Page 45 of Top Shelf

I love watching him like this. Tyson is not a serious person. He is the poster child for burying his feelings under a level of humor and lightheartedness so that things never have to get heavy.

But I’ve seen him when the weight gets to be too much.

Right now, on the ice, he’s blowing that weight up into teeny-tiny pieces. He’s smashing through it with every smack of the puck, blasting through it with every bit of ice that spews from the blades of his skates.

I watch as the sweat drips from his brow when he takes his helmet off, and I’m immediately turned on. Is that normal? Becausedamn.

As hot as it is, though, I’m a little worried too. Because I don’t want him to feel like he has to do this. I don’t want him to feel like he’s fighting my fight. I don’t want to put him in any sort of position…again. And I don’t want this game to be a bloodbath between the man I…between Tyson and my psycho ex.

I’m in such a trance, lost in my thoughts, that I don’t notice him skating toward the door. And I don’t notice when he looks up and sees me. It’s not till he speaks that I snap back to reality.

“You see somethin’ you like?” he asks, smiling up at me.

I blush and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

“You caught me,” I say with a shrug, walking down the bleachers toward him. I get to the wall and bend over it to kiss him. I can taste his sweat, and it’s delectable. Being so into someone that their bodily fluids don’t gross you out but actuallyattractyou to them? That’s a new level.

I hated the way Hayden smelled after the gym.

Blech.

But Tyson? If there was a way I could bottle up his scent, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

“What are you doing here?”

I shrug.

“I like to watch you,” I admit. He laughs.

“You like to watch me refuse to admit that I’m in my thirties and don’t move like I used to?” he asks. I smile.

“No,” I say. “I like to watch you do something you love.”

His eyes flick up to me, and his lips twitch into a little smile.

He leans forward again for another kiss.

“Hey,” he says, nudging me. “What is it?”

Damn, the way he can read me. I smile and shrug again.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I’m just a little nervous about this game. He’s crazy, Ty. There’s just no predicting what he can do, and…”

“Blackwell, stop worrying about me, okay? I’m not afraid of him. And you don’t have to be either. I know he hurt you, and it’s okay for you to feel like that. I’m just reminding you that things are different now. You’re different. You’re stronger. You have a clear line of sight to his manipulation. And you also have me. When have I ever let something happen to ya?” he says, smiling again. But I don’t smile back.

You weren’t there. You don’t know…

He pulls me into him and kisses the top of my head.

“I got you, baby,” he whispers.

The next few days pass as slowly as ever, especially while Tyson is practicing with the rest of his team. The hours he’s away feel like they’re just ticking and ticking. I got a callback for a second interview for the corporate sales job I applied for at Landry Hotels, so I’ve been prepping a lot for that.

I tidy up the house, take Odie for walks, go to the coffee shop, anything to pass the time. I love being here in his house. It’s the only place aside from the Calways’ where I feel like I can just exist without feeling guilty for it. Like I don’t owe anyone around me anything.

Finally, the day of the game comes, and I wake up with knots in my stomach.

“Morning, sweet thang,” he says as he opens his eyes and kisses me. “You been up worrying long?”

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