pictured myself having, never thought I could have. It seemed like such a simple thing, but I was realizing, as I watched Piper and thought back on my life, that it wasn’t so simple at all.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or start cooking that fish?” She threw me a playful look before continuing to dice the bell peppers.

“It’s your fault for being so distracting,” I said with a smile, seasoning the salmon.

“You’re the one who invited me over,” she pointed out with a sassy look.

“And you said yes, rather quickly, I might add.” I didn’t stop the smug smile that spread across my lips.

She went back to focusing on the vegetables she was cutting. “You can’t say no when your sister’s celebrity crush asks you to come over for dinner.”

I let out a burst of laughter. “How long are we going to keep pretending we’re talking about your sister?”

She looked at me with a coy expression. “A little bit longer.”

I nodded, still chuckling. She obviously wasn’t ready to acknowledge she had feelings for me, whatever they might be. I was fine with that since she wasn’t very good at hiding them. She liked me even though she didn’t want to. Which I understood, because I felt the same way. I wished I didn’t like her. Things would be a lot easier if I didn’t. But Ididlike her. Way more than I wanted to admit.

As I placed the salmon in the sizzling pan, Piper asked, “So, how’d you get into hockey?” A strategic topic change, to be sure.

I hesitated for a beat, wondering how much to share, but then quickly realized I felt safe talking to Piper—had felt safe with her for a while now. I exhaled. “It was my escape,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. “Like I’ve mentioned, my grandma—she didn’t really want me. Took me in after my parents dropped me off on her doorstep and left without a trace, but I was more of a liability than anything else. Hockey was her way of getting me out of her hair. And soon it became the only thing that made me feel like I belonged somewhere.”

Piper’s knife paused on the cutting board. “Your parentsreallyjust left you on your grandma’s doorstep?”

“Yeah.” She must have remembered our conversation at the coffee shop and had thought I wasn’t talking literally when I’d told her how I’d ended up with my grandma.

I kept my gaze averted, focusing on cooking, not wanting to see the look on her face, but I could hear the shock in her voice.

“Have they ever tried to contact you?” she asked gently.

“Nope,” I said. “I don’t even know if they are still alive. And really, I don’t care. They might be my parents biologically, but they’re not my parents. I don’t have any.”

“And you’re not curious to find them, to contact them?”

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