Page 36 of Power Play

“WhatIwant? Isn’t that what you want, too?” I ask him.

But he just lifts my hand off the bed, holding our locked hands in front of him, turning them around and around. I’m preparing to do the walk of shame, and he looks like he’s in bed on a lazy Sunday morning.

Finally, he makes eye contact with me again.

“Hey, Lo,” he says.

“Hmm?”

“You know I…you know I was never, uh… You know I wasn’t expecting…” His voice trails off, and I suddenly feel a cold front rolling through the room.Here we go. This is the part where he tells me it was a good time, but… Just let me down easy, Buck.

Actually, scratch that.Don’t let him let you down.

I laugh nervously, slowly plucking my hand from his and scooting off the bed. I walk to my bag and start digging through it again, pulling out a pair of leggings and another tank top I had packed. I clear my throat as I walk toward the bathroom.

“Lo?” he says. I turn to him slowly, forcing a cheesy smile.

“Please don’t worry about it. Teenage me is over the fuckingmoonthis morning. She’s been wanting to get in your pants foryears,”I say with another nervous giggle. “At least this all gives her a good story.”

I turn on my heel and walk into the bathroom, putting my stuff down on the sink and closing the door. I take a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror.

This is exactly what you thought it was.

I pull my nightshirt up over my head, but as I’m putting my arms down, I jump when I see him in the mirror behind me.

I cover myself with the t-shirt, but he just looks at me, dead in the eye.

“A goodstory?”he says, his eyebrows knit together. “Astory?Were you just using me for my body, Calway?” He smiles, but it’s pained.

I don’t know what to say, so I just stare at him through the mirror. He takes a few more steps and turns to me. I turn to face him, swallowing as I stare up at him.

He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“I, uh…no, of course not,” I say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “I just…I thought you might, uh…”

“You thought I might what? Want to fuck around a few times and be done?” he asks. The question is harsh, but his tone is surprisingly gentle. I swallow again, my eyes dropping to the floor. He takes a step toward me and lifts my chin so our eyes meet again. “Lo, I know this all happened fast, but you have to know how much I care about you. You have to know that I would have never let things get this far if I planned to just walk away. Especially not after… You just have to know that I would have never done this and left it at that. Now, if that’s what you planned, then please tell me now.”

I can’t comprehend anything he’s saying right now.

He’s bending down, trying to meet me on my level, literally. But I can’t keep eye contact with him. I’m confused as to what he’s asking me. What could he—the aforementioned rich, handsome, professional athlete—want with twenty-two-year-old, waitress-mom me?

“Lo,” he says, his voice low and gentle, “you have to know after all these years…aftereverything,that I care about you, right?”

I nod, slowly lifting my eyes to his. The word “everything” makes me cringe.

“Then please hear me when I say this, okay? I never would have brought you into this room if that’s all we were ever going to be. I care way too much about you for that,” he says. “Just know that from the minute I brought you in here, I was hoping there would be more than just what happened in this room. I hope you feel the same, but if you don’t, I’ll take it like a man,” he says with a little smirk that makes me fucking melt. I clutch the shirt to me tighter.

“I…” I start to say. I think for a moment, close my eyes, and let out a long breath. Then I look right at him. “Why…me?”

He looks genuinely surprised at the question.

“Why...why you? Lo, are you kidding me?” he asks. I shrug, and he takes a step forward.

“No, I’m not. Why me? What else do I have to offer you?” I ask him. That question takes him aback.

“Whatelse?Lo, you are…you are everything. You’re empathetic, and caring, and compassionate. You love that girl so fucking fiercely that it makes me get choked up. You’d do anything for your family, and you’d give the shirt off your back if it was the last thing you had.” I look down at the shirt in my hands right now.The irony.“Lo, I don’t have to be anybody but Levi Buck from Crooked Creek with you. Not Levi Buck, professional hockey player—soon-to-beex-professional hockey player,” he adds, and it looks like it pains him. “You wanted me through my frosted-tips phase,” he says, and we both smile. “I can’t letthatgirl slip through my fingers.”

Oh, God.I remember how badly I wanted him to notice me, frosted tips and all.

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