Page 56 of Stick Handled

“Always,” I whisper, but she doesn’t hear me anymore, already asleep in my arms.

Chapter nineteen

~AVERY~

The morning light is creeping in through the cracks in the curtains, but I can’t bring myself to move. My body feels like it’s been through an intense workout I didn’t sign up for. Sore doesn’t even begin to cover it. I feel like I was thoroughlytaken for a ride.

“Oh my god.” I bury my reddened face in my hands, memories from last night flooding my mind. The only thing that’s missing is the part where I fell asleep. One minute, I was awake, my mind spinning in a haze of pure Damien, and the next, I wake up with no idea how I got under the covers.

I glance over to the pillow next to mine. It’s a little crumpled, the crease in the fabric way too deep to be from me. I lean in, sniffing the air like a freak, but I can’t help it. There it is, the faint but unmistakable smell of Damien—that smoky cologne and something else that’s entirely him. I bite my lip, excitement bubbling up in my chest like a damn geyser. He spent the night here. Heslepthere with me.

I let out a little squeak and curl up tighter into his shirt. The whole idea of him here, of everything that happened last night, has my pulse spiking.

It’s like my heart’s doing somersaults in my chest, but my brain’s still trying to catch up. How did I go from barely talking to him tothis?

I roll out of bed, feeling like every muscle in my body is a little bit on fire. I walk over to the dresser, stretching and wincing as I go, and grab my phone, tap it open, and immediately see a message from Damien.

DAMIEN:Rise and shine, princess. I’ll pick you up for practice at 10.

Showered and dressed, I grab my coffee and sit at the table across from Rowan, who’s flipping through a magazine. His posture is casual, but there’s something about him that’s always so present, like he’s aware of everything around him, even when he’s just sitting there reading.

I eat the breakfast he made us, trying not to fidget too much, but it’s hard when my brain’s still whirling around last night. Can Rowan smell Damien’s cologne on me? Will he smell it if he walks into my room?

I’m getting paranoid.

Every time I think I’ve got a hold of it, the image of Damien flashes through my mind.

Rowan lets out a small chuckle and flips another page.

“Well, that’s a nice piece of fluff.” he mutters.

I glance over at him, curious. He raises an eyebrow, catching my eye.

“You’re reading a fluff piece?” I tease, half-smiling.

Rowan chuckles, his deep voice like gravel smoothing over.

He turns the magazine around and hands it to me.

“LA Panthers’ Captain Rowan DiMarco Leads Team to Victory—A Look at the Man Behind the Skates,” I read the headline.

Rowan shrugs, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “They needed to fill space.”

I flip the page, looking at a section in the middle.

“Check this out,” I say, and begin reading out loud. “Rowan DiMarco has proven time and again that he’s not just the heart of the LA Panthers; he’s the driving force behind their relentless offense. With forty goals this season, DiMarco’s powerful performance has made him a leader not only in the locker room but on the ice. His commitment to his team and his work ethic have earned him respect from every corner of the NHL, making him one of the most formidable players of the decade.”

I pause and glance up at him. He’s looking at me with that kind of wry smile he always gets when trying to seem humble.

“Told you. Fluff,” he replies, brushing it off like it doesn’t matter, but I can tell from the way his shoulders relax that he likes hearing it.

I lean in and look at the article a little longer. I love that for him. He works his ass off. He deserves all the praise the world’s giving him. All of the Panthers do, for that matter.

“Your brother’s pretty impressive, huh?” Rowan gives me a look, his lips twitching with humor.

“You’re just a guy who gets sweaty and hits people with sticks for a living,” I say with a roll of my eyes, but it has no bite to it. I couldn’t be prouder of him, and he knows it.

That earns me a full-on chuckle. “I think you’re confusing me with Damien.”

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